The Golden Tear from the Eye of Horus

The Golden Tear from the Eye of Horus by Dan S. Ward is a story of transformation, a fictional
account of what might very well be true. (And much of it is.) To put it into perspective...

Imagine a dysfunctional family of extraterrestrials vying for control of the Earth.

Imagine also that this struggle has been going on for millennia.

Imagine you are caught up in this conflict.

Imagine that at some point you realize that in order for you to survive...

For even your very species to survive...

You must evolve into a higher being.

And finally... Imagine that this story is true.

The Golden Tear from the Eye of Horus is a fictional account of Dawn Riordan, a woman
who finds herself in the midst of an out-of-control situation that may very well be a true
account of the world. While the events and storyline are fictional, the basis and
underlying plot are, in the author's opinion, true. Many of the characters in the story are
archetypes or real beings -- not necessarily human -- and their characterization is based
upon the best available evidence from historical documents.



The Golden Tear from the Eye of Horus is first and foremost a story of one woman’s
journey of the soul, her own versions of The Hero’s Journey and/or The Fool’s
Journey (probably a little bit of each). In her journey, she encounters challenge after
challenge, only to ultimately transform herself into something far beyond what she had
ever previously imagined.

On one level, the novel is an adventure, filled with intelligent (but misguided) bad guys,
chases, narrow misses, unique escapes, exotic locations, comic relief, and the inevitable
romantic interest. Tantalizing clues are liberally dispersed throughout the story, and find
resolution in a stunning manner. The storyline itself is fast-paced, filled with revelations
and exciting events and ideas, and in the end, covers a great deal of territory (pardon
the pun).

Very importantly, The Golden Tear from the Eye of Horus deals with prophetic and
extraordinary truths about ancient history, governmental Conspiracies, vested
interests, covert Extraterrestrial activities, bewildering and anomalous events and
theories, the incredible truths about the strange events occurring on the third planet
from the sun, and the potential for the transformation of the human species from Homo
sapiens sapiens to the next evolutionary quantum leap and something far greater.

The Golden Tear from the Eye of Horus premiered on these webpages on August 22,
2003. Perhaps you noticed the spotlights and stars at the gala opening.
The Fool

Beginning

Dawn Riordan and Gilbert Lenki were asleep in their seats -- blissfully unaware of the
impending danger as the corporate jet flew eastward toward the Idaho Wilderness.
Ahead lay the lush green forests and rocky crags of the Salmon River Mountains, while
off to the right, the tumultuous Snake River flowed north, carving Hell's Canyon ever
deeper. Slightly to the left, but hidden by the underbelly of the aircraft, lay the city of
Lewiston, covered with lightly scattered, low-lying clouds. Behind them was the muted
glare of the late afternoon sun, partially shielded by cumulus streaking across the sky.
Within the cabin itself, the drone of the private airplane's twin jets belied the calmness of
the dark greens and blues of the wilderness landscape below, ignored the shifting shades
of intense light and gentle shadow, and simultaneously, gave not the slightest suggestion
of the near-imminent, disastrous failure of the jet engines.

Dawn was asleep, dreaming, with the barest hint of a pleasant, contented smile on her
face. Suddenly, she shifted in her laid back seat. Then she shifted again -- sensuously,
delighting in each movement, her body responded as if she were awake, passionately
enjoying each moment, each second of ecstatic illusion. Contentment flushed over her
whole being, to be followed by surprise and intrigue, and then profound revelation.
Moments ticked by as her mind reacted to the fantasy and illusions, until she abruptly
awoke, taking mere seconds to return to reality.

That had been one incredible dream! She replayed it in her mind: the mounting
emotions and physical sensations, the sense of her body literally glowing with light and
radiation, the heat, passion, and ecstasy taking her to new levels of orgasmic, total
fulfillment, and the aftermath of contentment and heavy breathing. It had been then,
within the dream, when she had opened her eyes trying to see the face of the man who
had fulfilled her so completely and in every sense of the word. But there had been no
one! And everyone! The epitome of the Sacred Orgasm.

And yet, there had not even been the lingering smell of a fragrance, male or female.
Only her own bodily scents. It was as if she had made love to herself in a pervading, all-
encompassing sense of orgasmic oneness, as if she had been enveloped in a physical, yet
thoroughly profound vision of the future.

In the moments following her ecstatic experience, the dream had dissolved into a wheat
field, where Dawn had found herself suddenly dressed in a modern, chic, Hollywood
version of a monk's habit made of a quality material and cut in a very unique manner.
Hardly noticing her dress, she had looked around the field of ripe grain and realized that
in her immediate area the grain stalks were laid down in a kind of matting -- the stalks
not broken, but bent at right angles to the ground and forming a cross hatching. The
outer edge of the flattened stalks had formed a perfect eclipse. Almost a circle, but not
quite. Dawn had guessed she was sitting in the midst of a crop circle, those strange,
unexplained, sculptured designs occurring throughout the world. Such designs, she had
vaguely recalled, occurred in a variety of grains -- everything from barley, wheat,
rapeseed, and rye -- and in all stages of growth, as if the grain stalks were being laid
down by some unknown and mysterious force -- typically being created overnight, and
often, within minutes.

Within the crop circle Dawn had seen at a distance, standing among the upright wheat
stalks, a woman dressed in an exotic Queen of Kashmir regalia, as if she were a deity of
some faraway Shangri La. The woman had been naked except for a golden, jewel-
encrusted crown, earrings, an elaborate breast plate of gold and lapis lazuli, a curved,
broad waist sash of blue and gold, a breechcloth of like colors, and anklets which
mimicked her dangling earrings. Dawn had felt the woman's majesty, her power, and
her unspeakable intensity. Inexplicably, Dawn had recognized the woman as Kali, the
Hindu goddess perpetually transforming life into a dance of death.

And yet, the goddess, instead of threatening, had seemed to be comforting Dawn,
reminding her of the complete cycle: death and rebirth. At the same time, a question
inspired by the Goddess had kept repeating itself in Dawn's mind: "What is it? What
then is it?" For just that brief moment before waking, Dawn had glimpsed Kali in clearer
perspective, her dark skin with it bluish coloring and black hair streaked with gray
suddenly transforming itself into a lighter, tanned skin, and flowing, auburn red hair. As
Dawn had watched, Kali had become a modern, beautiful woman, but with all her powers
still intact. Then, as if for emphasis, the woman had vanished in an explosive, blinding
flash of light.

Dawn replayed the dream in her mind several more times, trying to recapture the
feelings and the emotions, the raw physical power she had felt, the almost mystical
connection with what she might have identified as divinity. But the possibly precognitive
dream, being recorded by her conscious mind in its let's-keep-this-one-for-the-record
memory bank, could not be so easily relived. She could only wonder at its meaning,
delight in having experienced such ecstasy, and resolve to record the dream in all its
glory in her journal. She would not be able to interpret it, and in fact, could not be sure
she would ever know its meaning. But Dawn had long ago decided it was not necessary
to know all of the answers all of the time. For her, life was all the more delightful if there
was mystery and suspense interwoven with the knowing.

Raising the back of her seat, she sat up straight, ready to return to the mundane world.
It was then she looked at the man sleeping in the seat across from hers, and recalled
where she was. The surrounding decor and artifacts were that of a well-appointed, but
business-like corporate jet, a private plane for the discriminating tastes. Dawn and her
boss were flying in the ultimate First Class! Having experienced her dream, she had
almost forgotten such a pleasant reality.

But then the brief sense of pride and pleasure in her situation vanished as Dawn
grimaced slightly. It was a private plane, yes. But among the two passengers in the
small space, privacy between them was not necessarily implied by their presence in a
“private” jet. The question on Dawn's mind was whether or not in her sleeping mode,
she had been a bit more vulnerable than she would have liked? Had her boss of only two
short months witnessed her physical reaction to her dream, her orgasmic moments?
Was he even now struggling not to grin from ear to ear and laugh out loud?

The idea caused a momentary flash of embarrassment, as Dawn wondered, being the
gentleman she imagined him to be, if he was only pretending to be sleep and thereby
attempting to avoid causing her any undue chagrin. For several seconds Dawn watched
him for signs of his being awake. When there was no definitive response, she timidly
asked, "Are you being polite, Mr. Lenki? Did I just make a fool of myself?" When he
made no answer and continued to lay there with his eyes closed, Dawn felt a modicum of
relief. Apparently, her boss had missed the festivities, and Dawn's dreamland privacy
was still intact. She could relax and simply observe him instead.

It was a rare opportunity for Gilbert Lenki was not easily observed. Dawn had quickly
learned that her boss was a very private man, his intentions and agendas never
unambiguously clear. Privacy, in fact, might have been his defining characteristic, one
which made him intimidating to all but the most self-confident of his friends and
acquaintances. And in the short time Dawn had known him, she was convinced she had
learned from him only what her boss had very specifically decided he wanted her to
know. While that had been a lot to learn, she knew there was a great deal more.

She had, admittedly, learned early on about his cutting wit. But it was a style of humor,
she had observed, which he used with great care and precision and only under the most
carefully chosen circumstances. He was apparently too smart to make fun randomly and
oblivious to any possible consequences. He would never give himself away for the sake
of being appreciated for a sense of humor. His exceptional intelligence was, moreover,
combined with a unique sophistication that seemed to ensure that others would turn to
him for advice even when they were in awe of him. And never would they laugh at him!

There had also been his love of mystery, a characteristic which had been a key element
in Dawn's taking a job as his personal secretary -- particularly when she knew next to
nothing about him and when there was implied in the job description a degree of
professional intimacy. For Dawn loved mystery as well, and Gilbert Lenki promised
truckloads of it as a fringe benefit of her job.

Dawn smiled at the promised land of wonder and mystery she knew came with her work,
as she then let her eyes wander from her study of the man sitting before her to
encompass their current surroundings. Her seat faced to the rear of the richly decorated
aircraft, while his seat (also on a swivel) faced forward. Between them was a small,
collapsible table mounted against one of the aircraft’s bulkheads. The table contained
drinks in recessed holders (the remnants of ice long since melted), a small dish of finger
food on a rubberized mat, and a small narrow wooden container appropriately filled with
writing and other materials. Nearby and behind Gil was a small computer monitor and
communication console, to which a quick swivel on Gil’s part could allow him access.

Dawn smiled even broader. This was her first time in a private jet, and she was enjoying
the royal treatment and faint sense of excitement. At the same time, however, there
was also something very curious about the circumstances of their sudden flight.
Associates of Gil, a group called The Patrons, but of whom Dawn had never even heard
before today, had dispatched a state-of-the-art corporate jet to pick both of them up and
fly them to an isolated location in the Idaho wilderness. There had been no indication
that these Patrons were interested in Gil's affairs or his private agenda. Just that he was
to drop everything and hustle out to Idaho at their beck and call.

Dawn had jokingly referred to the trip as a "command performance", and much to her
surprise, Gil had agreed that such was an appropriate description. For a man that Dawn
considered to be one of the most independent individuals she had ever met -- a man who
consistently marched to the beat of his own drummer -- she was amazed that he might
now be following the marching orders of others. They had even been planning a
business trip to Los Angeles and Mexico, but one which now had to be postponed, adding
still more ingredients to the mystery.

There was also the curious aspect that -- for some unexplained reason -- Dawn was
accompanying her boss by specific invitation of her future hosts. Furthermore, there was
the subtle hint that her inclusion was for the purpose of approval -- as if she were being
taken home to meet the family. Meeting the parents might have been bad enough, but
this "family" seemed to include parents, a grandparent or two, seven or eight brothers
and sisters, what was surely dozens of cousins, and just quite possibly, the local Mafia-
style, chain-letter gang. This portion of the trip made her decidedly nervous. Dawn did
not like to be judged or analyzed!

As she watched her boss and potential mentor, his hands folded serenely across his lap,
Dawn began to gently listen for his thoughts, to somehow tune in to their very immediate
future.
She had always had an ability to sense, to intuit, and to deeply probe the minds and
emotions of others around her. It was not so much some extraordinary form of
telepathy, but rather an ability to feel and be aware of another's most fleeting emotions.
As a child, she had assumed everyone was connected with everyone else in just such a
manner. But as an adult, she had become aware of her uniqueness, her exceptional
ability to probe into the thoughts and feeling of others to a depth where few other people
could ever hope to plunge. It was a talent which had saved her more than once.

But before she could begin to feel his thoughts, Gil began to stir, opening his eyes until
he could see her clearly. It was then that the hint of a smile managed to find its place
onto his lips.

"Good morning," Dawn said. "I trust you had pleasant dreams."

Gil looked at her for a split second, before answering. "None that I expect to write in my
journal." He continued to look at her, as if he might be harboring some notable
confidence.

Dawn decided not to delve further into that line of thinking (one which might ultimately
be embarrassing to her), and promptly changed the topic of conversation. "Can I get
you anything?"

Gil seemed agreeable to the change of conversation as well. "Yes, as a matter of fact. I
need to brief you on our upcoming visit to Lake Mach. And the parts we each have to
play. If you could locate my briefcase..."

"It's stowed in the rear. I'll get it."

Standing up, walking aft, and retrieving a briefcase from an easily accessible storage bin
would have seemed a simple enough activity. But in the typical fashion of the best laid
plans of mice and men all going merrily astray (as well as the spontaneous planning of
women), no such simple activity was likely. For just as Dawn stood up, the aircraft rolled
slightly. This caused her to momentarily bump against the small collapsible table
situated between the two seats. The table promptly folded in on itself, and in the
process dumped the entire contents of the two carefully stowed drinks directly onto Gil's
lap and inner thighs. True to form, Dawn’s maladroit quality with its specific gift for the
clumsy and hysterical, had resurrected itself. Her only saving grace on this particular
occasion was that she herself avoided the direct results of her lack of deft manipulation
of the world. However, Gil's midsection was drenched with liquid even while Dawn was
being left high and dry.

In spite of her comparatively good fortune, she did manage to suffer all the pangs of guilt
and remorse of anyone regularly dispensing instant karma on otherwise unsuspecting
souls. Falling back to collapse in her seat, she covered her forehead with one hand, and
uttered her typical expletive, "Shit!" Gil, having the advantage of already having come
to grips with Dawn's most dominant liability, was fairly blasé about the entire episode.
He just sat there, sensing the flood of liquid on his body and laughing. Mostly to himself.

Dawn then recalled who the injured party really was, jumped up, and ran back to the
small lavatory, where she grabbed a handful of paper towels. Rushing back, she abruptly
hesitated, realizing she could hardly start dabbing with the towels on her boss' lap and
against his inner thighs. Bleakly, she dropped them into his lap, where he began the
process of drying himself. Meanwhile, Dawn returned to her seat, dropped back down,
and made it clear she was thoroughly disgusted with herself. Watching him and the
good-natured grin on his face, she asked, "How can you put up with someone like me?
You must think I'm hopeless."
"No, no, not really."

"But I am so clumsy! In the two months I've been working for you, I must have
committed some clumsy act or another a dozen times. I can't believe you haven't fired
me long before now!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Gil replied, gently and reassuringly. "For one thing, your
maladroitness makes you... Well... Less intimidating. Such beauty and brains needs a
counter balance." Rising from his seat, Gil suddenly felt the moisture reaching other
parts of his body. Grimacing he said, "Ah yes. Very stimulating." As Dawn felt a surge
of mental anguish, Gil began moving aft, suddenly grinning with a new thought. "It also
allows me to pay you less."

Dawn could not help but smile. "I'm very happy with my pay, Mr. Lenki."

"And I'm very happy with your work," he replied, his tone now more genuine. "You have
some very unique talents, Miss Riordan. Your intuition is quite special, quite rare. It's
something I find very promising." As Dawn quietly accepted the compliment, he added,
"I'm in the business of gathering information and protecting secrets. This you have
always been good at. Your training with me, on the other hand, has been primarily on
the latter, on how to avoid giving yourself away. With your intuitive abilities, you have
fantastic potential in both areas. A talent which we will, hopefully, be capitalizing upon in
the near future."

"Thank you," Dawn managed to reply. “I’m really looking forward to it all.”

"But I am curious," Gil continued, as he began to dab at his pants with a dry paper
towel. "Why didn't you see it coming? With your intuition, I would have thought you
would have had some warning of the accident."

Dawn swallowed hard. There had been another accident, one that had reached her at
the very core of her being. And there had been no warning then either. Nothing at all.
As if Dawn, in her most critical moment, had failed utterly -- as if her family had died
because of her failure, her debilitating lack of ability leading directly to the loss of what
she had cherished more than anything else.

Such thoughts and the events of her past life she had not yet shared with her boss. It
had never seemed appropriate, never the right timing. And now was not the time either,
she intuited. Instead, Dawn tried to smile, to cover her momentary relapse into the last
three years of her recovery.

"It doesn't really work that way," she answered, her voice belying her internal trauma.
"I can sometimes sense danger, but only if it's a direct, physical threat to me personally,
as if by not being aware, somehow my destiny might be inappropriately changed. But it
doesn't always help others. Even when I would have desperately wanted otherwise."

As Gil seemed to accept the explanation -- his intuition quietly telling him not to pursue
the matter -- Dawn added, "I've always had the ability to sense things. But it's not
telepathy or ESP, or seeing the future, or anything like that. It's more like an extended
awareness. But always very unforced, very spontaneous. It's not something I can or
ever have been able to control."

"Too bad. It would be nice to have some idea of what the next couple of days will hold."

"I'm not really sure, but my general sense is that there's bound to be some surprises."
"In other words, expect the unexpected." Gil grimaced.

Dawn smiled and was about to agree, when the totally unexpected happened.

Without any warning, the tail of the plane lurched, reacting to a deafening explosion in
the tail's right engine. The left engine, impacted by the explosion, shut down as well,
and the plane compensated with an abrupt up angle, stalled, and then began falling.
Dawn was thrown against the cabin wall, suffering a sudden shock but otherwise avoiding
injury. Gil was not as lucky, slamming head and shoulder first into the emergency exit
on the right hand side at the rear of the cabin. He stumbled back, falling to his knees,
his head bleeding from the impact. Frantically, he struggled to get back to his seat, even
as Dawn tried to regain her balance and go to him. Seeing her intention, he reacted
automatically. "Stay in your seat!" Then, to convince her, "I'm okay."

"The hell you are; you're bleeding!" She was already out of her seat and on her knees.

"It's okay. It's just my head. You know how hard-headed I am!"

Each of them tried to smile, even as the plane lurched again, and then began to settle
out, falling fast, but in something approaching a controlled descent -- however rapid.
The small door to the cockpit swung open, and the copilot yelled back, "Hold on! We're
going down!"

"Obviously," Gil retorted, as he reached his seat. Using his strong arm to help Dawn
back into the seat facing him, he yelled at the copilot, "Distress signal! We're going to
need help!"

The copilot, with a strange sense of calm discipline, said, "It will have to be a limited
one. We're too close in." With that the plane rocked slightly, causing the small door to
slam shut. The plane promptly leveled out in an unpowered glide path, whose forward
motion per rate of descent was somewhat less than that guaranteed by the airplane's
manufacturer.

"What's he talking about?" Dawn asked. "A limited distress signal?"

"We're close enough to Lake Mach; they can send helicopters before anyone else." Then
Gil looked out the window. "We're going to need some level ground..."

Dawn glanced out the window as well, immediately incredulous. "In these mountains?"

"All we need is a small body of water, some meadows, anything moderately flat..."

The plane began to bank in what appeared to be a controlled fashion. The left engine
made strange noises as the pilot attempted to restart it -- and failed at the attempt. The
ground continued to rise rapidly.

"There," Gil announced.

Dawn looked to where Gil was indicating. A small lush meadow, ringed with aspen trees
and surrounded by a pine forest lay below. An absolutely beautiful wonderland, with the
occasional deer, beaver, and beaver dam; all nestled within the strength of rugged peaks
and rocky crags. But it's pristine beauty was not totally obvious to the four people in the
descending aircraft. They could only focus on the moderately level area it offered in
which they could attempt an emergency landing.
The plane, still losing altitude at a rapid rate, approached the meadow as if going
upstream, in effect, uphill, and offset by some 80 yards to the right. From their seats,
Dawn and Gil had a clear view of the meadow as it began to pass by them on the left
side of the aircraft.

Dawn was both worried and perplexed. "We're missing it."

"No," Gil said, with amazing calmness. "Pilot's ex-Navy. He's doing a carrier landing."

Turning to her employer, she said, "I don't understand."

"A carrier, when it's recovering aircraft, is moving at 25 or 30 knots. Planes don't want
to chase the carrier, so they come in from the opposite direction, bank sharply in a tight
turn, and then straighten up just before touching down." As he explained, Gil seemed to
relax, as if things were now under control. If things were understandable, then there
was a sense of controlled expectation.

Dawn was not totally convinced. "Is that wise in this case? That's not a carrier down
there."

Gil grimaced. "Don't know. Pilot's probably reacting by instinct. Which is good. I think."

Dawn turned back to look at the tops of the trees flashing by the underbelly of the
aircraft wing. Suddenly, she felt a deep, threatening cold sweep over her body, as the
memory of that bright sunny day came flooding back into her mind. There had been
laughter and merriment from her family as they delighted in the mountain excursion.
Until the out-of-control logging truck came careening around the curve. Dawn could still
see the truck in her mind, with its heavy load of freshly cut and stripped trees bearing
down on them. At the same time, she could feel once again the same fear and
impending horror. But almost three years of grief-therapy had given her the tools to
deal with the recurring trauma, such that she could shake her head to dismiss the old
wounds. She was almost successful. But then the intensity of the present regained her
full attention.

At the same time, her intuition gave her a sense of calm that she would be okay. It just
didn't make any assurances about anyone else.

Suddenly, the plane banked sharply, turning in a hair-pin curve to the left. The
movement brought Dawn back to the reality of the moment. Then, no sooner had the
aircraft straightened and leveled than it hit its first tree top. Undaunted, it continued.
Until just before impact, the pilot attempted to correct the heavy nose down attitude and
lift the nose up. He was more successful than he expected, and the plane took an up
angle, even as it was careening toward the ground. The effort did result in considerably
more drag and a lessening of the airspeed. But then as the tail hit the ground hard, the
nose was swung down equally hard, and just as the plane passed over a small mound.
The impact broke the fuselage's back, and the plane then began ripping through bushes,
beaver ponds, and small trees, until it reached a resting place -- one wing rammed
against an evergreen, the fuselage broken in two pieces and twisted into an obtuse
angle, and the airplane's nose tilted down and into the edge of a pond.

The initial impact had not only broken the fuselage's back, but had eliminated many of
the supports holding the cabin seats in place. Dawn's seat was thrown forward to smash
against the back of the wall just behind the copilot's seat. Having been facing backward,
Dawn herself was cushioned from the impact by the seat itself, and thus escaped serious
injury. Gil's seat, on the other hand, was initially thrust up against the overhead of the
cabin, and then bounced back to end up in the rear half of the broken fuselage. Facing
forward, he had felt the full brunt of the crash.
Dust, debris and occasional sparks filled the abruptly stilled space, as Dawn's mind began
to try to sort things out. Slowly, she realized she was basically okay -- nothing broken,
perhaps a few cuts and bruises, but essentially she was unharmed. But instead of
relishing her good fortune, even for a split second, she looked for Gil. She could just
barely see him, still in his seat, bloodied and leaning against the devastation of the
plane's rear section. Behind him, the destroyed engines smoked ominously, as if ready
to explode in a gigantic fireball.

Dawn struggled to remove her seat belt, feeling the bruises in her midsection as she did
so, and began making her way through the wrecked cabin to Gil. She found him semi-
conscious and barely able to recognize her. The engines took that moment to sputter,
reminding Dawn she had to get Gil out of the airplane just in case it were to blow up.
Unbuckling him, she tried to move him.

"Come on, Mr. Lenki. We have to get out!" she barked, her voice fighting off panic.

Gil was just conscious enough to respond. With his efforts, combined with considerably
more strength from Dawn than she normally possessed, they managed to get him to his
feet and slowly work their way through the rupture in the cabin wall. Once out of the
plane, they stumbled and slowly wove their way across a grassy marsh and on to higher,
drier ground. There Gil's strength seemed to fail, and they went down together in a
heap. Dawn quickly untangled herself, and then tried to make her boss comfortable.
The initial ordeal over, Gil seemed to regain some of his thought processes, enough at
least to question the fate of the others.

Dawn tried to dismiss the distraction, but Gil was adamant. "I'm okay. Check on the
pilots."

Dawn, torn between conflicting compassions, hesitated before she replied, "I'll be right
back." Quickly she moved back toward the plane, taking careful note of the smoldering
engines.

Once inside the plane, she went directly to the cockpit door, and literally ripped it open.
The first sight she saw in the wrecked cockpit was the copilot's nearly decapitated, dead
body. Dawn didn't even bother to check for life signs. The pilot, on the other hand, was
still alive, even though bloodied with multiple wounds on virtually every part of his body.
As she began to check him, he roused slightly from his unconscious state.

His immediate gut reaction was not unlike hers; he wanted to get out of the plane! Years
of training had made his reactions automatic: just get out of the plane before it blows!
His body cooperated with his mind's determination, and with Dawn's help, he managed to
extradite himself from the cockpit and eventually the airplane itself. Then, having
traversed only part of the way to Gil, the pilot seemed to choose his own personal resting
spot and simply collapsed. Dawn tried to make him comfortable as he quietly lost
consciousness, his internal workings deciding that the immediate danger was over and
that it was now time to rest.

Seeing there was nothing more to do for him, she stood up to go back to Gil. It was
then, as the distraction of the two competing needs occupied her mind, that she
managed to trip on an exposed root and fall head first into a small pool of water
separating the grassy areas where the two men were. She quickly bounced back up, her
face and entire front wet and cold. An image flashed before her of The Fool, wandering
into the abyss without a care in the world, initiating the journey without a thought. Her
verbal response was more earthy. "Shit! You are so clumsy!" She shook her head until a
measure of calmness returned, whereupon she added philosophically, "Oh well. A splash
of cold water does have its benefits. Certainly an effective wake-up call!" Shaking her
head in disbelief at the vagaries of the fates, and considerably sobered, she made her
way quickly and deliberately back to Gil's side. Without hesitating, she dropped to her
knees and set back on her heels, observing him. He seemed to be resting peacefully,
and as her concerns for his welfare eased, she began to look at him from an entirely
different point of view.

Physically, even in his severely wounded condition, Gilbert Lenki was a very attractive
man. He was under six feet, but typically claimed a height of "five foot twelve", a claim
Dawn had always found delightful. His light brown hair effectively camouflaged the
occasional gray strand, while his skin coloring gave the impression of excellent, vibrant
health. But it was a vital look not incurred at the expense of having spent most of his life
being baked by the sun. His tan was gentler and more health oriented. Adding to the
sense of health were his deep brown eyes filled with specks of green and a large dose of
mischief. But those same eyes, she knew, could stare down a charging rhino.

Dawn could have been easily attracted to Gil -- she had always had a natural affinity for
men five to ten years older than herself, either as a friend or as a potential mate. Gil, a
good 15 years older, easily qualified, if only because he seemed ageless. He was, in
addition to everything else, a warrior, and Dawn was easily attracted to the warrior type
(provided of course that it was a warrior who used his brains as much as his brawn and
who had a cause with which Dawn could identify).

But two separate concerns had always made her hesitate. One had been the clear signs
of a deep, ancient sadness about Gil -- some repressed, traumatic wound or wounds in
his psyche to which he never admitted or even discussed. Dawn fluctuated between two
lines of thought, that Gil had either done badly by women in the past (and now didn't feel
worthy of being loved again by a woman), or the possibility that he had just been in one
too many battles. Occasionally she wondered if she had encountered an eligible male
with the most marvelous physical, mental and emotional characteristics imaginable, but
who also was rumored to have been an ax-murderer recently escaped from the
maximum security mental hospital. The latter, of course, she really couldn’t believe.
She was always an optimist.

The second reason for her hesitancy was that Dawn was not yet convinced that she was
ready for any deep romantic attachments. Having lost her husband and two children in
the tragic auto accident only three years before, her natural inclination was to hesitate,
to wait, to reconsider any extension of her inner most self in anything as risky as
romance. Her love of mystery had gotten her in trouble before, and despite the fact she
had spent two intense years grieving her loss and a year later was ostensibly ready to re-
enter the world, her activity to date had been limited to very casual dating. Dawn wasn't
yet convinced it was time for the only kind of romantic relationship in which she was
interested: an intense, deeply emotional, and romantic one -- even if precisely the right
sort of man came along. At the same time, Dawn was fairly certain Gil was not the one.
Between them there had never been that elusive spark that could ignite a relationship
and turn it into the kind of passionate inferno any romance deserved. The kind she’d had
before.

The thought of her dead husband abruptly reminded her of the aftermath of the
mountain wreck, when she had checked him for signs of life -- to find none -- and then
held her youngest child in her arms and watched his life fade away as well. The memory,
combined with the current horror, was suddenly more than she could handle, and
abruptly she burst into tears, the sobs causing her entire body to shake. Her hands
covered her face, trying to stem the flood of tears, while a low, wavering moan escaped
her lips as she felt the full impact of every loved one she had ever lost.

Her grief was interrupted, as Gil momentarily regained consciousness and looked up at
her with bleary eyes. Choking, he tried to speak. The movement recalled her to the
immediate now, and triggered her instinctive inclination to comfort others in lieu of
attending to her own pain.

"Shhhh," she said, touching his lips with one finger. "Time to rest."

Gil mentally shook off her suggestion. Calling on a deep inner resource, he roused
himself and reached for her. "Wanted to be able to protect you. But I can't. Forgive
me." He tried to say more, but drifted off instead. Dawn was stunned. She had no idea
what he meant. He had never been into the male macho, knight-on-a-white-horse
stereotype. The idea that he felt badly for not being able to protect her made no sense
at all. By reflex, she tried to tap into his mind, only to sense frustration, anger, and
danger. There were no real clues as to what was really going on.

Then the word, "protect", triggered her own sense of survival. She looked around -- for
the first time beginning to assess their vulnerability in the new environment. As she did
so, she saw a pristine wilderness in all of its glory: a beautiful, lush green, cool
wonderland. Multiple shades of greenery proliferated, giving a sense of a well designed
and maintained garden. Dawn felt a soothing, refreshing breeze, and glanced at the
afternoon clouds, full of mountain rain. Then she shivered. It was rapidly becoming
cooler. They were in the high Rocky Mountains, there was no sign of rescue (probably
too soon to expect anything), and it was going to get a lot colder very soon. It would
also be dark within the hour, making any possible rescue thereafter much less likely, at
least until morning.

For just a moment she recalled the strange conversation about the distress signals.
Were they to be limited in who might have received their distress call? How could that
be? It didn't make sense. Then something of an even greater concern caught her
attention: There was no guarantee that their "limited" S.O.S. had even been heard!
There was no assurance that help was on the way!

Dawn suddenly realized she might be on her own. The issue now was the coming cold
and the distinct possibility of a chilling rain. They were not prepared for weather. The
dress she wore was torn, ripped, and recently drenched with cold water and mud. She
felt a momentary sadness as she realized it was a dress a dear friend had bought for
her. But then she chastised herself for thinking of such trivia at a time like this. It was
survival time, not preparation for a late Easter parade. She would have cried again, but
neither was it time for grief. There were things to be done.

Quickly she rose, and surveyed the situation. The engines seemed to be smoldering less,
and the danger of fire and/or explosion waning. She moved back to the plane taking
particular care with where she stepped, and began gathering seat cushions, window
curtains, and two emergency blankets. There was apparently no first aid kit -- or at least
not one she could immediately find.

She did, however, find a flashlight. She started to breathe a sigh of relief, only to hold
her breath as she tested the light. It worked, whereupon she breathed an even heavier
sigh of relief. Carrying her loot back to the wounded men she began to try to make them
comfortable with cushions for pillows and blankets for covers. The airplane cabin's
curtain she used as a shawl to cover herself. On her second trip back to the airplane,
she noted Gil's briefcase, and pulled it out of the wreckage. She also found their luggage
and started to pull the pieces out -- she would have to get out of her wet clothes. Her
suitcase was seriously damaged, but she managed to pull it out as well.

Then she heard it: the sound of an aircraft. She looked up at the sky, the sun already
just below the peaks. Quickly she found it: a helicopter coming over a peak from the
southeast, flying at an oblique angle to her location. She began waving her curtain as a
signal. When this was not immediately successful, she turned and ran for the flashlight
where she had left it next to Gil. Then with both the curtain and light, she started
signaling again.

But the helicopter had already changed its course directly toward her. She quickly
realized they could probably see the downed aircraft a lot sooner than a lone woman in
the wilderness waving her curtain or flashlight. For just a split second, she felt the full
effects of the strain that had been on her up until that moment. Her pent up exhaustion
took its toll as she sank to her knees, said an emotional, “Thank God!”, and turned to tell
Gil the good news.

Taking his head with her hands, she said, "Help's on the way, Mr. Lenki. We're going to
be okay. Just hang in there. Hang in there a little bit longer."

Gil opened his eyes to sense his surroundings. Hearing the helicopter as it settled down
on a level spot some 50 yards away, his mind pulled together one more time, and in the
process, he suddenly tensed. Turning to look directly at her, he strained to speak.
"Dawn! You've got to be careful. Watch what you say. Pay attention to your intuition.
Don't hesitate to read minds!" Abruptly, his throat caught, but he seemed intent upon
one more thing. Struggling, he managed to say, "If anyone asks, remember: You're my
fiancé. Very important" Then he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and was still
except for a heightened heart beat.

Dawn's mind was in turmoil. Perhaps he was hallucinating, she thought, or reacting to
the last traumatic hour. Her mind searching for answers, she nevertheless looked up in
time to see the helicopter with its rotors powering down (but still rotating), and two men
jumping out of the back, cargo section. Behind them, as a backdrop, was an absolutely
gorgeous and deserted natural wonderland. Everything seemed incongruous. Dawn
looked at Gil again, probing for some explanation. But she could sense nothing else from
him. Maybe it was just the trauma, she thought. Nevertheless, she would heed his
warnings. She would be careful. But, his fiancé!!?

The two men ran up to her, one carrying the traditional medical bag. He announced
himself by saying, "I'm a doctor. Where's Mr. Lenki?" When Dawn indicated Gil, the
doctor quickly attended to her injured lover, while the second man looked on. Dawn
turned her attention to Gil and the doctor, but then felt the gaze of the second man.
When she sensed it lifting from her, she glanced up at him.

A powerfully built man in a suit and tie, he was quite out of place in the scene, as if he
was simply passing by -- a disinterested observer. There was about him, Dawn sensed,
all the charm and grace of a slow-witted brute. As she watched him, he seemed to
notice the pilot for the first time, and went over to him. Dawn's intuition of danger had
already raised storm warnings all along her coastline. The second man, which she
instinctively dubbed Thor, had intimidation and danger written all over him. She noted
his callous attitude, and then saw him look over the pilot without showing any concern
other than curiosity.

Then “Thor” spoke. "There were two pilots. Where's the other one?"

Dawn took the time to stare at the man before answering. "He's in the cockpit. He's
dead."

Thor gave her a cursory acknowledgment, and headed for the cockpit to check.

Dawn mentally shook her head at the man's actions. She turned back to Gil and the
doctor, just as the doctor rose up and signaled the helicopter. A third man was standing
by the open cargo door. He quickly reached in, pulled out a stretcher and began running
toward them. Dawn turned back to the doctor, who was now looking at her.
"He's seriously injured, but I think he's going to be okay. We'll airlift him out of here."

Dawn breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God!"

The doctor turned to face her. Quietly, he asked, "Who are you?" His voice was
detached and menacing. And very, very cold.

Dawn hesitated only slightly. "I'm his fiancé."

The doctor thought about her answer, made a silent decision, and then asked, "You
okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine." Dawn watched his reaction. Her intuition told her his apparent relief was
not based on any genuine concern for her welfare, but rather that perhaps he now
wouldn't be troubled for any additional services. Dawn did not have a great deal of
respect for the callousness of many doctors she had encountered, but this man was far
worse. He continued to watch her, as she turned her attention back to Gil.

Obliquely, she remembered the pilot. Looking up, she said, "The pilot. He's seriously
hurt. He's lost a lot of blood." Without a word, the doctor looked over at the still figure.
When he made no immediate move, Dawn added, "You'd better check him."

The doctor looked back at her, and mentally made another decision. "Right." He quickly
walked over to where the wounded man was. Dawn watched him as he checked the
pilot. The doctor had seemed anxious as he attended to Gil, as if Gil's fate was
important. There had been no compassion, at least none Dawn could sense, but there
had, at least, been the feeling that Gil's health was important to the medical man.

Now, as the doctor checked the pilot, there seemed to be little or no concern at all. It
was as if he were looking at the pilot, not because he might render him some aid, but
only because Dawn had suggested it. There was also the subtle hint that the doctor was
not yet sure of her status, or whether or not Dawn's suggestion to check on the pilot
should be followed. The thought momentarily unnerved her. What kind of people were
these?

As the man with the stretcher arrived, the doctor stood up and came back to Gil and
Dawn. "He's dead," was his emotionless pronouncement. Dawn looked over at the pilot,
still sensing what she thought was his pain. Confused, she turned her head to one side,
trying to feel the thought from a different angle. Maybe, she began to think, it was Gil's
pain she was sensing. Only, it didn't feel quite right. If she had been hard pressed to
answer, she would have thought the pilot was still alive.

The third man, the helicopter's pilot, was positioning the stretcher for Gil, when Thor
returned. "Copilot's dead," he announced. Then with a cynical laugh, "He kind of lost his
head." With that, he looked at Dawn, seeing if she would share his little joke. Dawn
didn't bother to look at him, and ignored his sinister laugh. Instead, she concentrated on
keeping her poise, while the doctor had Thor and the pilot place Gil onto the stretcher.
The doctor then took Dawn's arm to walk her to the helicopter, while Thor and the pilot
carried the stretcher between them. Dawn wanted to shake off the Doctor's hand from
her arm -- she felt as if she were in the grip of someone escorting a victim up the stairs
to the platform of the guillotine. But there was an intuitive warning that she had no
choice for the moment -- that it was not yet time to break and run.

As they secured Gil and the stretcher in the helicopter, a second helicopter with the same
dark blue-black coloring began its approach. Dawn noticed that neither had any
identifying markings on their exteriors. At the same time, neither would have been
easily mistaken for angels of mercy, or flight-for-life saviors. They were far too ominous
looking. Gil's warnings were making more and more sense, particularly as Dawn and the
doctor approached the doorway of the dark helicopter. With his turning to help her into
the helicopter, she suppressed an involuntary shudder. She crawled inside and took her
place near Gil, using a makeshift strap to buckle herself in. The pilot worked around her,
making his way to the cockpit of the helicopter.

"Stay here and clean up the mess," the doctor ordered Thor. "Pack in the luggage and
any papers you find, and come back with the other copter."

"Can do," Thor replied. Casually, he turned and walked back to the crash site.

The doctor climbed in and pulled the helicopter hatch shut; then checked Gil again.
Satisfied with the current state of affairs, he relaxed, took a small jump seat and
strapped himself in. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes -- as if it had been a long
day and he had already been put to an excessive amount of trouble. The pilot,
meanwhile, was talking on the radio with either the other helicopter or someone else --
or both. Then he began preparing for takeoff.

Dawn was able to see out the side panel of the helicopter and for no reason she could
identify began to watch Thor as he approached the downed airplane's pilot. For just a
moment she thought she saw the wounded pilot, the one the doctor had pronounced
dead, raise his head as if asking for help. Thor standing nearby, noticed the movement
and went over to him. With what seemed a practiced technique, Thor raised his leg and
stomped down on the pilot's head.

Dawn immediately felt what she thought had been the pilot's pain, as if it suddenly
ended, followed by a sense of peace replacing it. She now knew that if the pilot had not
been dead before, he was now. Dawn continued to watch as Thor walked away to shuffle
through the debris. Glancing at the doctor, she saw that his eyes were still closed. The
pilot she realized, was also unaware of her observations, busy with the takeoff
preparations.

The scene had been surreal, the malevolence from Thor overwhelming. Dawn stifled any
scream she might have felt compelled to utter, and turned all of her attentions to Gil.
She now sensed his warnings in their full intensity. She had begun the descent into
another world, entering the dark forest -- alone and left to her wits for survival.

Slowly, as if in slow motion, the helicopter began to lift off and begin it's "mercy" flight
back to Lake Mach.
The Hierophant

Chapter One

Lake Mach was a private hideaway; a luxurious, extremely well-equipped, isolated

enclave, a resort designed for the very rich and the very powerful. It lacked nothing.
Save hospitality.

Arriving in the last moments of twilight, Dawn did not see the expansive grounds, the
numerous secluded and separate buildings, the nearby light-plane runway, the seaplane
docking facility, nor the lodge where some of the more notable secret meetings on the
planet had taken place over the years. She had only seen the lake on their approach --
that much was obvious. But most lakes are notoriously alike in their appearance. They
have a lot of water, most of it seen only on the surface. Only their shorelines give them
their distinctive qualities -- which the darkness hid for now.

Dawn's greeting was all business, and no hospitality. The helicopter landed, two men
arrived to take the stretcher, Dawn and the doctor followed, and within minutes they
were inside a private, two-bedroom bungalow with an impressive assortment of mobile
medical equipment standing by. Three very attractive nurses were already prepped and
ready for the new arrival. But without the doctor's explicit instructions, they appeared to
do nothing. A mobile X-Ray unit had already been set up, and Gil was taken directly to
it. The doctor then made it clear to Dawn there were several tests to be run. But he
also added what Dawn could only take as the ultimate impertinence.

As if looking for a reaction, he said, "Your services won't be needed right now."

Dawn was outraged, but held it in check, in the firm grip of her newly acquired sense of
survival at all costs. Instead, she backed away, bided her time, and for the moment,
recognized she would in fact be less than helpful. She would allow the alleged
professionals to do their work. But she also decided in that moment that she would
always dislike this doctor, even if he saved Gil and/or her from death, pain, suffering, or
any other inconvenience. The doctor, in her eyes, simply had no socially redeeming
value. She could dislike him with complete abandon.

Dawn went into the other bedroom and sat down. For several moments, she tried to use
her mind to heal Gil, and in the event she was unsuccessful, to at least protect him. She
had no idea if such activity would have any effect; she had no experience in this realm.
But she was going to make the effort in any case. It couldn't hurt. After a moment or
two, her intuition gently told her now was not the time. It was better that she take care
of herself. Her strength would be needed later.

Feeling very weary, but aware there were things to be done, she began looking around
the room. She quickly found the adjacent, private bathroom, a well equipped one with
all the necessities for unexpected, drop-in guests. She hesitated for some twenty
seconds before preparing for a hot bath. There was no thought of taking a shower; this
was a time for serious soaking.
As she disrobed, the strange duality of the place hit her. There were all the articles and
mundane evidences of welcoming an important guest, but none of the emotional
connections from the locals. Dawn could not shake the sense that the hosts or hostesses
had prepared for Gil's arrival, had laid out the red carpet, and were now going to do
everything to help him. But they would provide no welcome from the heart; only a
concern for the possible loss of a valuable asset. These people were not Gil's friends;
their interests were far more mercenary. The thought left a very disquieting feeling in
Dawn.

The bath, meanwhile, lived up to its promise. Slowly, she began to unwind. Even the
momentary slight disturbance of someone coming into her bedroom did not distract her.
The silence returned and stayed with her until she got out, took advantage of the guest
bathrobe, and re-entered the bedroom. There she found her purse and luggage, neatly
set on a small bench at the foot of her bed. She quickly checked her purse, noting that
the contents were apparently undisturbed. The $200 in cash Gil had suggested she carry
with her for emergencies, was still intact.

She turned next to the damaged luggage. For a moment, she simply sorted through her
clothes, separating them into two piles -- one for the undamaged articles and one for the
trashed ones. Dawn had torn, ripped, stained, and spotted enough dresses in her
lifetime that she seldom bothered to even attempt a salvage effort. Thus the largest pile
she was now accumulating would in her mind soon be discarded along with the useless
carrying case.

This activity basically left her with three outfits -- but none which could be construed as a
matched ensemble. Looking at the possibilities, she said to herself, "Looks like I'll be
making a fashion statement here at the resort." She grimaced to herself and began
dressing with one-third of the selected items that had managed to come out of the crash
relatively unscathed. Dressed, she went back into the room where the doctor and three
nurses were still administering to Gil. The doctor took little notice of her as she walked
in, apparently refreshed. Instead, he turned to one of the nurses, giving her
instructions, instructions Dawn could not quite hear.

She quickly dismissed the doctor's hostility, and asked, "How is he?" Her voice was firm
and authoritative. She was no longer going to take any slights by the "little man in the
white coat."

The doctor pretended not to notice her new found strength, but nonetheless answered.
"It's serious. He took a blow to the head, and may be bleeding internally. He has
several broken bones, lacerations, and..." For a moment he stopped, turning to address
her directly. "He needs some rest, a little time to recover from the initial trauma. We'll
do more tests in the morning."

"I'll stay with him," Dawn replied.

"No need. A nurse will be with him all the time."

Dawn ignored the implied directive, went to Gil's side, and took his hand. She could
sense he was indeed resting, and for now would not need her. Nevertheless she was
determined to stand her ground -- if only to make sure the doctor knew she would not
tolerate his insubordination any longer. For his part, the doctor merely cleared his throat
in disgust and left the room. Two of the nurses looked at each other, sharing a private
smile at Dawn's stubbornness with the doctor, and at a discrete distance, followed him
out of the room. The third nurse brought a chair up to the side of the bed for Dawn to sit
in. Dawn silently thanked her, and then set down to begin her vigil.
For several moments, she simply allowed herself to sit in Gil’s auric field, to sense
whatever messages might be waiting for her there. But when no revelations appeared,
she began to look deeper. In the process, she began to recall the last two months.

From the moment she had met him, Gil had impressed her with his power, intelligence,
and blatant charm. He had constantly astonished her with his flexibility, his ability to
communicate, along with the depth and breath of his knowledge in a bewildering variety
of topics. He had invariably displayed the spark and enthusiasm of an exceptional forty-
year-old, the health and vitality of someone ten years younger, and the mental outlook,
on occasion, of a wide-eyed six-year-old (what he referred to as the exposition of his
outer child). His exceptional intelligence (she was sure he was in the upper point one
percent in I.Q.) was nicely flavored with wit, experience, and an outrageous sense of
humor. In short, he had the drives of a younger man, and the wisdom of a sage. For
Dawn, it was really quite a nice combination.

And now he was laying quietly, with none of his power and potential in view. It was a
sobering thought for Dawn, as she leaned to one side, one arm beginning to support her
head.



Hours later, she was still there. The messages she kept sensing were all the same. Gil
was resting for the moment. There was muted pain, but nothing more. Finally, she
allowed the nurse on duty to convince her to go to bed and get some rest.

"You've been through quite an ordeal yourself. You're exhausted and a prime candidate
for post-traumatic stress. Go to bed. Get some rest. I'll call you if there's any
change."

Dawn looked at her for a moment, sensed her sincerity, and agreed. It was time to
sleep.

But with sleeping, came dreaming, visions of a desert landscape with blowing sand.
Below and off to her left, a meandering river valley flanked by lush, verdant fields. In
their midst a pyramid like structure -- a ziggurat. The mere thought of the ziggurat
transported Dawn instantly to its sacred quarters. There she saw the essence of Gil,
bare chested and Herculean in his demeanor, a drawn sword at his side. Her delight at
seeing him was quickly tempered as the woman, the goddess or whoever from her dream
on the airplane, approached from the left, her gaze intent upon Gil. As she came closer
to him, Gil turned, obviously enamored by the woman's mere presence. She smiled and
with a light gold chain slung about his neck, led him off to the right. Gil followed
willingly. Dawn found herself following as well.

She entered through an elaborate passageway into a luxurious, harem-like bedroom.

But there was no one there. Dawn moved though the room, sensing the smells and
sights of a very feminine occupant. Then she saw Gil's body lying on the bed, bloodied
and slashed, bits and pieces of the airplane's wreckage scattered about. Despite his
horrendous wounds and indications of vicious hand-to-hand combat, Gil looked
completely at peace, almost smiling. Dawn turned to her right to see the woman
standing and watching her. The woman was again in her full regalia -- the same gold
and lapis-lazuli crown, breastplate and other trinkets, the same nakedness (other than
her symbols of office), and the same intense attractiveness. Looking at Dawn, the
woman raised her hand and pointed toward the bed. Dawn turned to find a man she'd
never seen before, sitting on the bed watching her. He wore a well trimmed beard and
the armor of an ancient soldier, and yet there was a sense of saintliness. Perhaps a
different kind of saint, she thought. Then she noticed he was smiling at her. It was his
engaging smile that held her attention and stayed in her mind as she awoke.
Rolling over in her bed, Dawn reached for her journal, to capture on paper the contents
of her dream, the kind of dream she knew was important. It was when she didn’t find
her journal that she remembered where she was. The realization made her sit up in bed,
and look around. The bedroom was well appointed with tasteful furnishings, but seemed
of indistinct heritage -- rather like the classic, Expensive Generic. Her purse and luggage
were undisturbed. But then for the first time, she realized Gil's black briefcase was
missing. This immediately bothered her, but the thought faded as she remembered his
condition. She arose and quickly dressed. It was time to re-enter the world of the living.

Leaving her bedroom, she saw a man in the living area. He looked at her, but then
turned away. She sensed immediately he was a guard, a goon, and one with just
enough training to know he was not to interfere with his subject, but only to keep her
under surveillance. As Dawn continued to the bedroom where Gil had slept, she noticed
the man had unobtrusively pulled out a cellular phone and had begun making a call.
Dawn ignored the action, and focused her thoughts on Gil.

A second nurse greeted her, assured her Gil was resting peacefully, and that they would
be doing some additional tests during the next couple of hours. Dawn listened
attentively to the nurse; then crossed the room to take Gil's hand in order to try to verify
for herself that Gil was still okay. It was a strange sensation. On the one hand, her
senses told her everything was fine. On the other, Gil was not wholly present, as if he
had for a time left his body, allowing it to mend. Dawn had never before experienced the
sense of a temporary vacancy in another's body. It was very strange.

The nurse, seeing that Dawn was apparently satisfied with her diagnosis, offered, "You
can get some breakfast at the commons in the main lodge." When Dawn seemed to
accept the idea, she added, "The lodge is the large building next to the lake. Just take a
left as you leave the cabin."

Dawn took her advice, and headed for "the commons", noting that her "guard" pulled out
his cellular phone again as she left the cabin. She made a point of ignoring him.

Outside, the lodge was obviously the large building before her, but Dawn decided to test
the limits of her freedom and began walking in a random fashion -- checking out the
grounds and other buildings instead of proceeding directly to the lodge. Her training
under Gil's tutelage was paying off, as Dawn was already planning for contingencies and
the possibility of an impromptu escape. No one interfered with her movements, but she
could not shake the feeling she was being watched. Only the distraction of seeing the
manicured, idyllic mountain setting allowed her any relief.

She began to assess and analyze what she was seeing. There were numerous smaller
buildings tucked back in the trees, some immediately on the lake but most away from
the shoreline. She could see the two helicopters behind and to the left of the lodge, as
well as the seaplane tied up at a floating pier jutting out from just in front of the lodge.
The sky was dark and overcast, the green mountains in the distance across the lake
partially shielded by a smattering of light snow in the air. But rain or shine, it was a
beautiful area. It had all of the attributes of the upper-crust mountain resort --
luxurious, very private, and very exclusive. The only flaw was the vibes. The place
simply didn't feel right.

Dawn felt her surroundings, as well as saw them. There was a feel of dis-ease, or fear,
an utter lack of warmth and/or hospitality. There was no sense of relaxation; rather an
injunction to keep up one's guard, to watch carefully where you stepped. There was no
need for small signs telling you to keep off the grass -- it was understood such an
infraction would be summarily dealt with -- probably by firing squad. The residents, she
suspected, were not likely to be carefree, happy campers, living as they were in a
maximum security prison environment. Technically, they might be free to come and go,
but while at Lake Mach, they had better obey all of the rules to the letter.

For a moment, she stopped to look at the seaplane, her sub-conscious mind
accumulating data in the event of the need for a quick escape. Then the cool breeze
caught her attention, and she recalled how hungry she was. Appropriately, her stomach
made a low growling sound. Dawn smiled apologetically at the minor infraction of
etiquette, while at the same time obeying her body’s implied instructions, she turned
back to the lodge. Abruptly, she saw a figure standing behind one of the large plate
glass windows of the building's front. Dawn literally gasped as she recognized the
figure. It was the woman she had seen in her dreams, the same woman from both of
the momentous night visions! The woman now stood before her in the flesh -- albeit
perhaps under glass, and alas, fully clothed.

Dawn started walked toward the lodge with determination; she wanted a better look at
this woman. But the woman stepped back from the window and disappeared from view,
hidden by the reflecting glazing. Dawn, continuing up the path toward the front porch of
the lodge, appealed to her intuition for further information on this woman.

She came up zip! The very idea of a null reading surprised her, causing her to momentarily slow
her walk. She was picking up nothing from the woman. And not just nothing, but
absolutely zip, nada, zero. It had never happened before. Dawn could always sense
someone, even if only vaguely. But now it was as if the woman did not even exist, as if
she were in another dimension, peering through a window from another realm of time
and space.

It occurred to Dawn that perhaps she had just imagined the woman, that her intense
dreams, for some reason of emphasis, had manifested a vision in her waking state.
Dawn's mind eased slightly as she decided the sight of the woman had just been
imagination, a waking dream state. Her intuitive abilities would still be intact. Or at
least, she hoped they were.

Once inside the lodge, she was greeted by a smiling oriental who offered her a table in
the center of the nearly deserted, restaurant-style dining room. As he seated her, she
noticed another security man standing nearby. He seemed to be keeping his eye on her
as well and in the same subtle and unobtrusive way. Only the expected reflex to pull out
his cellular telephone clearly identified him and his purpose. Dawn silently dubbed him
"Goonie" ( in order to distinguish him from "Goon", the man back at cabin she and Gil
shared). Her waiter, however, was still standing close by, at her beck and call, ready to
wait on her hand and foot.

"Welcome to my humble abode. My name is Reginald."

The waiter's name was pronounced with a heavy English accent, and Dawn could not
resist smiling. Then she said, "I was told I could get something to eat here."

"It would be my great honor to serve you."

Dawn was even more pleased. "I'm quite hungry. What do you have?

A broad grin crossed over Reginald's narrow face. "For you, my lady, the world. If you
will but place your fate in my hands, I will deliver for your enjoyment all manner of
delectables."

Dawn felt herself relax almost to the point of laughing. "Show me your best," she
replied.
As Reginald scurried off, Dawn could not help but notice that, contrary to every other
aspect of Lake Mach she had thus far encountered, the waiter was extremely gracious,
displaying all of the best parts of oriental hospitality as if this was something of which he
was very proud: providing exemplary service. The continuing presence of the security
guard did not reduce Reginald's effectiveness at making Dawn feel at home, and at the
same time, from garnering points with all of his no-doubt illustrious ancestors. Dawn
had responded to his warmth, communicated her starvation status, and encouraged by
Reginald's broad smile, she had allowed him to take care of everything. She was not to
be disappointed.



Dawn was in the last throes of putting away Reginald's tour-de-force, an absolutely
massive breakfast, when in reaching for a small metal pitcher of syrup with which to
finish off the last remaining portion of a pancake, she managed to spill the pitcher’s
contents. Most of the errant maple syrup ended up as a small pond on the white
tablecloth, but one rivulet formed a miniature river connecting the pond with her blouse
and lap. The missile of syrup had completely missed her napkin (such is the way of the
world), and had left a dark, sticky stain in the middle of her blouse. A second, lesser
portion ended up on her skirt. The latter a person might be able to overlook. But the
yellow blouse was not going to be easy to disguise. The stain was just below her
breasts, but too high for a napkin to be casually placed.

Dawn looked down at the sticky mess, dabbing slightly at the blouse. When it was
obvious the stain amounted to a near-permanent dye job, she quit bothering, her
frustration mixed with a feeling of disgust at once again having to accept that, yes, she
did sometimes reap the rewards of being a maladroit. The momentary irritation slowly
began to subside, as she decided to ignore the temporary elimination of yet one more
article of her diminishing wardrobe, and concentrate instead on deciding which dress of
those still fit to wear she would choose next. Rearranging some of the plates to cover up
the syrup pool on the tablecloth, she scooted her chair up closer to the table (hoping the
tablecloth would serve to hide her affliction), and returned to her breakfast. To all
extents and purposes, everything was back to normal.

A few moments later, Nathan arrived. It was a significant change of pace.

"Good morning," he said, a studied, practiced and manipulative charm oozing out of
every pore. "I'm Nathan Fox, an associate of Gilbert's." Dawn looked up and smiled,
extending one hand, while the other hand used her napkin to cover her syrup stained
blouse. Nathan gallantly took her hand, but not in a handshake. It was more in the
form of acknowledging her intent -- as if the chivalrous thing to do was to prevent her
hand from being left waving aimlessly in the air. At the same time, he took control of
the situation by holding her hand in a way where she would not be allowed to take hold
of his hand. This all-controlling nature was otherwise subdued, as he spoke, "Don't let
me disturb your meal. Please continue eating." As she retrieved her hand, he smiled
again and asked, "May I sit with you?"

Dawn managed to say "of course" perhaps a millisecond before Nathan settled into his
chair.

She returned to finishing off the last bits and pieces of her breakfast, while Nathan
studied her. A strikingly beautiful woman, he observed. Dark, brunette hair, nicely
shaped and long enough to just drape her shoulders. There was also a face of classic
proportions, sufficient to qualify for any mythological goddess of beauty, intense eyes,
more intense that he could ever remember seeing, and a presence. Ah yes, a presence
-- one which spoke of experience, empowered femininity, intelligence, even wisdom.
Importantly, she also had a trim, ample and highly seductive body. It was the sort of
female body Nathan could really appreciate. 'Gilbert has excellent taste,' Nathan
thought. 'Exquisite, in fact.' While the suggestion of an empowered female was not to
Nathan's personal liking, he could probably overlook it in a moment of passion. This
woman, Nathan suspected, had been around the block more than once. He further noted
that her composure and complexion had survived the trip, such that her sense of
innocence had survived intact. Unfortunately, Nathan decided, she would be hard to
manipulate. Still, it was a nicely wrapped package.

As Dawn felt Nathan's eyes appraising her body, she also felt his mind probing her mind.
She had encountered others who had a semblance of her ability to look inside, but she
had never felt as much power as in Nathan's attempt. His probing was much more
deliberate, more practiced. It was also more violating, as if his intentions were far less
than honorable. Her immediate reaction was to close her mind to him.

Whereupon she sensed his surprise, as if he had seldom encountered someone who could
shut him down. Then his amazement seemed to turn more threatening, just before he
put up his own shields. Dawn could sense that Nathan was now viewing her with more
respect, but quite likely a respect built of fear rather than admiration. There was also a
subtle hint of curiosity, as if he were intrigued by just exactly who she was, and what she
might represent.

But such deep, penetrating thoughts were quickly and casually glossed over. It was time
to be charming. Smiling, he said, "You must have been quite hungry."

Dawn, her napkin dabbing at the last morsels to pass her lips, looked at the spread
before her. Four dinner (one of which was strategically located on top of a syrup spill)
and five salad plates were laid out before her. All were devoid of any remaining food, but
clearly, all had recently been conveyors of a variety of delectables. Dawn had eaten as if
there were no tomorrow. Reginald had outdone himself, secretly delighting in the fact he
had found a very appreciate patron. Dawn could only smile at Nathan's comment, as she
said, "The food was quite exceptional. Delicious, in fact."

"We rather like it that way." Dawn couldn't help but sense from Nathan's tone of voice,
that had the food not been up to par, the cook would have been summarily dispatched to
his ancestors.

"My compliments to the chef," Dawn added, leaning back in her chair.

Nathan made no reply -- Dawn assumed such compliments would probably be passed to
the chef by notifying him that he would be allowed to live for at least one more day.
Then Nathan smiled with all the charm at his command -- which was considerable and as
Dawn thought about it, very seductive. She would have to be on her guard not to let his
charm weaken her defenses.

"Allow me to welcome you to Lake Mach."

"Thank you," Dawn answered. "But tell me, I don't recall a Lake Mach on the map..."

"We are private individuals. Lake Mach definitely exists," he said, gesturing to the lake
outside the plate glass windows. "It's just not specified on many maps. We rather like it
that way."

Dawn smiled in return. She was not, however, going to continue that line of discussion.

"It's unfortunate we should meet under these adverse circumstances," Nathan added.
Dawn shook her head slightly, suddenly saddened by the reminder of Gil.

"I have been informed, however" Nathan continued, "That Gilbert is resting comfortably."

Dawn could not help but note that Nathan had been "informed", and that it was unlikely
he would have gone to see for himself. But she only said, "Yes. I've just come from
him."

"As I'm sure you're aware, his condition is quite serious." Nathan continued, his words
carefully chosen. "It appears he will need to be taken back to Seattle, where the doctors
and specialized medical equipment are readily available. Unfortunately," his voice
betraying no emotion, "We may not be able to do this immediately. A late spring cold
front is pushing though at the moment, and there is already heavy rain in Seattle. It is
not good flying weather, and we would not want to take any undue risks. Still, time may
be of the essence."

"Can he be taken by ambulance?"

"I'm afraid there are no roads to Lake Mach. Our only connection with the outside world
is by airplane or helicopter. We rather like it that way." Nathan's look became one of
pride. "But we have several aircraft which would be more than adequate. As soon as the
weather clears."

"Of course." Dawn continued to smile, as she took stock of the man in front of her. He
was above average height (about six six), robust in his stature, and had short and very
neat, light colored hair -- the latter a combination of blonde and whitish gray. His skin
was tanned, and except for the white hair, gave him an Arab-like appearance. The
overall effect was that of a white-haired, bronzed giant. His eyes were indefinable,
constantly shifting shades in what might have been a highly specialized chameleon
quality. There was also an overriding sensation of his being extremely old -- even
ancient. Experience had been etched into his face, and then with the most modern
techniques of plastic surgery, carefully plastered over. The resulting facade was one of
sophistication and intelligence. It was not a pretty face, but it was very definitely a
powerful one.

"If there is anything we can do for you..." he began.

"Yes. As a matter of fact," Dawn smiled to hide her concern, "Gil, Gilbert, had a black
briefcase. I know it survived the crash..."

"I have it," Nathan interjected. "It was delivered directly to me. I suppose Thomas must
have assumed it was corporate business. I'll see to it that it's returned to your cabin
immediately."

Dawn smiled. "Thank you. I'm just relieved it wasn't lost."

"We don't lose things here at Lake Mach," Nathan answered coldly. For a moment the
two simply looked at each other, both smiling, both thinking intently. Then Dawn broke
the contest by turning her chair to face Nathan more squarely across the angle of the
table. At the same time, she backed the chair up to put more distance between them. It
was another classic, maladroit moment.

For Goonie had chosen that moment to approach them, apparently coming with a
message for Nathan. Dawn's abrupt move with her chair caught Goonie squarely
between his legs. One of the short, stocky protrusions on either side of the chair's back
did the most damage -- it not only slammed into Goonie's genitals on the way in between
his legs, but also caught them as he violently retreated. His heavy grunt, laced with
anguished pain, told everyone in the room the extent of his mortal wounds, as he bent
over and used his hands to protect himself from further damage.

Dawn was apologetic, while Nathan was astounded, surprised, and intrigued -- all at the
same time. Goonie, for his part, could never quite deliver his message, his voice now
strangely garbled. As he retreated from the table, Dawn tried to apologize. Then she
turned to Nathan.

"I'm terribly embarrassed."

"Just an accident. Don't be concerned." Then with a wider smile, "I'm sure he'll be fine.
In a few days." Nathan almost laughed, but added, "Certainly not your fault."

"Oh, but it is," Dawn grimly replied.

Nathan was intrigued and primed for any data point of information. "What do you
mean?"

Dawn admitted, "I have a tendency to have accidents. Clumsy accidents. I'm a
maladroit."

"Really?" Nathan glanced down at her stained yellow blouse.

Dawn followed his glance and said, somewhat blithely, "Syrup."

Nathan continued to watch her as she began to recount almost forty years of imperiling
others and, occasionally, herself. "I've been like this for as long as I can remember. My
mother loves to tell everyone that when I was crawling and learning to walk, that
anything in the house capable of falling over would come crashing down the moment I
went by. It became so standard at my schools that people ceased being surprised. I've
come to accept it. It's just that, occasionally, it's tough on others." As she talked,
Nathan's curiosity had been slowly turning to suspicion.

"You seem to have accepted this aspect of your nature with admirable calm."

Dawn shrugged. "It's part of me. I don't think I have a choice."

"On the contrary," he replied, "Your lack of lingering embarrassment, your

acknowledgment of what one might call a talent, your total acceptance of this aspect of
your being..." Nathan took a deliberate breath. "One might conclude you use your
handicap to disarm and lull the competition."

Dawn was surprised. "I'm not in competition with that man."

"We are all in competition. With everyone. It is our nature."

Dawn sat for a moment, considering the possibilities. "I don't think it had ever occurred
to me my clumsiness could be counted as a 'talent'. Or that being a maladroit could be
construed as a subtle and carefully planned intelligence, a means to somehow
manipulate others."

Nathan was quite matter-of-fact about the concept. "We all use whatever talents seem
to present themselves to us. But we also often hide those same talents in order to
appear less threatening, less intimidating. Intimidation may accomplish many goals, but
it seldom discovers the true nature of those around us; whether or not we can trust
them, use them, or to be able to anticipate what they will do next. Knowing what to
expect, of course, is essential for accomplishing anything, for ensuring things do not get
out of control. Your talent is just one more technique for misleading and diverting an
adversary."

Dawn could hardly believe the passion of Nathan's paranoid paradigm. He had to be
really out of touch, as much as some radical fundamentalists she had encountered. But
it didn't seem wise to contradict him with reality, or to attempt a conversion of his
obviously strongly held beliefs. Instead, she took a page out of the female's don't-rock-
the-boat, make-him-think-he's-incredibly-wise-and-naturally-you're-going-along-with-
him routine, and told him a story to illustrate his point.

"You're probably right. I do recall I once began playing chess with a male friend in
college. I wasn't very good. I had never read any of the books, and didn't really know
beans about the game. But somehow we began playing with him thinking I was a great
chess player. I think he must have mistaken me for someone else. In any case, when
we began, he started out by interpreting my not-very-bright, unexpected, and frankly
outrageous moves as brilliant, innovative, and extremely well thought out. This, in turn,
led him to make some really bad moves, and I beat him consistently."

"Did he ever discover his error?"

"Oh, yes. And then he began to beat me every time. By the book. I never won again."

"Interesting. But probably not relevant." Nathan continued to study her, as she showed
surprise at his rude appraisal of her story. Abruptly, he asked, "Were you overweight as
a child?"

Dawn could only look shocked.

Nathan forged ahead, justifying his bluntness. "An overweight child, or one decidedly not
pretty, might develop a talent for clumsiness, just in order to gain attention or to be
noticed."

Dawn's shock turned to an unremitting stare. More than anything thing in the world, she
loathed people who tried to psychoanalyze her, particularly about her clumsiness. It was
clearly none of their business, and the unrequested advice was never welcome. She
could imagine dozens of equally arrogant replies for anyone who strayed onto such
sacred ground. Accordingly, for just a moment, she considered a biting, scathing retort.

But Nathan's countenance suggested to her that he was unlikely to tolerate such a verbal
attack, particularly on his own turf! Instead, she held her pique in check and said, "I
must admit I was a bit of a butterball as a teenager. But it's not something I like to talk
about." Dawn frowned, trying to convey to Nathan her distaste for the subject.

Nathan pretty well missed her subtle hint. He simply smiled, thinking he had made his
point. Then he returned to business. "The Doctor tells me you're Gilbert's fiancé."

"Yes," Dawn lied, a confident smile finding its accustomed place on her face.

"Have you been married before?"

"Yes. I lost my family in a car accident several years ago."

"How unfortunate. And how long have you known Gilbert?" Dawn could not avoid the
sense that his tone had undercurrents and undertows which might drag her down.
"Two months." She quickly decided it was not time to offer additional information.

"Not a long time." When she didn't object to the assessment he added, "How did you
meet?"

"At a workshop." After hesitating, she added, "The subject was: Death and Dying."

Nathan appeared unimpressed. "Ah yes, the obsession with death. So typical of your
kind."

Dawn readily took offense. "It was a mutual interest, but hardly an obsession."

"I'm sure it was quite romantic. Just the sort of thing to bring two people together."

Dawn thought she saw the hint of a sarcastic smile on Nathan's face. But she also felt
his intensity and intention. This was an important interview and Nathan was deadly
serious, if not dangerous. His questions were too precise, too gauged to determine her
innermost thoughts to be casual conversation. The charm was still there, spread like an
overdose of hollandaise sauce. But Dawn was not about to fall prey to it. At the same
time, she could not afford to let him know his charm wasn't working.

Her terse answers did have one unexpected effect. His questions became more direct.

"And you say you've never heard of Lake Mach?"

"No," Dawn answered simply, wondering why that would be important.

"Perhaps then you're familiar with The Humanki. Gilbert may have mentioned them."

Dawn easily said, "No." At the same time, she was surprised to sense Nathan's deeply
felt views on whoever or whatever the Humanki were. She also realized Nathan had
asked the question as if she were connected to a lie detector. Only in this case, there
were no electronics -- only Nathan effectively gauging her response in his own way. It
occurred to her that never having heard of the Humanki was a very good thing for her.
There was clearly no love lost between them and Nathan.

"Perhaps you're into goddess worship. It seems all the fad nowadays."

Dawn was still flying by the seat of her pants. "No. But I've some friends so inclined."

Nathan took a sudden notice. "Members of the 'Cult of Isis?"

Dawn could only look perplexed. "I have no idea."

"And the date, May 1, 2011... Mean anything to you?"

"No," Dawn lied.

Nathan, apparently relieved, began to ease off. Then he asked, with less outward
emotion (but just as direct), "Surely Gilbert has talked about the so-called 'crop
circles'?"

Dawn was immediately perplexed. The change of pace had momentarily caused her to
drop her guard. "No, he's never mentioned them, although I've heard of them. I believe
they're sculptured designs in grain fields, mostly in Southwestern England and probably
hoaxes."

"Oh, they're not hoaxes!" Nathan countered, his emotions suddenly piqued. "A few
perhaps. But the important ones are far too complicated, far too precise to be hoaxes!
Hoaxers don't put together fractal designs such as 'The Mandelbrot' in Cambridgeshire,
which is, incidentally, aligned with Cambridge, the principal center for the study of
Chaos Theory. Or 'The Barbury Castle' configuration with its sacred geometry
overtones. 'The Serpent' at Hungerford. Those were no hoaxes! No more than the five-
bladed turbine like device on Andrew Lloyd Webber's estates. That one was done
overnight despite the presence of one of the best surveillance systems in England!"

Dawn mentally took note, recognizing instinctively the threat of the fanatic; the rage
characteristics which were surfacing in Nathan as he talked. She sensed he was very
disturbed by the appearance of the crop circles, as if they were something he had no
control over and worse yet, could not explain. From Dawn's point of view, a disturbed
fanatic was doubly dangerous. Quickly, she recovered her previous defenses and
returned to watching Nathan with even greater care.

Nathan was still in his own world, his mind rumbling about with thoughts of the pieces
that simply would not fit into his private puzzle. Abruptly he voiced some of his
concerns. "There's also the series of one large and twenty-one smaller circles stretched
out in a long looping arc which appeared during the time the Shoemaker-Levy comet
was striking Jupiter! Twenty-one pieces! Just like the comet!" Nathan seemed angry at
the very idea of their appearance in the latter half of July 1994. Then, to make his point
with finality, he added, "That was no hoax!"

"But where do they come from?'

Nathan seemed even more hostile. "I don't know."

Dawn decided she needed to lighten things up a bit. "Maybe they were done by
extraterrestrials."

Her answer only made him suspicious. "Oh? Do you believe in extraterrestrials?"

Dawn was surprised at Nathan's sudden intensity, but managed to back down quickly.
"Not really. At least, not on Earth. But on other planets, sure. I suppose it's inevitable
that there has to be intelligent life somewhere in the universe."

Dawn's answer seemed to satisfy Nathan, and for a second, he seemed to relax. As if he
had remembered where he was and was ready to make the effort to regain his
composure. Throwing on his cloak of sophisticated facade, he politely asked, "May I
inquire into your religious views?"

Dawn had reached her limit. "They're personal." As Nathan raised his eyes, Dawn took
the opportunity to divert the conversation. "You haven't told me about the lodge here at
Lake Mach."

Nathan smiled slightly, as he casually remarked, "We call our little group, The Patrons."

"You mean, as in a patron of the arts?"

"Naturally. Of course, it depends on what you call art. We have very specific tastes."
"I'm sure." Dawn quickly decided not to pursue that train of thought. Instead she
smiled and said, "I've always found it intriguing that a patron is considered a good thing,
someone to be sought. But for a patron or anyone else to be patronizing, that's not so
good."

Nathan's enigmatic reply was, "It's a strange language. Most of them are." Then,
primarily to himself, he muttered, "I sometimes wonder if that had been a mistake."

'What in the world does that mean?' Dawn wondered. But then she decided her best
defense was a good offense. Without hesitating, she asked, "And what do you do? The
Patrons I mean."

Nathan's reply carried with it a notable sense of pride. "We take care of things. Plan for
the future. Keep things on an even keel. Maintain control. Above all, maintain control."

"Sounds fascinating. And you do it all from Lake Mach?"

"Oh no. We're all over the world. This is just a retreat, one of many locations."

"It's a very nice place."

"We rather like it that way." Nathan paused for emphasis, but only for a second.
"Obviously, rank must have its privileges. Those with influence must of necessity be
rewarded for their efforts. Just as the Father God has rewarded his faithful, his flock."

Dawn stiffened as she felt the impact of Nathan's last statement. 'Was Nathan a closet
fundamentalist?' she wondered. 'Strange! He didn't seem to be religious. But the talk
about a ‘Father God’... Was there something more there?'

"And just as the Father God rewards his followers," Nathan continued, "He must also
discipline and punish those who would violate his covenants."

Outwardly, Dawn was able to keep a nondescript smile on her face. Internally, her
emotions and thoughts were running amuck. Nathan was suddenly displaying all the
qualities of the fanatical high priest, the dark side of The Hierophant. It was Dawn's first
exposure to what was promising to be a long and eventful journey. When Dawn did not
reply, Nathan continued, with a heavy emphasis, "The masses must be controlled and
never allowed to desecrate the ground upon which they stand."

"The masses?" Dawn could only look perplexed.

Nathan immediately lightened up. "I'm reminded of a cartoon from the Wizard of Id.
The king is walking by a window, when he hears the cry, 'The peasants are revolting!'
The king then says, 'They always have been!'" Nathan chuckled, as he added, "I'm afraid
I must agree."

Dawn gamely tried to smile herself. Her efforts weren't particularly successful.
Whereupon she tried another tact: diversion. "Several years ago," she began, "I was in
a play called Anastasia. She was one of the daughters of the Czar of Russia."

"Yes, I do seem to recall her," Nathan added. "Lovely creature. Her name comes from
the Greek word, meaning 'of the resurrection'." Looking intently at her, he asked, "Did
you know that?"

"No. But how very interesting." Dawn then retreated to her story. "The one thing I
remember about the play -- and I can't remember if it was in the script, or as part of our
research in preparing for the performance -- but there was the story of the Czar and his
family touring in South America. At one point they came across army ants on the move.
I remember how dismayed they were that seemingly nothing could stop those army
ants. It was trivially easy to kill a single ant, but the mass of ants could never be killed
or even diverted from their course. The Czar of Russia at the height of his power was
helpless before a mass of insects. It was an interesting lesson in the power of the
masses. Somehow I've always kept the story in the back of my mind."

Nathan was delighted at Dawn's tale. "Exactly!" Given the impetus, he took off. "You've
captured the situation in a nutshell! A single person is easy to deal with; always has
been. But when there are just too many, when they breed like flies in an uncontrolled
population explosion, then they become dangerous. That’s been the problem from the
outset, when they first learned to breed, when they first fell from grace. There were just
too many of them, even for a god to deal with. They must be controlled, and in
whatever way that works. It's not a time for squeamish solutions!

"This is the reason, the justification for FEMA's rules," Nathan continued, his passions
obviously tapped. "In emergencies, the authorities must have the power to separate
families! It's expedient, efficient, and absolutely required! More importantly, it also
serves to control the rabble rousers by holding their families hostage!”

"As Patrons," Nathan added, "We must be advocates of many causes. Not just popular
or socially acceptable ones. When decisions affecting millions must be made, then they
must be made!"

Dawn could see she had struck a nerve. She could also sense a desperation on Nathan's
part to somehow justify himself, to perhaps authenticate a prior fateful decision he had
made.

His eyes began to glow with a fervent intensity. "Tell me... Do you think the A-bombing
of Hiroshima and Nagasaki was justified?" He stared at Dawn with anxious anticipation,
leaning forward toward her as if hanging on every word she might utter.

Dawn knew immediately her answer was of critical importance to him. Carefully, her
intuition honed for any clue, she began, "It certainly shortened the war. And thus saved
many lives."

"Exactly," he responded with enthusiasm. "War is not for the timid. It was a question of
saving the invasion forces from devastating losses."

Dawn tried to regain some of her integrity. "Of course, it was a bit tough on the
Japanese."

Nathan waved aside the idea and leaned back in his chair. "The Japanese brought it on
themselves. Their cities cried out for the vengeance of the Father God."

Dawn was about to retort, when Nathan seemed to enlarge upon the subject. Turning to
her, in a low and deadly earnest tone, he said, "Tell me, what do you think? Is it okay to
A-bomb two cities, two cities that have -- to use the biblical criteria -- not ten righteous
men among them?"

Dawn had no idea of how to answer the question. There seemed to be a confusion of
exactly which cities. Hiroshima and Nagasaki, or somewhere else? 'Were there plans in
the works for two more victims of modern nuclear technology?' The thought horrified
her, and for a long agonizing second, she had no idea how to answer. Then a rescue
came from an unexpected quarter. A woman had come up to their table from behind
where Dawn was sitting, and, standing directly behind her, addressed Nathan.
"Excuse me, Nathan. You have an urgent communiqué." Dawn was struck by the
woman's voice. It was entrancing; deep and mellow, filled with strength. It was
definitely not the voice of a servant or a messenger. There was something far more.
Furthermore, the woman’s sudden arrival also had the endearing quality of saving Dawn
from having to answer Nathan's last question. Dawn decided she would like the new
arrival. Perhaps even bless her.

Nathan, however, was not easily deterred. "Can it wait?"

"I'm afraid not. Los Angeles."

Nathan was begrudgingly convinced. Turning to Dawn and taking her hand, "Please
excuse me. Duty calls, but I hope we can continue this delightful conversation soon."

Dawn agreed, smiling, and vowing to avoid any such continuation like the plague!

Rising, Nathan looked at the woman. "Anna. If you would be so kind..."

"Of course," the woman said, as she moved to take Nathan's place.

Nathan turned to Dawn, "May I present one of my associates, Ms. Anna Zedek. Anna,
this is..." his gallantry quickly faltering for lack of having bothered to learn her name,
"Gilbert's fiancé." With the introductions complete, he left.

As the woman came around to shake her hand, Dawn was stunned! Anna was the
woman in Dawn's dreams! To the tee! Flaming red hair, unmatched power in her
carriage, and the eyes of a goddess/high priestess/what-have-you, she was an exact
match! Dawn was literally shaken, while Anna acted as if nothing were amiss.
"Delighted to meet you," she said. When Dawn continued to stare in shocked
amazement, Anna sat down and added, "And I'll wager you have a name other than
'Gilbert's fiancé'."

The question, not being overly difficult, allowed Dawn to answer. "Dawn Riordan."

Anna smiled in her best intoxicating style. "A beautiful name. For a beautiful woman."

Dawn kept grasping at straws, trying to regain her composure. 'It would be quite clever
of me,' she thought, 'to actually say something!' The verbal response to her charge was,
"Thank you."

"How's the interview going?" Anna's smile was broad but unreadable.

As was the rest of her. Dawn could feel a wavering of Anna's power of intimidation, and
simultaneously a suggestion of Anna being a friend to Dawn. It was a strange
combination. At the same time, Anna was actually harder for Dawn to probe than
Nathan. Dawn's five physical senses confirmed that, indeed, Anna was sitting before
her. But her sixth sense of the woman was absent. It was for Dawn, exceedingly
strange; as if she were seeing someone talking, but suddenly hearing nothing. It left one
groping. Still, Anna was being kind. A potentially suspicious act at Lake Mach.

"I think," Dawn finally replied, "we were just talking. Was it an interview?"

Anna smiled, and looked deeply into Dawn. Her quest apparently successful, Anna
decided Dawn knew better, but that she had decided not to voice it. Which was okay.
After a pause, Anna said, "Nathan does not have conversations. He directs, he
interviews, he briefs or debriefs. But I've never known him to converse. I suspect it's
entirely too intimate for him."

Dawn finally smiled -- even a hint of laughter popping up. "That, I can believe."

Anna's tone changed just enough to indicate she wanted to revise the topic of
conversation. "How long have you and Gil been engaged? Apparently, he's been
keeping secrets from us."

"Just a couple of weeks," Dawn finally replied. Then to try to make it sound more
credible, along with an appropriate act of shyness and embarrassment, she added,
"Actually, a week and three days."

"Ten days?" Anna looked surprised. She did not look as if she believed Dawn, but
apparently was sufficiently kind not to call Dawn a liar.

"Yes," Dawn answered.

"I trust you love him very much."

"Very much," Dawn quickly replied.

"Gil is an exceptional man, and deserves an exceptional woman. A Psyche to his Eros. I
hope you're up to the challenges."

Dawn's reply was confidence itself. "I think I am. We're very good for each other."

"I'm sure." Her smile lightened. "Gil had already mentioned your name. He just failed,
apparently, to add that the two of you were romantically involved."

Dawn decided to gently set the record straight, "We are very much in love."

"No doubt," Anna conceded. "But love itself can be quite a challenge. It sometimes
requires a great deal of one. Particularly, under extreme circumstances. Like now, for
example."

"I think I'm up to it," Dawn replied. "I fully intend to stay with him through all of this."

Anna's eyes twinkled with a new found seriousness. "And beyond?" It was a loaded
question. When Dawn did not reply, Anna said, "Naturally, we are all very concerned for
Gil. Myself in particular." Then her voice grew more pointed and precise. "It would be
the worst kind of tragedy for you to lose him now, while you're here at Lake Mach. The
worst kind of tragedy."

Dawn tried not to countenance the intensity of Anna's words. "I don't intend to lose
him."

"Of course not."

Dawn suddenly began receiving a different feeling from Anna, as if Dawn's intuitive radio
receiver was picking up a new station, or one that had previously been silent. Anna's
interest in Gil's connection to Dawn had at first seemed to be predicated on a genuine
and personal concern for the man. Dawn was aware, of course, that Anna might also
have been probing to find a weakness in Dawn, the potential for manipulating her in the
future. It had been the latter possibility which kept Dawn on the defensive, adamant
about standing up and rejecting any implied lessening of her relationship with Gil. But
now, suddenly, there was something else: The distinct sense Dawn's fate was
inextricably entwined with Gil's. His prognosis, in effect, also that of Dawn's!

More notably, from Dawn's point of view, Anna had seemed suddenly to allow her into
her mind. Dawn was picking up from Anna the clear and definitive message that Dawn
was in danger as long as Gil was. Gil's demise might very well lead to her demise. But if
Gil could survive long enough to make it back to Seattle, Dawn could as well. There was
the sense that women had very limited powers at Lake Mach (with the possible, very
notable exception of Anna). While Nathan had shown no signs of being under the spell of
Anna's strikingly beautiful presence, there had been the suggestion that he treated her
with respect (perhaps even having possibly learned the hard way the consequences of
not doing so).

Abruptly, the intuitive communiqué shut down. Dawn was left only with the warning, but
with no hint of Anna's actual intentions. Anna might have inadvertently let her guard
down, giving Dawn the opportunity to see the lay of the land. And even then, Anna could
still be a potential danger. Or. Anna might have intentionally protected Dawn by
purposefully alerting her of the dangers. The problem was that there was no way to
know for sure. Dawn would have to take her clue from Gil's earlier warning, 'Trust no
one!' Gil had not made an exception for Anna, and thus, there was no reason for Dawn
to make a special allowance for her either.

Dawn had been left to her thoughts for a brief moment. Then Anna's head turned
slightly, as if to hear better. A thoughtful expression descended over her face, as she
again faced Dawn head on. "I'm afraid I must return to my duties. And you'll want to be
getting back to Gil."

Dawn suddenly realized her potential information source was leaving. For no logical
reason, Dawn seemed compelled to ask one more question. "Who are the Humanki?"
she blurted out, just as Anna had begun to rise. Dawn quickly realized she was probably
stepping on someone's toes.

But Anna merely smiled. "I'm afraid I'm not at liberty to say. You'll have to ask
Nathan."

'Fat chance,' Dawn thought. But before she could reply, Anna had stood up, and with
only the slightest attention to Dawn, walked out of the room and into the interior of the
lodge.

Dawn rose as well as she watched the other woman leave the room. Anna's stride and
sense of immediate purpose impressed Dawn. 'That woman,' Dawn thought, 'could have
played the part of Pallas Athena without batting an eye. She was a "woman of
independent means" and obviously adept at coping very successfully in a patriarchal
society. And she certainly didn't waste time on pleasantries.' Then Anna's injunction for
Dawn to be prepared returned and Dawn began walking out of the lodge, heading back to
the cabin. Goonie, apparently, was still nursing the ultimate insult to his manhood and
was nowhere to be seen.

Outside, as she began to prepare and plan what to do next, Dawn remembered Gil's
urgent preparations for their trip to Lake Mach. They had been given very little notice,
and Gil had seemed particularly distracted by the need to finish up everything before
leaving. One item in particular had been a letter, one Gil had insisted on typing on his
manual typewriter, just before leaving the office and heading for the airport.

The thought of Gil's manual typewriter caused another stir of emotion (on top of all of
the others), as Dawn recalled his idiosyncrasy of always using a manual typewriter. Gil
believed it avoided any possible security risk of a word processor being hacked into, or
even the more remote possibility of picking off the electrical signals from a simpler
electric typewriter and somehow decoding the information. Gil didn't think the latter was
probable (even though he was fairly confident of the former), but he also believed the
very latest advances in spy technology were seldom imagined by the public until years
later. And in the case of his urgent letter, he had even gone to the trouble of using two
blank sheets as pads behind the letter stationary itself, in order to prevent anyone from
picking any information off the typewriter's roller.

As a further precaution, Gil had included the blank sheets when he wrapped his letter
and several enclosures in tinfoil and placed the entire contents in an oversized envelope.
The idea that a letter could be deciphered through the envelope was not that far-fetched,
as any professional and accomplished busy-body can attest. While this might seem
rather paranoid to the casual observer, Gil had always been quick to note that paranoia is
the illusion that someone is out to get you. If someone really is out to get you, then it's
not an illusion, and thus not paranoia. Furthermore, the reality of the world was that
there was a massive amount of data collection occurring in the most mundane of
situations, with the express purpose of either preventing the individual from taking
advantage of someone or some organization, or to control those individuals, and/or to
"get them". Or all of the above. Gil, working in an area where knowledge was power,
simply took precautions.

Dawn had watched Gil address the envelope (by hand), but then in the rush of getting
out of his apartment, she had not paid it any further attention. Thinking back, she
realized she had not seen him put a stamp on it. Nor had she seen Gil mail the letter.
Inasmuch as she had been with him constantly thereafter, from the time of leaving the
office until boarding the private jet, she felt certain he had not mailed the letter. The
question now, was whether or not it was in his briefcase.

Back in the cabin, she went directly to her room, but there was still no briefcase and thus
no letter. Deciding the problem would have to be addressed later, she went into Gil's
room. There she found a stranger -- a man Dawn assumed to be yet another security
goon -- alone in the room with Gil. Dawn ignored the man and focused her attentions on
Gil, who was still resting, but who seemed to be a bit more active, moving slightly in the
bed as if dreaming. Dawn silently took the empty chair by the bed and took his hand.
Her first sensation was that he was back! She felt his peace, a rambling sense of
continuity, and a vagueness clouded in mists. But he was back in his body! Perhaps he
was looking for an opportunity, or just a good reason to come back into consciousness.
Waves of relief swept over her.

Her relief was then interrupted by a sudden feeling of being stared at. Challenged by
such audacity by the hired help, Dawn abruptly turned to confront her visual assailant.
But before she could say anything, she saw him clearly for the first time and immediately
realized that he was not a typical goon. His appearance and demeanor was such that he
could easily have been Nathan's brother (and in fact, was). For a moment Dawn could
only look at him, surprised by his appearance.

Then he smiled. "Pardon the intrusion, Miss Riordan. I'm Kurt. I was watching over
Gilbert while the nurse was out of the room."

"That's very kind of you. Thank you."

Kurt silently acknowledged Dawn's gratitude with a slight bow, just as one of the nurses
entered the room carrying a large, automatic syringe and shot-injecting device. Seeing
Dawn, the nurse suddenly hesitated, as if caught in the act. Dawn began to feel a wave
of panic as she stared at the huge needle and gun. The nurse quickly turned to Kurt, as
if expecting further instructions. Kurt, meanwhile, being a man of the world, responded
with a creative, spontaneous lie.
"Are those the Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever shots?"

The nurse, verbally stumbling in her attempt to go along with the ruse, managed to
reply, "The Rocky Mountain...? Oh yes. The shots. Yes, of course."

Kurt then smiled at Dawn with the expression of a prison warden watching his least
favorite prisoner head for the gas chamber. "We've been having a run of Rocky Mountain
Spotted Fever in recent weeks. The disease can be quite serious, but by inoculating
everyone... Including yourself..."

As Kurt and the nurse were attempting to perpetrate their fraud, Dawn's mind had
flashed back to the essential ingredients of an episode between her and Gil, when she
had casually mentioned a television commercial to him. The commercial had been
advertising the means whereby a pet owner could have an implant inserted into their pet
and thereafter keep track of their movements with an electronic monitoring device. Gil's
expression had suddenly turned into one of outrage. Dawn had been more than a little
shocked at his reaction.

Until he explained that any such technology could just as easily be used on humans.
Initially, according to Gil, they would justify it for aliens in the United States, just in case
the aliens turned out to be terrorists. Then prison inmates could be implanted with
devices so that their movements could always be monitored, particularly in the event of
an escape. Implanting parolees would also be a logical procedure. But then, soldiers
and sailors could also be implanted, with the rationale of their being more readily found
and/or rescued in cases of Missing in Action or for whatever reason. Then children, in
order to forestall possible kidnappings -- even from an estranged parent. It would then
be only a matter of time before justifying virtually every member of the population being
implanted and monitored, with or without their permission, and in many cases without
their even knowing they were being implanted! Bills had already been introduced in the
Congress to implant "biometric identifier microchips" capable of being read by machine
and traceable by satellite, and readily inserted into babies at birth and in alien workers
upon their arrival in the United States. In Gil’s mind, it was the ultimate invasion of
privacy, and yet another example of a coming police state; 1984, a decade or so late.

The idea had horrified Dawn, and now her intuition was telling her it was about to happen
to Gil and herself. Thinking quickly, she asked, "Were you planning on giving a shot to
Gil?"

Kurt's surprise was evident. "Well yes, naturally. On Doctor's orders, of course."

"Unfortunately, Gil has allergies to several medicines."

"You're kidding!"

"No, I'm not," Dawn replied brazenly. "I've had a few reactions to shots myself. I think
I'd like to talk to the Doctor before either one of us receives a shot.”

Kurt's face reddened, unaccustomed to ever being thwarted by a woman. For a split
second, he contemplated her immediate, not to mention cruel and unusual, execution.
But then he turned instead to the nurse, who had remained painfully silent as she
watched the interplay between the heavyweights. His reply was one of misdirection.
"Why don't we leave Miss Riordan and her fiancé alone?" The nurse quickly acquiesced
to Kurt, and setting the syringe on the table by Gil, followed Kurt out of the room.

Dawn stood up immediately and went to the syringe gun. There she saw on the back of
the gun, an electronic "2". Her panic increased, as she looked around for hints of any
solution which might offer themselves. Grabbing Gil's bed smock, she wadded up a
section, and then fired the gun point-blank into the cloth. The electronic "2" became a
"1". She then felt the cloth and could just barely feel a hard object partially enmeshed in
the hospital-style clothing. With no further hesitation, she fired the gun a second time,
this time into the heel of her shoe. The gun's electronic signal now read "0".
Accompanied by a heavy sigh, she put the gun down and returned to her chair.

It was ten minutes before a second nurse arrived on the scene. Without a word, she
smiled at Dawn, and then seeing the syringe gun, crossed the room to pick it up. Her
surprise was evident.

"I think one of the other nurses has already given Gil his shot. In fact she even gave me
one. Something about a Rocky Mountain Fever..."

As Dawn smiled and unconsciously rubbed her hip, the nurse accepted the story. This
angel of mercy was not into questioning her superiors. Taking the syringe gun, she
verified that Dawn had received the second shot (as opposed to the first), and then left
the room to record the information. Dawn relaxed slightly, sensing nothing more would
be said. For the moment she was safe, but the nagging realization that she and
everyone else would always have to be on their guard in the future continued to nag at
her.

Dawn went back to attempting a telepathic communion with Gil. Within moments,
Goonie's presence entered her mind and confused the picture. The well dressed thug
had quietly entered the room, hardly daring to interrupt her. But, of course, he had. It
was a bit like staring at someone sitting in front of you at a lecture. Stare at them long
enough and eventually they will turn to find out what’s happening. It's inevitable, with
the only variable being how long they will take to turn around -- the latter dependent
only upon how interesting the lecture was to the person being stared at. Interesting
lecture; longer time.

Goonie had begun staring at Dawn when he entered the room, in large part to make sure
she didn't back up with her chair and finish him off for good. Then when she saw him, he
quickly offered her Gil's briefcase. Dawn took the offering from the thug's fully extended
arms, while he tried to keep the maximum distance between them. Then he left the
room, as quickly as a very loose decorum allowed. Dawn had become for Goonie a
person to be feared.

Dawn ignored Goonie’s fear meter being pegged, and quickly noted the combination
locks were in Gil's selected setting. She frowned as she realized Nathan had not even
bothered to lock the case after opening it and sorting through its contents. She then
opened the case. No letter. She went through each of the contents, through each small
pocket of the case. Still, no letter. 'Damn!' she thought. She was sure Gil hadn't
stamped it or mailed it. And yet it had seemed so important to him. 'But if it was
important,' she thought, 'why wasn't it in the briefcase? Or, if it had been there
originally, why had it been taken and then Nathan make no mention of it?'

Dawn closed her eyes, thinking intently. She had not seen the letter in the briefcase,
and thus its absence was not prima facie evidence of foul play. 'However,' she asked
herself, 'why urgently write a letter, wrap it for secure mailing, and then leave it in the
office. It makes no sense!'

Her struggle with the enigma quietly took second priority, as she realized Gil was
rousing. Her observation was then confirmed by the nurse, as the woman rose and
quickly left the room to get the doctor. Gil opened his eyes almost immediately, and
Dawn stood up in order to stare down directly at him. Whispering, her voice crisp and
distinct, she said, "Welcome back, Mr. Lenki. We've missed you."
Gil smiled, looking up at her. Then his eyes closed for a moment, before reopening.
Moving his head slightly to look directly at her, he swallowed several times before asking,
"You okay?"

Dawn's smile beamed delight. "I'm fine. The question is how are you feeling?"

"Could be better," he managed. "Massive headache."

Something told her they had precious few seconds left in private. She quietly said, her
tone giving the sense of urgency. "The letter you wrote before we left. It's not in the
briefcase."

Gil roused slightly, still drugged but managing to open his eyes. The mention of the
missing letter seemed at first to have no effect. Then, quietly he said, "The letter.
Important. Mustn't fall into the wrong hands. Don't..." With that, he took a deep
breath, and quietly lost consciousness.

The doctor took that moment to enter the room, followed by the third nurse. As he
began to check Gil's condition, Dawn turned away, wondering if the letter had already
fallen into the wrong hands. It seemed a likely possibility.
The Tower

Chapter Two

It was the man from before, the warrior clad, bearded soldier from her previous dream.
He was smiling. Smoke from burning debris and the aftermath of a great battle partially
obscured Dawn's vision of him. But then he approached her, coming into clearer focus.
His face was dirty and smeared with sweat and blood from the battle, his clothes torn
and bloodied. And yet he continued to smile, as if the battle had been good. Then a
bright, intense light seemed to appear within his body at the point of his heart. The light
grew, extending itself in all directions until it seemed to radiate from all parts of his
body. In the midst of it all, he continued to smile. Dawn was as fascinated by the smile
as the brilliant light.

Then the sound of a familiar laughter made her turn. Gil came into focus, his demeanor
and dress the same as the other man, as if both had been in the same battle. Gil was
also smiling, but then the smile faded away as his attention was diverted. Someone else,
someone of importance, at least to Gil, was arriving. Dawn knew instinctively it would be
Anna, dressed in her goddess/priestess attire of gold and lapis lazuli. But Dawn's focus
was more on Gil and his apparent appreciation of the other woman.

Dawn tried to look inside Gil, to discover his thoughts about Anna, to gauge the
connection between them. She felt nothing, but then saw a great, bloody wound on his
head. Then Gil turned, ready to leap from what appeared to be a great, ancient
structure. The Tower was in flames, and others had already begun to abandon it, in
many cases jumping to their deaths. Lightening bolts struck several of them even in the
midst of their fall from The Tower. (First written in 1997)

Dawn's reaction to the symbolism was one of a sudden indrawn breath and an intense
tightening of her heart. For several moments she was lost in the raw emotional impact.

"No real change," the voice said. Then, as if surprised by the lack of response, "Miss?
Did you hear me?" The last question brought Dawn out of her dream, and she raised her
head. She was still sitting in the chair by Gil's bed, where she had slept with her head
laying on his covers. The doctor had arrived, finished his cursory examination, and
relayed his findings to her. Now he waited for her answer. As she turned to him, her
face showing a lack of understanding, he repeated himself. "There's been no change."
When that didn't garner any clearer response from Dawn, he added, "Which is good.
He's still resting peacefully. But we will need to fly him to Seattle just as soon as the
weather clears."

"When will that be?" From Dawn's point of view the question was simple, and easily
within the purview of any self-anointed, omnipotent, omniscience medical doctor.

"I'll talk to Mr. Fox about it." With that, he turned and left the room -- apparently on his
way to consult a higher deity on the future weather patterns and flight schedules. Dawn
watched him leave, then turned back to Gil. For a moment she probed with her intuition,
applying her own form of examination. The response was minimal, but important. All
was at rest, at peace. It was not time for concern. No news was still good news.
Dawn opened her eyes again, somewhat relieved. Looking out the window, she saw it
was early morning, but with an overcast, misty atmosphere. The weather did not look all
that promising. She frowned, but then decided to take matters into her own hands. It
was time for her to talk to Nathan -- "Mr. Fox" -- to insist on moving Gil to Seattle
without further delay. Of course, it could never appear to be her "insisting" on anything.
Clearly Nathan was not the type of man any woman could insist on his doing anything.
But if Dawn could plant the seed of urgency, Nathan might respond -- assuming, of
course, that it was his idea from the beginning and that he was not simply taking advice
from a female of even higher rank. Dawn stood up, touched Gil's arm one last time, and
left the room. Grabbing a wrap, she walked outside.

On the porch of the bungalow, she pulled the shawl about her, reacting instinctively to
the misty dampness and chill of the morning. Dawn glanced about, taking in the lay of
the land, frowning at the overcast sky, and then began walking toward the main lodge.
But before she had taken more than a dozen steps, she noticed Anna walking in a
contrary direction off to her right. Dawn started to raise her hand and call out, to attract
her attention, when Anna seemed to turn toward her. But just as quickly, Anna turned
away, and disappeared behind a building.

Dawn again had the sudden flash of insight that Anna and Gil were important to each
other, that Anna might be carrying some ancient torch for Dawn's boss. As such Anna
might be Dawn's only ally at Lake Mach. It was a fundamental truth: Love makes
strange bedfellows.

Dawn ran after the other woman, only to reach the spot by the building where the latter
had already disappeared. But then, off the left, another glimpse of Anna's back as she
proceeded along another path, slipping quickly behind one of the bungalows. For a
moment, Dawn sensed Anna was well aware of her, but was giving no overt evidence of
such. Dawn ignored the nonsensical data, and continued to follow after the other
woman. From building to building, around a covey of trees, along manicured paths
among natural woodland settings, Dawn kept up her hurried pace -- amazed that Anna
was always just out of reach but close enough never to lose her pursuer. And while
Dawn occasionally broke into a run, Anna never seemed to break stride. Eventually,
Dawn settled into her own stride -- deciding in her mind that she would catch up with
Anna when it was time.

But then as she turned into an old world garden complete with massive hedges and stone
statuary, there was no sign of Anna. As if she had vanished. Dawn looked in every
direction, before continuing along her best guess of Anna's path. Ten feet later Dawn
heard voices, men's voices.

For no logical reason -- intuition always being superior to logic -- Dawn became very
quiet, more interested in identifying the voices and their message than in letting her
presence be known. Quickly and quietly she moved closer to the hedge, where she could
hear two men as they walked. Dawn took a parallel course, and quickly recognized the
voices of Nathan and the doctor.

At one point they seemed to stop, to become more intent on their conversation. Dawn
approached a small stone statue, where she gauged she would be able to hear best and
not be heard. As she did, she brushed the statue which promptly fell off its small
pedestal. Dawn caught the statue in one hand, preventing it from crashing onto the
stone walkway, and at the same time, caught the leaning pedestal in the other.
Balancing both, she then caught her breath as she picked up the first intelligible words.

"The question is," (the doctor's voice), "Do we bother?"

"And your prognosis if no action is taken?" Nathan's voice had a hard edge to it.
"He probably won't make it. He's obviously made of exceedingly sterner stuff, but the
head injury is enough to take out anyone." Then the doctor attempted to exceed his
station. "Of course, in that case, there would likely be no questions. We would have
done everything reasonable."

Nathan's response was immediate. "Forget such thinking! Gilbert Lenki is an asset. He
has information we need and he still has considerable value. Things are in too great a
state of confusion to simply allow the man to die. Entirely too risky," Nathan added, his
tone chastising and, at the same time, lined with a hint of concerns of his own. Yet
another hidden agenda.

Dawn could almost hear the doctor backtrack from his "unauthorized assumption of
authority." "Of course," he muttered. "I didn't mean to..."

Nathan hardly bothered with the doctor's attempted retraction. "There are factions
within the Patrons. And Lenki has many allies."

Dawn's immediate thought was that Nathan had said "allies", not "friends". Then she
noticed it had become very quiet. She tried to breathe, keep the stoneware balanced,
and make absolutely no sound. Obliquely, she wondered if Anna had led her to this spot
intentionally so she could overhear the conversation. But then Dawn dismissed the idea
as too unlikely. Dawn was more prone to attribute it to universal coincidence, the
carefully contrived juxtaposition of events to accomplish a higher purpose. The universe
had simply used Anna to accomplish its own purpose.

"Did you administer the injections?" Nathan's voice was cold and precise.

"One of the nurses did. And I personally checked the implants with the Locator. They..."

Nathan interrupted, raising his voice slightly. "Injections, Doctor! They're called
injections."

The doctor immediately shifted into his cowed-dog imitation, mumbling some apology.
Then he tried to change the subject. "What about the girl?"

Dawn reacted first to the doctor's contrite tone, gleeful at his being put down, and then
to the fact he had called her a "girl". But then, the precariousness of her position took
precedence.

"Her relationship to Mr. Lenki is not clear. She may or may not be his fiancé. And he
may or may not have some vested interest in her. Most females of her caliber are
inherently expendable, but one must never underestimate some men's attachment to
their property. If we took any cavalier action to eliminate her without just cause, Lenki
could be angered to no real advantage for us."

Dawn swallowed hard, realizing that Nathan was matter-of-factly discussing whether or
not to simply do away with her. Dawn's body froze. Beads of sweat involuntarily
appeared.

"Besides," Nathan continued, "My brief discussion with her suggests she is not entirely
without some value. With the right indoctrination, she could be useful later on."

'Keep thinking that,' Dawn thought, 'while I quietly steal away in the night!'

The doctor made some sound of acknowledgment, before Nathan stood up and stretched
his legs. Then, in his most genteel fashion, added, "It will be easy enough, should the
need arise, to dispose of her back in Seattle. Big cities are dangerous, and it solves any
difficulty of the law wanting access here."

The doctor was quick to agree. "I suppose since she is unaware of any danger, she won't
be taking precautions. That should make it simple enough."

Dawn could sense Nathan's smile. "Exactly. And it would be easy to use someone she
knows and with whom she feels comfortable to carry out the operation. Perhaps,
someone like yourself, doctor. I presume you've developed an excellent rapport with
her."

"Of course," the doctor lied.

Nathan's tone suggested he saw the doctor's lie. "Or, depending on circumstances, we
can always use someone else." Dawn could almost hear Nathan as he added in his mind,
'someone like Anna'. Dawn shuddered slightly, thinking of her. The "other" woman was
definitely an enigma.

Then the doctor voiced another concern. "There has been some scuttlebutt among the
staff that the airplane might have been sabotaged."

Dawn could feel Nathan's abrupt rage. Vehemently, in a low and controlled voice, he
said, "There is no basis whatsoever for such thinking! You will nip that rumor in the bud
immediately! There are, admittedly, some divisions in the thinking of our group -- but
they are not to be the stuff of gossip among the staff! Is that clear!?"

"Of course," the doctor quavered. "I only wanted to inform you..."

"Nip it in the bud, doctor!" With the doctor acknowledging his marching orders, Nathan
added more. "Begin making preparations to move Mr. Lenki. I want him alive and in the
aircraft bound for Seattle no later than 1600 hours this afternoon. Make sure the
medical records to that point justify the decision to transfer, just in case he does not
survive the trip. Do you understand?"

"Yes, of course," the doctor answered. "I'll get right on it."

Nathan had turned in the middle of the doctor's response and begun striding away in the
direction of the lodge. The doctor fumbled slightly in his movements, then followed
Nathan at a discrete distance -- not wanting to presume walking alongside Nathan, but at
the same time, heading in the same direction.

Dawn was still frozen in her place, but more from shock than fright. Slowly she began to
breathe again. Simultaneously, she started to right the pedestal and set the small statue
back on it. She hardly noticed that the statue was a small gargoyle -- a threatening and
ugly little thing designed to frighten away evil spirits -- nor that it had generously shared
the accumulated gunk from years of unattended service and in the process irretrievably
soiled her blouse, the one she had just put on in order to replace the maple syrup
decorated yellow blouse. But instead of mulling over her current rate of trashing
clothes, she was processing what she had just heard. It was time to draw on all of her
powers, all of her feminine talents, as well as all of her focusing and problem solving
abilities -- those characteristics traditionally identified as masculine but which she could
draw upon in moments of dire need. It was now a matter of life and death.


The process of preparing for the flight back to Seattle (and of course, changing her soiled
blouse for the one remaining, undamaged item) kept her busy. The shoes, the left heel
of which still carried her "implant", she continued to wear, despite their slightly muddied
condition. She knew there would be a specific time and opportunity to discard them.

Her preparations to leave also allowed her to avoid another encounter with Nathan, along
with the potential for additional inquisition-style casual conversations. The doctor was
amiable and cordial to her, but inasmuch as Dawn knew it was on Nathan's orders, she
did not buy into it. Instead, she smiled and seemed to accept his attentions. At the
same time, she marveled at the inability of most males to recognize that the sweet smile
on a woman's face carried a multitude of diverse and contradictory meanings. Men saw
and believed, and all a woman had to do was to project a pretty picture.

Admittedly, on the other side of the coin, women tended to hear and believe. Unless, of
course, it had been made abundantly clear to the woman that what the man was saying
was unquestionably a lie. And then women didn't believe a word. Sometimes. If they
were so disposed.

Anna had made an appearance in the bungalow to check on Gil, and inexplicably had
managed to time her visit when Dawn had been out of the room, gathering the last
remnants of luggage and personal effects. What had gone on between Gil and Anna,
Dawn had no idea. She had only seen Anna as she left the bungalow. They had crossed
paths in the living room area, but neither had said a word. Anna had smiled her most
enigmatic smile for Dawn, and Dawn, well aware of the duplicity of some women, had
known not to take it at face value. Dawn simply had no real idea of what the smile had
really meant. Only the activity of getting ready to leave allowed her to drop the subject
from her mind.



The flight back was uneventful, save the doctor's continuing attempts to ingratiate
himself with Dawn with words of concern, caring, and conniving. Upon arrival in Seattle,
and after passing on the current medical condition status to the resident physicians, the
doctor began making preparations to take the helicopter back to Lake Mach. But before
leaving, he had smiled compassionately at Dawn and spoken many words of comfort. He
had made sure her luggage was taken care of and would have held her purse for her,
had she not held onto it with a great more emphasis than she might normally have. Its
contents of the $200 in cash Gil had wanted her to keep with her, seemed to loom larger
and larger as an essential asset. Meanwhile, she accepted the doctor's alleged
thoughtfulness, making a mental note that if she were ever to see him again, she would
assume he was about to murder her.

Gil was being prepped for tests, when Dawn began to note a subtle shift in the energy
about her. Then she noticed its source; an unheralded increase in security. Several
goons of the Lake Mach persuasion -- which Dawn christened the Goonites, in order to
distinguish them from Mister Goon and the wounded Goonie from Lake Mach -- had taken
up station in key locations. Each of the Goonites seemed to be very aware of who she
was -- which was not a good sign -- but they kept their distance.

Even here, Dawn realized, she was not going to feel safe and secure. She had lived in
and loved Seattle for many years, but now, she suspected, it would never be the same.
She could never again use her favorite line that the way one could tell it was summer in
Seattle was the rain became warm. It was a minor death. Dawn could only wonder what
the inevitable rebirth would bring.

Gil was behind the closed doors of the operating room for several hours, while Dawn
waited outside. The Goonites kept their distance, keeping their subtle watch over the
proceedings. For several hours the vigil continued. It was then during a quiet moment,
after a long debate on which of the various snacks she was going to acquire, that she
managed to somehow cause the small vending machine to dump its entire contents into
the outgoing slot. Dawn accepted the sudden bounty as a good sign, selected several
more items which appealed to her and returned to her seat. Out of the corner of her
eye, she noticed each of the three Goonites manage to casually wander by the machine,
one at a time, and make their own selections of the freebies. Interestingly, Dawn never
caught one of them actually consuming their catch.

When one of the doctors came out to report on the proceedings, it took the physician
only a moment to recognize the person who was obviously the relative-friend-
acquaintance-concerned citizen, who was waiting on the results. "He's doing fine," he
said to Dawn. "He's resting comfortably for the moment, and we will be transferring him
to a room in a few minutes. You'll be able to see him shortly."

Dawn sensed a genuine concern by the physician, and smiled. "He's going to be okay?"

The man's smile waned slightly. "I won't kid you. It's very serious. And we've done
everything we can. Now it's time to see how he responds." Then seeing Dawn's look of
concern, he added, "We're encouraged by the way he came through the operation. He
seems to have extraordinary recuperative powers. We can be guardedly optimistic."
When Dawn thanked him, the doctor went back inside.

It was then one of the Goonites approached her. The man was massive. Dawn
suspected he could have made a bull elephant pull up and think twice about charging
him. He also had the quality of someone who had never imagined mercy as a desirable
human characteristic. The man's foreign sense made Dawn wonder if he would actually
be able to speak English. His command of the language turned out to be marginal. "Mr.
Lenki has a room. It is three three three on third floor. Extra bed if you want to rest."
He didn't add that they could keep track of her better if she stayed in the room.

Dawn looked at the man for several moments, relishing the moment of first contact
between alien species. Then she thanked him, turned and left the waiting area --
deciding to head for the room if only to check it out. Not totally unexpectedly, the
Goonite began following her at a discreet distance. Dawn had a momentary flush of
pride as she managed to take the elevator and close the doors before the Goonite joined
her. It seemed prudent to take the elevator to the third floor, and then take whatever
course presented itself -- just in case Mr. Goonite was paying attention to where she
exited the elevator.

But then, as she left the elevator on the third floor, she heard a distant familiar voice. It
was Anna's! Very surprised, Dawn turned to look down a short length of hall to the
Nurse's station, where Anna was making her august presence known to the nursing staff,
much to their chagrin.

As Dawn walked tentatively toward the nurse's station, she began to hear Anna more
clearly. The first complete sentence she picked up on was "The room is simply
inadequate!" This was followed by the senior nurse, who apparently had already
accepted Anna as the deity's representative on Earth, looking over her room assignments
and was scrambling to find something more "adequate". Another nurse tried to help.
"Four Twelve's available."

The senior nurse's expression turned to a tentative relief. "It's a private suite. It's our
best."

Anna became marginally gracious. "We'll take it. Make the arrangements." With that
she turned and walked down the hall. Dawn had been just behind her, when Anna had
turned and strode off. For that or some other reason, Anna had appeared to be unaware
of Dawn, and walked away without the slightest acknowledgment. Then, as she
approached the elevator, the doors opened and Dawn's own personal Goonite stepped
out. Anna immediately commandeered the man, and despite his protests -- which she
quickly brushed aside -- followed her into the elevator as the doors closed. Dawn stood
watching the entire process for several moments, including the now vacant hall. The
other nurse broke her chain of thought. "Can I help you?" Apparently, the senior nurse
was still recovered from Anna's onslaught.

Turning to the questioning smile of the younger woman, Dawn simply asked, "Where are
the stairs to the fourth floor?" As an afterthought, she added, "I hate elevators."

The young woman smiled and pointed in the opposite direction. "First passageway on
your left. You can't miss it."

Dawn thanked her and headed for the stairs. On the way to Suite 412, she began to
wonder about Anna and the room drama. 'Why was Anna so emotionally involved? What
exactly was there between her and Gil?' Dawn wondered. 'Had they been lovers at one
time? And what difference does the room assignment make!?' Dawn shook her head,
perplexed, as she climbed the stairs.

For the moment, she was free of Mr. Goonite, but it seemed inevitable that if Anna and
he were not already checking out the room, Anna would at least inform the Goonites
about the change in rooms. And yet, in Dawn's mind, there was the fleeting thought:
'the room change was the sort of thing that could cause confusion later.' And in
confusion -- or chaos -- there is opportunity. By the time she had arrived on the fourth
floor, Dawn had dismissed the idea as irrelevant.

She quickly found Suite 412, which turned out to be quite luxurious for a hospital room.
It also turned out to be unoccupied. Dawn went in, flipped on a small overhead light,
and took a seat on a plush couch -- the kind of couch easily adaptable for sleep and long
vigils. Then she simply relaxed and took several long breaths. The tension and
emotional strain was starting to get to her.

Within moments, Gil was brought into the room by the hospital attendants, along with a
variety of monitoring instruments which the nurse quickly hooked up to the local
equipment leads, allowing them to monitor him from the nurse's station. A doctor
oversaw the proceedings, ensured himself (and Dawn) everything was "A-Okay", and
then, as the orderlies and nurse left, he assumed the attitude of a strange
embarrassment. After a preemptory cough, he said, "We weren't able to obtain Mr.
Lenki's signature prior to his surgery. As his next of kin, perhaps you'd be so kind..."

Dawn almost laughed in his pathetic little face. The man was obviously perplexed and
small-boy pitiful. It was the latter that suggested she go easy with him. She also knew
she was not in any sense of the legal word, Gil's next-of-kin, and her signature was
worthless in that regard. But she decided to humor the poor administrator-physician.
She quietly took the clipboard and signed a fictitious name. At the same time, she
couldn't resist asking, "Is this part of the Hippocratic Oath? Getting signatures?"

The doctor saw the humor in her question and smiled shyly. "I suspect Hypocrites never
had to pay liability insurance premiums. Otherwise it would have been." Then with the
all-important permission slip in his grasp, he left. Dawn found herself alone in the room
with Gil. There was no sign of Anna and the Goonites. Gil and Dawn were alone.

Almost immediately, Gil opened his eyes. Dawn quickly leaned over, a broad smile on
her face. Recognizing her, he asked, very quietly, "Are we alone?"
"Yes."

"How is that?"

Dawn's smile faded slightly. "There is a woman from Lake Mach. Named Anna."

Gil showed no surprise; only understanding. "I know her."

"She's here at the hospital." When Gil seemed to accept the fact as perfectly natural,
Dawn continued. "She didn't like your room assignment, and demanded it be changed.
Apparently, your security guards haven't discovered where you are just yet."

Gil smiled in appreciation, and said, "Anna always had a way about her."

"It seems," Dawn added, "that we're alone because of her..." Dawn's voice trailed off, as
her mind swept again into the realm of what Anna was to Gil and vice versa. There was
suddenly so much about Gil Dawn did not know about. His past life before her, was
obviously a life with a past.

Gil, in the meantime, had been thinking and marshaling his reserves for the conversation
ahead. Then he began. "It was a mistake to go to Lake Mach. I really screwed up. But
I thought it would buy us some time. There's so much yet to do."

"It's okay," Dawn replied.

"Miss Riordan... Dawn," he began, tentatively, watching her, "I'm not going to make it."

Dawn's sudden intake of breathe, signaled her unwillingness to accept even the concept.

But Gil would not allow her to speak. "It's okay. I've already died once in the SQUID.
They brought be back around, or so they think. In truth, I just came back to say good-
bye."

Dawn's eyes were already filled with tears. "But you're going to be fine."

Gil's argument was carried entirely with his eyes and face. "Dawn. I've been to the
other side. It's glorious! They let me come back, but only to warn you. There are things
you have to do."

"No, they can't do this!" Dawn was adamant, even if she didn't know exactly who they
were.

"Dawn. You promised me!" The charge Gil placed on Dawn momentarily swayed her
from her uncompromising stand. "You promised me," he repeated, "that in extremis,
you would do exactly as I requested, pull the plug or whatever. It's come to that."

For several brief moments, Dawn held her objections, drawing on some internal
strength.

Gil took advantage of the brief respite. "We don't have much time. You must save
yourself. Anna can't help you." Dawn flinched at the idea Anna would want to help her
-- even at the request of Gil. But Gil seemed unaware of Dawn's response. "Anna's in
too deep. She can't take the chance, and I can't compromise her." Dawn could see that
Gil considered Anna an ally, but Dawn was considerably less certain that Anna might be
Dawn’s ally.
"In the office, there's a second wall safe, behind the pantry." Gil's voice wavered as he
felt the strain of a deeply parched throat. Dawn hurriedly gave him some water to
drink. Then, the water easing the immediate pain in his throat, he continued. "In the
second wall safe there is a dark brown briefcase. Take it, and run! Get out of town. Get
as far from Seattle as you can."

"But where...?"

"The letter I prepared, before I left... You have to deliver it." Gil took another deep
breath and locked his eyes on her. "It's extremely important."

Dawn drew on another deep level of strength. "What's the combination of the safe?"

Gil closed his eyes in momentary frustration at his oversight, and replied, "67, 31, 63."

Dawn repeated it several times in her mind, and then opened her eyes again.

Gil took the latter as a sign and said, "Miss Riordan. You have to trust me as never
before. You have to save yourself, and in the process, help to save the world. The
briefcase is all important. The trip to Lake Mach blew our schedule all to hell. Else we
could have done what was needed on the way to Mexico City and beyond. But now you
must do it! You're the only one I can trust. I'm passing the torch to you, Dawn. No one
else. Just you!"

The intensity of his words rang in her ears. She continued to look into his eyes, the
sheer power of his thoughts written there as well. Then, very quietly, she said, "I accept
the torch."

Gil smiled in relief. Then he said, "One other thing. In my freezer, there are four
packages of food marked 'C, O, D, August, eighty-eight'. There are four packages.
They're my gift to you. Take all four. Don't forget them. Think of them as severance
pay."

Dawn's expression turned to a bemused smile. "Four packages of frozen fish?"

Gil smiled as she recognized his mischievous best. "Just accept them with my gratitude."

The last words sobered her. "Of course." Then she reached over to embrace him. His
words caught her before she could complete the hug.

"Miss Riordan. You have to run now. Don't look back. Trust no one! Leave no paper
trail. You can't use your credit cards -- too easy to trace." For a moment, they were
quiet, as Dawn looked into his eyes for further instructions. "It's time for you to leave,
Dawn." Gil hesitated, allowing the significance of his statement to register in her mind.
Then he added, "Tell the nurses I'm resting comfortably. They can probably see that
from the monitors, but it will give you a chance to leave. Tell them you have to retrieve
something from the office. I'll hang on here as long as possible, giving you time to get
there and put as much distance behind you as possible."

"I don't want to leave you like this," Dawn replied in her 'I'm-not-going-to-discuss-this'
tone.

Gil grew serious. "We're in extremis, Dawn. Time is short. I don't know how long I can
hold on and cover for you. The dye is cast."

Dawn's tears were now beginning to flow. "I know that, but..."
"You promised to do exactly as I requested. I very badly need that last act of loyalty
right now. You can grieve later, when the time is right. You'll know when."

Dawn struggled for control, forcing herself to obey his last order.

"Time to go!" His order was the ultimate, no-nonsense good bye. Dawn did not even
consider ignoring it. She turned and went to the door. Opening it, she turned back
toward him for one last look. He watched her, his eyes carrying every ounce of clarity
and purpose of which he was capable. For perhaps fifteen seconds, they looked at each
other. Then she left, closing the door gently behind her. She stood there a few seconds
longer, pulling herself together and wiping the tears from her eyes. It was not yet time
to grieve.

Instead, she went to the nurse's station, told them he was resting comfortably. "I'm
going home to retrieve something for Mr. Lenki and to clean up. I'll be back within an
hour or so. If there is the slightest change in his condition, please call me at either of
these numbers." As she wrote them down, she added, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

After the nurse's gentle, smiling acknowledgment, Dawn turned and headed for the
stairs. She had barely rounded the corner, when she heard a commotion in the hall
behind her. She stopped where she was, knowing she was hidden by the corner wall.
Within seconds she recognized the raised voices as that of Anna and the Goonites. Anna
was chastising them for not being on duty, and they were protesting they had been
waiting at the wrong room. She made it clear that such incompetence was inexcusable.
The Goonites decided to admit defeat and accept whatever grace their superior might in
her infinite mercy bestow upon them. It's the old rule: Never bother to argue with the
boss -- especially one of Anna’s caliber.

Dawn could only shudder at the close call. Then she bolted for the stairwell door. Racing
down the stairs, she made it to the streets via a side door. Coming around the building,
she spotted a taxi driver who was just re-entering his vehicle after discharging a fare at
the hospital's main entrance. The driver saw her signaling him, and promptly drove to
pick her up. Once in the taxi and on her way to the office, she began to relax, only
vaguely aware of her good fortune in finding a taxi at 5:30 in the morning. 'Thank God
for the timely arrival of someone's baby,' she thought. Then as an afterthought,
'Someone is still looking after me." With that thought, and her head swimming with
countless other thoughts, she sank into the taxi's seat cushions as best she could. It was
a momentary respite.

Abruptly, a distant, deep voice from the front of the taxi quoted, "Be as a sheep among
wolves: Wise as a serpent, and gentle as a dove."

Startled, Dawn reacted instinctively and asked, "Excuse me?"

The driver looked in his mirror, not understanding her question. "Yeah lady? What' you
need?" The taxi driver had, apparently, not been the one speaking.

"Never mind," Dawn replied, as she again heard the words echoing in her mind. She had
no idea who had spoken, but she knew the advice was very appropriate.
Death

Chapter Three

As Dawn entered the small, four-story office building and began crossing the lobby area,
the building security guard, Jerry, stood up from his chair behind the reception console
and smiled. "Good morning, Ms. Riordan," he said. "You're in quite early."

"Good morning, Jerry. Just picking up some papers for Mr. Lenki."

"Of course. I'll activate the elevators." As Jerry flipped a switch, and looked back up, he
added, "Looks like you'll have the building all to yourself. At least for another hour or
so."

"I probably won't be here that long," she replied, as she pushed the elevator's up button.

By the time Dawn had stepped inside the elevator, the telephone in Gil's office had
already begun to ring. As she left the elevator on the fifth floor and began walking the
hallway, the office answering machine was recording an urgent message from the
hospital. But the message had finished and the answering machine had ceased making
its little noises, when Dawn inserted her key into the door lock. When she finally entered
the room, all was quiet and apparently normal.

Dawn went directly to the office's built-in kitchen, fairly rushing by her desk where the
answering machine was quietly flashing the fact of having recorded a message. In the
small kitchen area, she flung open the pantry door, and began shoving neatly stacked
cans and foodstuffs to one side. There did not appear to be anything at the back of the
pantry, until she pulled the two top shelves a few inches out from the wall. As the
shelves slid out, they revealed that the upper of the two shelves had hidden a hinge,
while the lower allowed the bottom edge of the wooden panel to remain in place and
undetectable without the shelf being moved. Dawn lifted the panel up to reveal a
relatively large wall safe just behind the back wall of the pantry. Relieved at having been
successful in the early stages of her quest, she began dialing the combination of the
safe. Her smile disappeared when it refused to open on her first attempt.

As Dawn looked at the combination lock, momentarily stymied, a black Mercedes pulled
up at the front of the office building. With little fanfare, three men got out at the
curbside, and began walking toward the main entrance. Dawn, meanwhile was dialing
the combination for the third time, when the safe finally cooperated by allowing itself to
be opened. With a minimal display of frustration, she flung open the safe door and found
the brown briefcase. Already on edge from the safe's obstinacy, she fairly yanked the
brown briefcase from its resting place. Naturally, in the process of pulling the briefcase
out of the safe and across the pantry shelf, she managed to wipe out the cans and
foodstuffs on either side, spilling everything onto the floor.

For a moment, she just looked at the mess. Quietly, but with great intensity, she said,
"Shit!" (It was part of her standard formality in such situations.) Then she set the
briefcase on the opposite counter next to where she had laid her purse, and began
removing the evidence of anyone having been in the room. She closed the safe (causing
the panel to fall back into place), lifted the panel back up, spun the combination to lock
the safe, let the panel down and shoved the shelves back into place. She then began
picking up the scattered tins and assorted items. Haphazardly, she stuffed them back
onto the shelf. Then she stepped back, critically eyeing everything. All the shelves were
neatly stacked, with the exception of Dawn's restocked one. She looked at it for a
moment, before she quickly began messing up all of the other shelves. Satisfied by the
new found commonality among pantry shelves, she closed the pantry door, turned and
grabbed the briefcase and her purse.

She had started for the front door, crossed by the area where the answering machine
was still blinking, when she stopped abruptly and turned around. As she searched her
mind for what she was forgetting, Jerry at the front desk was greeting the three men
crossing the lobby area. The three took notice of him, as one of them approached
directly, the kind of broad smile on his face which traditionally told everyone that he was
the meanest of the bad guys. Jerry inexplicably reached down and put his hand on the
silent alarm button.

Simultaneously, Dawn was remembering her oversight. Going immediately back to the
kitchen, she opened the freezer door and began searching for four packages marked
"CoD AuG 88". Partially unpacking the freezer and putting the white wrapped, frosted
packages on the adjacent counter, she obliquely noticed an uncommonly large number of
concentrated frozen grape juice containers. To herself, she mused, "Why all the frozen
grape juice, Gil? I've never even seen you drink grape juice." Then her submerged grief
momentarily hit her and she stopped. Quickly, she reasserted her will and kept at it.

Eventually she found the four packages, heavily frosted over and stuffed in the rear most
corner of the freezer. Taking them out, she put them onto the counter as well, and then
began restuffing the freezer. Several of the grape juice containers fell out onto the floor
and Dawn had to retrieve them. When she had finished throwing the frozen grape juice
containers back into the freezer, she slammed the door, and started to pick up the four
CoD packages. The inherent clumsiness of trying to carry four frozen, heavy packages,
along with her purse and the briefcase, caught her attention immediately and she looked
around. Without the slightest hesitation, she grabbed Gil's deep purple, expandable,
fishnet grocery bag from a wall hook, and threw the four, surprisingly heavy, frozen CoD
packages into it. Then turning to bolt out of the kitchen, she inadvertently kicked an
errant frozen concentrate grape juice cylinder, causing it to skid across the floor. With a
brief expletive ("Shit!"), she dropped down on all fours and went after the container.
Simultaneously, Jerry slumped to the floor, the silent alarm having sounded. With his
body hidden behind the reception desk, the three men then moved unimpeded to the
elevators.

Grabbing the last of the grape juice containers, and without thinking, Dawn added it to
her loot. She leaped back up, grabbed the brown briefcase, and headed for the front
door of the office. There she again stopped with her hand on the door knob, as she tried
to recall if there was anything else she had forgotten to do. The three men entered the
elevator and pushed the fourth floor button.

Dawn couldn't recall the nagging "don't forget to..." item, as the answering machine
continued to quietly blink its informative indication of having accumulated one or more
messages. Dawn shrugged her shoulders and went out the front door, letting it close and
lock itself behind her. She headed for the elevators, and quickly pushed the down
button. The elevator she had taken up to the fourth floor was still there, and she
entered. As its door closed, the doors of the adjacent elevator opened, and the three
men entered the hallway. With a slight hesitation to orient themselves to their location
relative to Gil's fourth floor office, they began moving down the hallway.
Dawn was crossing the lobby area (unable to see Jerry's body behind the reception
desk), by the time that one of the three men had begun to pick the lock on Gil's door. As
she exited the building and approached the empty street (the black Mercedes having
been dispatched for another job), the lock picker was finding himself having difficulty
getting the office door open. The man in charge of the three was slowly becoming
irritated at the delay. Controlled, but very irritated. By the time the office door was
finally opened, Dawn had crossed the street, entered the apartment complex directly
across from the office building, and approached the elevator to her fifth floor apartment.
One of the fringe benefits which she had particularly enjoyed about her job was the fact
her fifth floor apartment looked down on Gil's office and was immediately across the
street. It made her commute one of the shortest on record.

Inside her apartment, Dawn dropped her purse, the briefcase and the grocery bag on her
bed. She quickly grabbed a larger purse, this one with shoulder straps in the modern
backpack style, stuffed her smaller purse inside it, and threw it on the bed as well. Then
an overnight, carry-on bag, into which she began throwing essentials and cosmetics.
She then added some underwear, zipped it up, and threw it on the bed. It was then she
noticed her answering machine blinking.

Almost absently, she hit the message replay button and then went back to her closet to
retrieve a larger suitcase, her ear attuned to the messages. The first messages were
items from the previous day, and she had her suitcase partially down, her arms raised
over her head, when she noticed that she smelled ever so slightly odoriferous. She
frowned slightly, threw the bag on the bed, and went into the bathroom to turn on the
shower. Coming back into the room, she began unbuttoning her blouse

From habit, she went over to the window to draw the curtains. Her cleaning lady had a
fetish about leaving the curtains open on the windows; believing it was essential for
mental and physical health. From Dawn's point of view, however, peeping Toms were
not exactly unknown in Seattle, even in luxury apartments. It was then, out of a
recently acquired habit, Dawn glanced down and to the right toward Gil's office, and saw
the lights on. The sight completely mesmerized her attention and she stood shock still.
Then she reached back to turn out the light in her own apartment. Going back to the
window, she saw two or more men moving about in the office. At the same time, her
consciousness responded to the urgent message from the hospital: "...terribly sorry,
but it happened quite quickly. Please call immediately, and ask for Doctor Chiles,
extension 3368. Thank you."

Dawn stood still, shocked to the core, realizing that Death had just entered her life. She
wanted to collapse in total, stunned grief. But the specter of Death was apparently not
yet satiated. She was very much in danger herself. The men in Gil's office made that
fact abundantly clear.

She was still in two different stages of shock, when one of the men in the office moved to
the window and looked out. For a moment he looked toward Dawn's apartment house,
as if calculating which apartment might be hers. Dawn stepped away from the window,
turned and ran for the bathroom, turned off the shower, killed the light, and dashed back
into the bedroom. She tossed the large suitcase back into the floor of the closet, and
then grabbed her backpack purse, slung it over her head and shoulder, grabbed the
overnight bag, wrapped it around her body in the other direction, picked up the brown
briefcase in one hand, and latched onto the cloth straps of the purple grocery gag with its
heavy, frozen cargo in the other hand. Turning and beginning to run from the room,
Dawn managed to miraculously use the grocery bag as a sling and thereby smash the
base of the glass lamp which had been sitting unobtrusively on the dresser by the door.

Dawn stopped and looked at the mess, her mind working furiously. It didn't seem wise
to leave a broken lamp. Quickly, she swept the broken debris into a wastebasket at the
end of the dresser, grabbed the lamp, and yanked the cord from its socket. Fully loaded
with her purse slung across one shoulder, her overnight bag straps crossing her body in
the opposite direction, the brown briefcase and grocery sack in one hand and the broken
lamp in the other, she ran from the room. She could easily have been mistaken for a
heavily laden guerrilla, who also moonlighted as a business man and a small appliance
repair person.

At the front door of her living room, Dawn stopped abruptly as the doorbell sounded.
She froze in place, and then began to hear the sound of someone beginning to pick the
lock. Very quietly, she set the briefcase and lamp down, and looked around for a
weapon. Then looking at the expandable, cloth grocery bag filled with CoD in her hand,
she stepped back behind the door, ready to use it as a sling. The door opened and a
large man stepped into the darkened room. Dawn did a quick wind up and slammed the
man in the back of the head with the heavy frozen CoD. The man never saw it coming
and went down hard. Dawn watched the motionless body for a second, and when there
was no movement, she grabbed everything, including the useless lamp, stepped out of
the apartment and closed the door.

Outside, she turned back toward the elevators and began running. But as she was about
to push the down button, she heard intuitively the word, "Stairs!" The word caught her
attention by its tonal quality as much as by its content. It could have been said by Gil, or
a combination of Gil and a woman's voice. It was a chorus, and almost in harmony. But
the message hit home, nonetheless.

Dawn turned and ran for the stairs at the opposite end of the building. Opening the door
and juggling her carry-ons at the same time, she ducked into the stairwell, and began
running down six flights of stairs. At the basement level, she stopped just before
entering the indoor parking garage. Feeling a need to hesitate, she carefully looked
through the small four inch by four inch window. Inside the garage, she could see the
black Mercedes moving very slowly through the garage. Then it stopped directly in front
of Dawn's small pickup, and the driver got out and approached her car.

Dawn shuddered, and then headed up one flight of stairs. She was about to enter the
apartment house's lobby area, when she again hesitated. Looking back over her
shoulder, she noticed the apartment resident's entrance to the adjacent private health
club. Without another thought, she exited the stairwell through the "convenience door"
into the health club.

Within the health club itself, she began walking through the weight lifting section, picking
up more than one stare from the early morning, macho jocks, already into their
healthletics. She heard several stray comments, but the one about "lighten up"
reminded her of the broken lamp. Dawn quickly dumped the lamp into a too small trash
can -- causing it to turn over and spill its contents, including several partially filled drink
cups. Dawn continued on, essentially oblivious to the mess she had caused.

Instead, she transferred the grocery bag to her now free hand, and managed to wipe out
a medium sized plant by the front door on her way out. Somehow she had managed to
swing the CoD around the plant's trunk in the opposite direction of her movement, and
then pull the plant along with her. She immediately shook it free -- ripping leaves and
branches off the small tree. The female receptionist at the front door was stunned by the
confusion, but Dawn was out the door before the woman could say anything. As Dawn
exited, a taxi pulled up to disembark another of the early morning exercise nuts. Dawn
was into the cab, before the previous occupant had finished paying the fare. Then with
the money transaction completed, and the early morning jock gallantly closing the door
behind Dawn, the taxi driver turned to her for instructions. It took her a moment to
gather her wits. "The nearest auto teller," she said.
The taxi driver looked blank. Tentatively, he said, “There’s one on the corner of..."

"Fine," Dawn interrupted. "Take me there."

The driver, accustomed to even stranger requests, turned to face forward and put the
vehicle back into gear. As they pulled away from the curb, she could hear the
approaching sound of police sirens (Jerry's belated gesture having had its effect). Dawn
shuttered slightly. Her first instinct was that the police were already after her. Then she
dismissed the thought as paranoia. Closing her eyes, she tried to think, and at the same
time, not panic. Abruptly, another thought hit her.

"And then I'll want a drug store. One that's open this early."

Glancing in his rearview mirror, the taxi driver acknowledged, "Sure lady, whatever."

Dawn then looked down at the brown briefcase. She still had her purse and the
overnight bag slung across opposing shoulders, the grocery bag and briefcase in each
hand. Then she released the latter two, and unslung the overnight bag. Setting it at her
feet, she picked up the briefcase again and set it in her lap. At first she simply looked at
the latches and combination locks. The combination for both was set at "777", and Dawn
pushed the latch releases. They popped open, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Opening the briefcase, she immediately directed her attention to the topmost object: the
letter Gil had written just before their ultimately fatal excursion to Lake Mach. The
envelope was sealed -- just as she remembered -- and already addressed, something to
which she had not been privy before. In the flashing light of the early morning street
lights, still burning even as the first light of day was finding its way into the city streets,
Dawn could just make out the addressee: "Doctor Alexander Dukas, 20884 Redstone
Canyon, Fort Collins, Colorado." Neither the name nor the location carried any meaning
for her. But Colorado seemed far enough away from Seattle to make it very appealing.
She now knew where she was going. At least, somewhat so. She did, for example,
know where Colorado was located.

When they arrived at the Auto-teller, the taxi pulled up and waited while she took the
maximum allowable cash the ATM would relinquish. Then, a few blocks away, the man
again waited while Dawn rushed into an all-night drug store to gather together some
theatrical makeup and a black, long haired wig. She also noted another Auto-teller
within easy reach, and quickly maxed it out for cash. Back in the taxi, the driver asked,
"Where to now. Another Auto-teller?"

Having seen her in the store, gathering yet more cash, the driver was intrigued about the
strange lady displaying all the characteristics of a newly created criminal on the lam.
Still, he knew she at least had the money to pay the fare. She missed the humor of his
question and simply said, “Airport!”

The driver also took the terse reply to mean she was not a talker, and thereafter
studiously ignored the fact she was doing a minor transformation of her facial
appearance as he headed for the airport. But then as they approached the terminal, and
his fare seemed slightly more at ease -- having accomplished a minor league persona
change -- he asked, "Where are you heading?" She looked up at him, causing him to
modify his question (and justify it at the same time). "Which airline? I can save you a
few steps."

Dawn had had just enough time to consider how to answer the inevitable question.
"Chicago," she replied. "United."
'Still grumpy,' he thought. Then he turned back to the driving, thinking how he hated
early morning passengers. He had long since concluded they were by far the least civil.

As they began to approach the terminal, Dawn began to be very conscious of the other
cars around her and their faintly nefarious occupants. Everyone seemed vaguely
suspicious, as she recalled Gil's admonition not to trust anyone. Then it occurred to her
she was becoming paranoid. This idea disturbed her until she recalled Gil's opinion on
paranoia. Inasmuch as someone was really out to get her, it was not an illusion at all,
and thus she was not suffering from paranoia. Then she flinched as she realized the
solution to the problem of her becoming paranoid was worse than the original problem of
being paranoid. Illusions are generally less dangerous than well-armed thugs.

At the airport, her warrior persona was back in action. After paying her fare with her
Auto-teller cash, and in getting out of the taxi, the CoD sling caught the door's sagging
arm rest, and finished the job years of hard usage had begun. The arm rest came
completely off the door, crashing to the pavement and dumping a seldom emptied ash
tray onto the ground. Dawn had just enough life-based experiential training to ignore
the minor bedlam she had caused. She rolled her eyes in frustration, but continued to
walk straight ahead. She was not about to look back, even at the cry of mixed
astonishment and fury by the taxi driver. She knew he had been paid well enough, even
a better than usual tip. She also instinctively knew to just keep walking straight ahead.
After all, look what happened to Lot's wife when she looked back at the ill-fated Sodom
and Gomorrah. The universal rule is: Don't look back!

Once in the airport terminal, Dawn headed for the restrooms. Her first priority was to
check her quick persona change in a lighted mirror situation. On the way a souvenir
clothing store caught her attention and she decided a moderate change of clothing would
aid in the disguise. She ended up with a Seattle Seahawks sweatshirt from a clerk who
doubted any amount of clothing would help this woman with the painted, excessive
made-up face look all that much better. 'Of course,' he mused, 'she had a nice body.
Too bad she was going to cover it up with an oversized sweatshirt.'

Once in the restroom, Dawn took one look in the mirror and involuntarily stepped back.
It was really a little scary. She was surprised small children had not screamed as she
passed by, or asked their parents if it was Halloween yet. After a moment of staring in
fascination at an excessive make up horror, Dawn got down to business and began
repairing her face. The goal was not to have people remember a particularly ugly
woman, but rather to not notice her at all. Within ten minutes, she had toned it down to
the point where most people would not take a second glance at her. The sweatshirt hid
her figure and she felt confident she would attract very little attention. This constituted
something of a challenge in going against a lifetime of trying to make oneself look good
and instead proceeding in the opposite direction. But her experience of acting in the
local, semi-professional theater had served her well -- particularly the time she played
the part of Laura in The Glass Menagerie. Looking the part then had been a real
challenge for the make up coordinator. It takes real skill to hide a truly beautiful woman.

Using almost all of her cash from the Auto-tellers, she bought a ticket for Denver, having
decided Denver's was the closest airport to Fort Collins. She also sensed the ticket agent
did not seem to notice anything amiss in her appearance, and treated Dawn as he would
treat any other customer. Of course, the moment he heard Dawn's destination was
Denver, he did resort to a recently initiated practice among ticket agents and said, "I
assume you'll want to carry on your luggage."

Dawn said, "Yes. I'll be carrying everything." But then she became intrigued. "But
why..."
"You're going to Denver International," the agent casually noted, "the Twilight Zone of
Checked Luggage, where all checked luggage faces the shredders and the rippers of their
new baggage system."

"Of course," Dawn replied, recalling the Baggage Saga of Denver International Airport.

The agent smiled with a slight Seattle superiority complex, having been a long time fan
of the Seattle Seahawks and thus a long time foe of the Denver Broncos -- it was always
nice to feel superior to one's alter-ego's foes. He was still smiling, when Dawn paid him
cash for her tickets. When he looked surprised, Dawn smiled bleakly and said, "Credit
card's maxed out."

The ticket agent shrugged his shoulders, as he replied, "Aren't we all!" Then he gave
Dawn her tickets. Dawn looked at them, a slight sense of relief at having them in her
hands. But then she frowned as she noticed the seat assignment -- second class, a
middle seat. It had been a long time since Dawn had flown second class -- since starting
to work with Gil, she had gotten used to first class flights. But first class cost more, and
Dawn was now suddenly becoming more frugal. It's one thing to lay out cash in large
sums. It's quite another to hand over a piece of plastic or even a check. Giving away
green folding money has a strange effect on people. If you don't believe it, try paying
for everything in cash, or in the opposite direction, receiving all of your monthly income
in cash. The latter is quite an experience. Makes one feel positively wealthy.

The last minute purchase of the ticket at full price had also been a consideration.
Instead of any of a multitude of discounts, specials, and rate reductions available to
those who purchase airline tickets well ahead of time, Dawn was going to be allowed to
fulfill the airline's fondest dream of someone actually paying the mythical full price for a
ticket. Dawn's only recourse, considering her limited ATM funds, was to claim a death in
the family. This reduction in airfare was available only in second class, and Dawn had
taken on that karma as well.

With the Denver ticket in hand, she headed for a separate airline, and using her credit
card, purchased a first class ticket to Chicago. She figured her credit card purchase was
essentially free money (she was not expecting to pay it back anytime soon -- one minor
advantage of being on the run). She also smiled at the fact the Chicago flight was
scheduled to leave from a different concourse than the Denver flight, which would reduce
the possibility of inadvertently running into someone who might be looking for her at the
Chicago gate. The use of the credit card, of course, would be a diversion for anyone with
the power to collect information from the credit-card computer grid. With both sets of
tickets in hand, she headed for her Denver gate.



At Lake Mach, in a room referred to locally as the "War Room", a thin, wiry middle-aged
man set before a console, moderately alert to the information being displayed on the
computer screen. Suddenly, he sat upright, as two lines of the data screen were
highlighted. Touching a key, the man caused a printer to spring to life, printing out the
information. Then, with the printout in hand, he headed for a small, considerably more
luxurious portion of the room, where Nathan and his younger brother, Kurt, sat. Kurt
was in his typically ugly mood. In addition, there was a hint of antagonism between
them, but one layered with a pseudo-polite manner.

"Your quarry not only seems to have escaped your net, but to have taken out one of your
strong arms as well." Kurt seemed to enjoy the momentary one-upmanship.

But Nathan was unwilling to show any weakness. "Don't fret, dear younger brother.
We're still tracking her with the implant locator. And we already have men on the way to
where she is. Running like a scared rabbit will not save her." Nathan then looked up to
receive the computer printout from the thin man. Reading it, Nathan suddenly smiled at
Kurt and picked up a telephone.



Dawn was almost to her concourse when she stopped abruptly, her mind yelling for her
attention. After a moment of listening to her intuition, she headed for the Chicago gate.
Cautiously approaching the gate, she began checking it out from a distance. No one was
in the immediate area yet, but the aircraft was already parked at the gate. She moved
closer to the gate, looking for an opportunity to present itself.

Within only a few minutes, she saw a copilot or navigator wheeling his carry on bag and
heading for the gateway entrance. She casually closed the distance to the gate, as he
began punching out the combination to the door lock. Opening the door and without
looking back, he went through and headed for the airplane. Dawn dashed for the door,
catching it just before it locked itself shut, slipped in and let the door close itself with a
clank -- a clank she knew the man would be expecting.

She then walked down the gateway brazenly. Seeing no one near the aircraft's entrance,
she took off both shoes and without actually stepping into the plane, tossed the shoes
into the space underneath the first class front row seats. Her mission accomplished, she
then ran back for the door. Once back into the concourse and apparently unobserved,
she stopped at the first moderately private area, found her only other pair of shoes
(tennies), and put them on. Then she headed once again for the Denver gate.

Once there, she shrunk back and kept an eye on the Denver flight boarding area from a
distance. At the last moment, when the lines waiting to board the outward bound
aircraft had all but disappeared, she made her way across the open area, and boarded
the airplane. The gate attendant took no special notice of the last person to check in,
and Dawn went aboard without incident. The stewardesses were already moving back
into the cabin, and also didn't notice Dawn. The fugitive, on the other hand, took
particular notice of the attention the stewardesses were bestowing upon the first class
passengers. Grimacing, Dawn worked her way back to the second class cabin.

Finding her seat, she involuntarily flinched when she realized her predicament. An
excessively overweight man sat in the aisle seat. As the first hurdle, he was particularly
unhappy to see her. He immediately made it clear he had already decided he was going
to enjoy the thus-far empty middle seat -- where he had lifted up the intervening arm
rest and shed some of his bulk onto what amounted to one and a half seats. He also was
forced to get up in order to allow Dawn into her seat. To ensure Dawn would be amply
aware of his displeasure, he made several comments about people arriving late. (The
fact he had made it a point to be the first person on the plane -- thus ensuring he would
be forced to move to let one or two people into their seats -- was not included in his
comments.) Dawn ignored the scene the fat man was making on all counts and began
the process of finding space for her carry-ons.

Being a flight to Denver, the amount of carry-on luggage had effectively doubled, and it
required Dawn to crush her overnight bag into an already filled overhead bin, and then
wedge the briefcase, her purse, and CoD bag under the seat in front of her. The latter
also required the huge monolith sitting on the aisle to move one of his packages and find
new storage for it as well. Dawn was not making friends with the neighbor to her
immediate right. Finally, she managed to take her seat. In the process and with a bit
more emphasis than necessary, she brought the intervening arm rest down, attempting
to establish her territory and to keep the fat man and his bulk at bay. He frowned
heavily, but said nothing.
Then Dawn noticed a very nervous, frail and very old woman in the window seat.
Suspecting the woman was scared shitless of flying, Dawn took pity on her. But only for
a moment.

"First flight?"

The woman smiled slightly, her eighty some odd years of etiquette training in greeting
strangers shifting into gear. "No, no. I'm always flying somewhere. Just don't like it."
Dawn smiled, thinking she could offer some reassurance. But the old woman was on a
roll. "It's disgusting, but you can't get anywhere without taking the plane. I can't
imagine my trip to India last year, if I hadn't been able to fly! It would have been
torture! Bad enough to have to put up with all those foreigners begging for money,
without having to travel overland or taking a ship, God forbid."

Dawn was surprised in a perplexing sort of way. "Really?"

"And now," the woman continued, "my grand niece gets married, and I have to fly all the
way from Dallas to Vancouver just to attend. It will be good to get home."

Dawn, trying to be in the conversation, said, "You and your grand niece must be very
close."

"I've always had a partiality to my niece. So naturally, I wouldn't want to miss her eldest
daughter's wedding. It's just that I don't understand why she has to live so far away! I
mean, why Vancouver? The flight from Seattle to Vancouver is almost as much as the
flight from Dallas to Seattle. It's terrible! All these kids moving away from their
families! What's the world coming to?"

Dawn decided to decline to answer the last, heavily loaded question. This was one
woman, Dawn was beginning to see, who most anyone would want to move away from.
Far, far away.

The old woman was undaunted by Dawn's lack of response. "The world is flat going to
hell in a hand basket. For one thing, there's no respect for age. If it wasn't for the
AARP, we'd be getting nothing! Everyone is out to get whatever they can, with no
respect for those who've earned it. My husband worked hard for a lifetime, but do I get
any respect? Of course not." Hardly taking a breath, she pushed on. "You certainly
can't trust the government anymore. Those damn Democrats want to give it all away in
welfare programs for the lazy, unwed mothers. Things like Head Start are a complete
waste. That's why I give generously to the Republican candidates. At least they make
sure my Social Security checks get to me on time!"

Suddenly, the airplane moved, being pushed out from the gate. The old woman grabbed
the arm rests, and said, "Oh, shit!" Then she braced herself in her typical white knuckle
fashion.

Dawn looked at her for a moment in astonishment. Then she turned to the fat man, who
was reading a newspaper and breathing heavily -- a simple act of maintenance in
servicing his bulk. For a moment Dawn just set there, between the fruitcake and the
blob. Silently, she vowed with all of her will, never to fly second class again! Upon pain
of imminent death, it would always be first class, or she would take her chances in the
baggage compartment. Even if it meant being subjected to Denver International
Airport's baggage handling labyrinth! Dawn closed her eyes and decided to try to go out
of body for the next several hours. She failed, but the attempt tended to ease her
anxiety.
She was, for example, blissfully unaware of three men racing down the concourse,
determined to intercept a flight scheduled to leave for Chicago.
The Hanged Man

Chapter Four

Denver International Airport was a different sort of adventure. Her first introduction to
DIA (affectionately known as "Delayed Indefinitely Airport", and other such choice
derogatory nicknames) was Gate B55. As she exited, she encountered one the widest,
most expansive concourses she had ever seen. Moving sidewalks some four or five feet
wide, rolled by in either direction, while a floor to ceiling glass wall afforded a view of
smaller buildings in the distance. Dawn found herself near the end of the concourse, and
began to calculate how far gate 55 would be from the terminal. It seemed a very long
way.

Her overnight bag strapped across one shoulder, her shoulder purse across the other, the
briefcase in one hand and the purple expandable bag in the other, she turned to her right
and began the trek. The first sign she noticed was one labeled "Red Carpet Club East".
Somehow, Dawn suspected, in her current attire and makeup, she would not be readily
welcomed in such V. I. P. surroundings. She shrugged off the idea and headed for what
she hoped would be an entry onto the moving sidewalk. The trouble with carry-on
luggage is you have to carry it off as well. It was then she noticed an eye-catching
advertisement which claimed that one out of every three people get cancer. "How
cheery," she said quietly.

Then just as she passed under a full sized biplane (with a large 65 painted on it), she
found the moving sidewalk and once on it, leaned again the moving rail to take a rest --
after that flight she needed it. It also gave her a chance to observe the surroundings.
There were numerous, nicely appointed shops and restaurants/lounges all along the
concourse, a view to the right of another concourse at a considerable distance from hers
with the intervening space filled with airplanes; a view to the left of what she assumed
was a collection of light-colored, multi-topped circus tents, and overhead, large posters
of two to three smiling people hanging from the ceiling claiming that "We don't just work
here." Briefly, she wondered exactly what they did do here. There certainly weren't a lot
of people working along the concourse.

Overhead was a series of high ceilings, formed into squares and with walkways on either
side. There was even a green balloon hugging one of the high ceilings -- and probably a
small child somewhere very upset by this fact. Coming off the moving sidewalk, she
noticed a sudden increase in shops -- some of which had the appearance of California
elite, be-sure-you-have-money-before-going-in shops. On the marble-like floor, there
were brass designs of dinosaurs, figurines and an occasional brief phrase. One phrase
managed to catch her attention in particular. Embedded in a charcoal colored marble
were the words, "TSE YE GO, AN YEH, DAA NYOT." Dawn guessed it was either a
profound esoteric philosophy, or the names of three Orientals who wanted their names
"carved" in stone so to speak. She couldn't be sure.

Then a really nice feature: a women's rest room.

Back on the next moving sidewalk, moving her ever closer, hopefully, to something
called a terminal, Dawn noted they were now passing gate B41. 'Slow progress, but at
least progress,' she thought. Then her goal of wanting to reach a terminal caught her
attention. The name had a strange sense of finality to it. But she ignored the idea, and
read a sign advertising "Red Carpet Club West."

Before she had time to think about the latter, she came to a central area between gates
B38 and B37, which was positively festooned with exclusive and well appointed shops.
There was The Nature Company, Susan Vale Sweaters, a shop devoted exclusively to
ties, and a variety of places to eat. There was also a tourist information booth -- with a
sign telling everyone to see the information booth in the main terminal. This assumed,
of course, that one knew how to find the main terminal.

The ceiling, meanwhile, rose even higher, constructed of white painted, square metal
beams and cross bracing. In the middle of the area was a multicolored, double arc
sculpture -- which might have had some functional use, but probably didn't. Dawn was
across the bridge flanked by the sculpture, taking it all in like the traditional tourist, when
she noticed she had almost passed the escalators with signs suggesting the most direct
route to the terminal. Getting her mind back on track, she then began her descent to the
lower bowels of the concourse. It was then she noticed the two men walking together,
but otherwise not speaking or taking notice of each other. Had she not taken the slight
detour across the bridge-like structure and then had to double back slightly, she might
have missed seeing them.

Almost breaking into a run, without appearing to do so, she quickly descended two flights
of escalators, no longer stopping to rest. Then as she entered a large, wide area, she
noticed several travelers scurrying to get onto a train -- which theoretically would take
them to the terminal. Dawn joined the rush, only to enter the train at the last moment,
and hear a stern but otherwise pleasant voice announce, "The doors are closing; please
do not block the doors."

From Dawn's viewpoint, the quick entry into the train was perfect timing -- anyone
following her would miss the train. With that cheering thought, Dawn sat down on the
small luggage platform at the back of the train and pretended she had no idea who had
just incurred the wrath of the train voice. It also gave her a view of anyone running to
the train. For the moment, there was no one. But there was, she puzzled, a lot of
people still standing in the waiting area. 'Was there more than one train,' she wondered?

Then as the train began to move, everyone being kept informed by the train voice and
messages flashing above the doors, Dawn realized she was on her way to terminal C.
Wrong way. She shook her head, deciding that, 'surely they would not send the train in
one direction, never to be heard from again. Surely, it would make a round trip at some
point.' Dawn decided to place her fate in the hands of... Well, Fate. 'But would the men
be waiting for her?' Dawn swallowed, trying to digest the thought.

As the train accelerated quite rapidly, Dawn checked out her surroundings, looking for
escape routes. For starters the train was in a square shaped, concrete tunnel, the kind
one doesn't easily exit without the aid of a Patton Tank, or well-supplied demolition
team. There was a center rail on which the train rode, along with raised concrete strips
for the train wheels (supposedly rubber tires). There was a ledge or an emergency
walkway on the right hand side, some four to six feet above the floor of the tunnel and at
the same level as the floor of the train. Of course, if you weren't at the level of the train
when you found your way to the emergency exit, it would probably be next to impossible
to crawl up onto the walkway. But then there was something else. On one side of the
tunnel were hundreds of pinwheels, sticking out of the wall, and going slightly crazy as
the train whizzed by. It was really kind of weird. But the sight managed to take Dawn's
attention off her paranoia.
At concourse C, everyone exited the train, except for Dawn, who had decided to rely on
the round trip theory. Then the train proceeded further in the same direction, where it
took a sharp turn to the left and then back to the right and then stopped at what Dawn
could now see was the end of the line. Then it just set there. For what seemed a much
longer time than necessary. Dawn could not escape the idea the train was now being
taken out of service and she would be trapped like the folk song hero on the MTA in
Boston -- forced to never return for lack of the correct exit token. Finally a light in the
tunnel changed from red to green and the train began moving in the opposite direction,
toward concourse C. Whew!

The rest of the trip was a piece of cake. There were strange little flat metal, hand and
axe-shaped figurines along one wall at varying angles, crossed metal girders -- obviously
intended as decorative and with no functional quality, and several colored metal-like
vertical strips arranged in designs on the ceiling and walls and which resembled
everything from a hand reaching out to a dragon/serpent-like design. Dawn could not
help but be reminded of Disneyland rides -- except the train tunnel decor was
considerably less creative. But it was a nice touch, she decided.

Of course, the ugly hanging sculptures of paper airplanes near the escalators at train's
end were not so nice. Fortunately, the arrival in the main terminal tended to make up
for them.

When Dawn walked out onto the main floor, a desert plant scene was situated before
her. The attraction included a large space of gravel and small rock, cactus of every form
and shape, and southwest leafy plants and pinecone-like trunks. The ceiling, meanwhile,
extended up to form large ridges of translucent canopies, all extending up into open
peaks. There was the sense of circus tents and scaffolding, but the airport design came
across much nicer. It was really quite impressive. At the same time, Dawn could not
resist the temptation to say aloud, "This airport is really intense."

Suddenly realizing her appearance and gawking might attract attention, she glanced
around and tried to appear normal. She made a quick survey of the people around her,
but saw no one that was particularly menacing. Or for that matter, normal. She then
made her way to the main terminal's transportation information booth, where a rather
nice, approaching-middle-aged woman greeted her. Dawn had already decided to stay in
downtown Denver for the night before setting out on the trek for Fort Collins. She badly
needed rest -- particularly before showing up on some stranger's doorstep and asking for
asylum. There was also the fact one could hide in a big city easier than in a smaller
town, and a diversion into Denver might be a great deal more prudent.

Dawn first asked about taxis, only to learn fares to downtown Denver ran about $40.
The helpful woman, seeing Dawn mentally calculate that she could not afford a taxi,
suggested a shuttle van at $15, or a city bus at $6. Then the lady added, "The vans are
quite a bit nicer than the buses."

Dawn smiled at the advice, and asked, "Are there any cheap, clean places to stay in
Denver?"

The woman looked at Dawn with a practiced eye. "The YWCA is on 16th Avenue
downtown, and it a great deal more inexpensive than any of the hotels. Just tell the van
driver."

Dawn hesitated for just a second. "Thanks," she said, and then headed for the exit. She
smiled as she thought, 'And the YWCA is probably okay with taking cash instead of a
credit card!'
Walking out of the terminal through the much heralded baggage claim area complete
with a huge oversize luggage section (obviously for the ski-packing trade) Dawn found a
city van and hopped aboard.

One of the things that is most impressive about Denver International Airport is the huge
acreage surrounding it and the fact it is some 25 miles from downtown Denver.
Accordingly, it is in the middle of the State of Colorado's version of nowhere. As the van
pulled out, Dawn could not help but stare at the treeless grassy plains stretching out
before her. The tent-like structure of the main terminal seemed like something out of
"1001 Russian Nights" -- but where the lone temple-like structure was set amidst a
tundra of green and brown grass instead of white snow and ice.

Marveling at the isolation of the airport, she caught the attention of the man sitting
beside her. Very politely, he asked, "First time through DIA?"

"Yes," she replied. "But why do they call it Denver's airport? It's so far from Denver."

The man laughed. Then, as if considering her implied suggestion, "I suppose they could
have more appropriately called it Colorado International Airport. But then having an
airport known as "CIA" might not be exactly what the Public Relations people would have
wanted."

Dawn could not help but smile herself. "You're probably right. But it's still quite a
place."

The man frowned slightly. "It also comes with quite a price tag. It was supposed to
have cost $1.7 billion, but came in at an actual cost of almost $10 billion. And the man
responsible for what I figure is one of the biggest frauds in the history of politics, gets
the brand new boulevard to the airport named for him." The man's disgust showed
through for a moment. Then he eased up slightly. "Pena then became Secretary of
Transportation. It was the only way Denver could think of to get rid of him, and quit
costing us so much money. Foist him off on the rest of the country."

Dawn smiled, but with less enthusiasm. She wasn't interested in encouraging the man,
and after a few choice words about "Federico's Folly" and "Pena's Plane Stupidity", he
seemed to get the hint and return to his newspaper. Dawn settled down, her energy
seriously waning, to ride out the overland stage to the far distant horizon, to a mile-high
city snuggled up against white capped peaks.

When they finally arrived in downtown Denver, she was one of the first people dropped
off. Several people gave her a curious look -- most people who flew the friendly skies did
not stay at the YWCA. But Dawn tried to carry herself with a certain grace, and almost
managed to pull it off.

Once out of the van, luggage and all, she looked up at the edifice before her. As she did
so, she could not help but think about the song, "YMCA". Of course, she was standing
before the YWCA, but the implication of strangeness was still there. Then she
remembered reality. This was a place for those with very limited funds. And Dawn could
not risk another ATM, particularly in her present location and after having gone to the
trouble of diverting the immediate attention of any stalkers to Chicago. This was also a
place where one did not have to use any identification to get a room. Pay the money in
cash, and they give you a key. This became very apparent when she approached the
desk clerk to ask for a room.

The lady behind the desk looked up at the woman approaching her and who was wearing
a wig, sweatshirt and more makeup than generally allowed on Halloween, and made an
immediate assessment: A lone woman with hand luggage, arriving before noon and
looking like hell, is in trouble. The lady produced a somewhat bored smile, but asked
nicely enough. "Looking for just a single?" When Dawn nodded yes, she added, "No
men allowed in rooms."

Dawn laughed slightly. "That's not even a remote possibility."

The woman looked a bit closer. "You okay?"

"Yes, thank you."

The woman didn't immediately buy Dawn's answer. "You know, a lot of battered wives
and girl friends come here. We don't ask a lot of questions, and it's hard for the abusers
to track them here. We also have security close by."

Dawn smiled slightly, and replied, "That's good."

"And we also have a real good group here if you need to talk. Anytime. Day or night."

"Thanks," Dawn answered. "But I just need some privacy."

"That you can get. But if you change your mind..."

Dawn could easily have played the battered woman part. The odds of being battered
were high enough for anyone to believe it of most anyone else. Combined with the
implied anonymity and minimal cost of staying at the YWCA, Dawn decided this was her
best chance at finding a safe haven. It also reduced the suspicion that might arise from
her arriving just before noon and going directly to her room to sleep. Meanwhile, the
woman slipped a pamphlet on battered women and relevant meetings at the YWCA in
Dawn's room receipt as she handed her the key.

Dawn's room turned out to be, not only at a considerable distance in space and time
from a first class hotel, but also some distance from an adequate second class hotel.
While it was moderately clean, it lacked such amenities as a private bathroom --
confining itself to a small lavatory, whose age could not be erased by any amount of
cleaning. The bed, meanwhile, had all the appeal of a turn-of-the-last-century hospital
bed with rounded metal frames and military-reject bedspreads. The single other piece of
furniture was a rustic dresser with cardboard being used liberally on the interior of the
drawers. Dawn stood in the doorway, the key in her hand, surveying the scene. Then
she entered, closed and locked the door, threw the more recently installed dead bolt,
slipped the security chain on its slide, and then slowly shed all of her luggage and carry-
ons.

For a brief moment, she recalled Gil's clearly stated distaste for the much talked about
"cashless society". Any government, according to Gil, which could control the criminal
class by having easily accessible records to any and all financial transactions, could also
control every non-criminal class. The use of credit cards in the overwhelming majority of
transactions could allow instantaneous information on where someone was and what they
were doing. The implications of such an elimination of privacy had infuriated Gil, and
Dawn was now experiencing his worst nightmares. She would have to have money, and
her only means would be via her credit cards. She would have to risk it. But now was
not the time. She needed sleep. Then perhaps, she could risk acquiring some more
money.

Her thoughts about Gil had an abrupt effect. All of her bottled emotions from the last
hours welled up and out of her, and she began weeping uncontrollably. Collapsing onto
the bed, she cried out, felt all of the pain, and finally began the intense grieving process.
For several hours she cried, until finally, she managed to fall into a fitful sleep.

And later in the midst of her sleep, she dreamed.

The dream began with the sounds and misty sights of a wedding reception. Hers, Dawn
decided. To one side, stood Gil, dressed formally and looking very much like the best
man. He was talking to a woman. Anna! Who was dressed in a priestly garb, as if she
were the first female priest of the Catholic Church. Dawn wondered if the wedding was
legitimate -- Anna seemed so much the outcast, the rebel. Then a movement in the
periphery of her vision caused her to turn.

Abruptly, she saw someone who looked like Gil, hanging by his left foot from a tree
branch, his right leg crossed behind the other. His hands appeared to be tied together in
a prayer mode, his hair streamed down toward the ground. Behind The Hanged Man
stood the apparent bridegroom, a few feet away, but now approaching her. Dawn
recognized the man immediately as the warrior from her previous dream of the ziggurat.
A premonition of being overpowered touched her as the man seemed intent upon
consummating their wedding then and there, to inseminate his bride before she could
change her mind. Dawn felt a slight panic, but was then distracted by a strange and
intense light behind the man's eyes, shining from below his eyeballs, and then out and
down from his eyes in the direction of her waist. Mesmerized by the light, Dawn looked
closer, until she saw tears in his eyes. Stranger still, the tears seemed to have a milky
white color. Inexplicably, Dawn thought of the color of a man's semen. But then the
bridegroom smiled, and Dawn felt strangely comforted.

It was then Dawn realized she still held the bridal bouquet in her hands. With no thought
other than to complete the ritual, she tossed the bouquet over her shoulder. Then she
saw it hit another man in the face. When the bouquet fell to the floor, she recognized a
very amazed and stunned Nathan. The shock on his face made her laugh. Then it faded,
as she fell into a deep sleep.



Nathan was indeed amazed, but the man before him could take little comfort from the
phenomena. Goonie had his own worries, having been the bearer of bad news more than
once in the last few hours. It was not a part for which he continually sought.

Nathan's voice was low and threatening. "What do you mean she wasn't on the flight!?

"Duke said they checked everyone as they deboarded," Goonie replied, his mouth dry.
"They also talked to a stewardess who claimed they had been one passenger short at
takeoff."

Nathan looked at the man, nervously standing before him. "Gilbert Lenki dies, and the
morons in Seattle neglect to immediately establish a stakeout at the airport! Even after
the beacon locator begins to announce the fact! Then this woman uses a credit card in
broad daylight to buy a ticket to Chicago, and they manage to miss the outbound
Chicago flight, such that she gets out of Seattle unhindered! And now!" Nathan's voice
raised slightly, before he reestablished control of it. "You're telling me, despite the clear
signal of her location, she wasn't even on the Chicago flight?"

"Yes sir," Goonie managed to reply.

"And why do you suppose that was?"

Goonie tried to make it sound casual. "The Chicago flight was a diversion?"

"Of course, you nitwit! It didn't occur to anyone she would use her credit card to divert
us to Chicago and then head elsewhere?"

"But how did she get the implant out and put it in her shoes?"

Nathan made a mental note to ask the doctor the same question -- perhaps just prior to
his untimely drowning. "I don't know, but I'm going to find out." Nathan's voice was
blistering in its intensity. "It seems as if Mister Michaels, the man upon whom we have
relied to monitor the woman's movements, has greatly underestimated her. We will not
make that mistake again. She is to be tracked down, detained, questioned, completely
debriefed, and then, when I am satisfied she is of no further possible use, she will be
terminated. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir!" Goonie's confidence returned inasmuch as he felt comfortable with

termination. There were no subtleties involved with death -- it was always very clear
and straight forward. Shoot them. They fall down dead. That's it. Simple.

Nathan then added, "We will also use our best people on this! Now, see to it!"

As Goonie shuttled out of the room, Nathan remained in his chair, still fuming. He felt on
one level the challenge, the glove this woman had thrown in his face. She was actually
attempting to outwit Nathan Fox! But then, at a more important level, he wondered
aloud, "Perhaps, Miss Dawn whatever-your-name-is, you represent a greater danger to
our plans than I had given you credit for. Suffice it to say, such potential disruption will
not be tolerated. There is now no one to save you or to deter me from having my way
with you." Nathan's frown turned slowly into a deadly smile.

"The party's over, baby!"

Temperance

Chapter Five

In the early morning hours, after an afternoon of crying, restless tossing and turning,
and an evening of dreams intermixed with grieving, Dawn slept some of the deepest,
soundest hours she had ever experienced. Total physical exhaustion combined with the
conflicting feelings of grief and relief had resulted in a massive sleep in. The last three
days had been entirely too intense.

Sometime in those early morning hours, she had wormed her way into the covers, pulling
on them from every which way, until the early morning Colorado sun found her wrapped
and twisted in the sheets, her wig askew and her theatrical make up smeared all over the
bed coverings. When she opened her eyes, her first sense was one of being profoundly
perplexed. Everything was out of place, her body in the grasp of some weird and strange
python, the sounds and smells of the space totally foreign. Then she attempted to raise
herself up, only to fall back, her arms caught in the sheets and unavailable to support
her. Bewildered by it all, she struggled to free herself, and eventually managed to sit
upright on the bed, her feet dangling off the side, only one of them still draped with the
twisted sheets.

For a few moments the grief returned. But now it was strangely muted, as if it had been
spent the night before, and now could only be a faint reminder. Dawn thought about
crying, but sensed there were no more tears; or at least, none of the stuff from which
tears were made. Something within her told her it was time to recover her spirits after
the emotionally-draining night. It was also time to get up. 'Off and on,' she thought, 'off
your butt and on your feet!' With little enthusiasm, she obeyed.

Her first surprise was that she could stand. Her second was when she glanced into the
dresser's small, fading mirror. The latter turned out to be more of a shock. Her eyes
blood red and splotched from hours of crying, the theatrical makeup smeared and
streaked, the black wig hanging at a haggard angle, her natural hair mixed with tears
and smeared with makeup to resemble an old mop retired from use ten years prior, and
the whole picture, an example for horror film producers to emulate. Slowly the shock
turned to amazement as Dawn saw for the first time just how horrible she could look.
Then an even more amazing thought occurred to her: She could probably repair the
damage, she had the skill, she had the technology! It was same sort of resolve wherein
one could build a bionic woman!

Turning, she found her purse, overnight bag, briefcase, and the purple grocery bag
where she had dropped them by the door. She picked up the briefcase and set it on the
bed, throwing the twisted, soiled covers over the footboard. She then tossed her purse
and the grocery bag on the bed as well, noting parenthetically that the CoD had
defrosted, but apparently did not stink. Yet. Then she picked up the overnight bag, and
began to empty it of the essential tools of her trade onto the bed. It was time for an all-
out assault on her appearance.
Rushing in where fools feared to go, she headed for the common showers (which were
almost deserted) and cleaned the accumulated grime of three days. Once back in her
room she began to clean her face. Her dress was wrinkled beyond belief, caked with
smeared make up, and -- as an afterthought -- indicative of where she had come from.
The whole ensemble made her realize she would have to buy some new clothes. It
wouldn't do to have people see her and immediately think of Seattle or the Seahawks.
Especially in the land of the Denver Broncos. That could even be dangerous.

The idea of buying a new dress did not encourage her. With a substantial amount of
money, she could have gone to a store where it would have been a pleasure to shop --
the sophisticated attention and care would have been a joy to experience. But when one
had minimal funds, the types of shops where she could go would be more into the
concept of shopping as a contact sport.

The make up job took a little over thirty minutes. She was, after all, still attempting to
down play her beauty. The dress, however, was an unredeemable mess. Dawn looked
at the Seattle Seahawks sweat shirt and the smeared makeup and abruptly had an idea.
She turned the sweat shirt inside out, and decided it was still marginally presentable... In
a revolutionary fashion sort of way. Slipping it on, she once again hid her figure from the
world, and decided she would at least not frighten small children and dogs.

Then she restuffed her overnight bag and sat on the bed to consider her plight.

Finances would be difficult. Her wardrobe would have to be both frugal and nondescript.
Her actions and appearance would have to exemplify... She searched for a word, only to
have Temperance raise its head. Dawn smiled at the thought. She had never been
particularly temperate. But it did indeed seem a time for stabilizing, adjusting and
finding some form of equilibrium. It was also, quite likely, a time of testing her mettle,
examining the sense of how she lived her life.

Shaking her head, she returned to the mundane details. The grocery bag caught her
attention first, and she again noticed that the CoD had defrosted. She picked up one
package, and wrinkled her nose at the lack of smell. Then she picked up the frozen
concentrate grape juice container, which was decidedly no longer frozen and more on the
order of squishy. Going to the sink, she grabbed the single, very traditional barrel
shaped glass and carefully opened the concentrated grape juice -- taking care not to spill
the ultimate stain liquid -- poured a quarter glass full of the juice, and then added water.
Taking a tentative drink, she decided it was still palatable, and that her breakfast was
going to be of the liquid variety.

After drinking the first glassful, and with a second glassful in hand, she returned to the
business of checking her assets. First, stuffed within her larger strapped purse, was her
small handbag -- wherein resided some $35, several credit cards whose use could be
more dangerous than allowable, two sets of useless keys to a condo and an automobile
and an office, and the miscellaneous variety of objects traditionally associated with
women's purses. The inventory completed, Dawn decided money was going to be the
prime problem. Then she put her purse aside and turned to Gil's briefcase.

The letter was still on top where she had left it, and still addressed to Doctor Alexander
Dukas in Fort Collins. For a moment, she wondered where Fort Collins was. Then she
began to look over the letter itself. Her curiosity was aroused, but she decided it was not
yet time to open that can of worms.

Next, she began to check out the other contents of the briefcase. Item: Two airline
tickets to Mexico City. The sight immediately brought tears to her eyes -- apparently she
was not entirely out of the stuff from which tears were derived. Then some little used
instinct for survival overrode the sentimentality associated with the tickets she and Gil
would have used, and instead questioned if they could be exchanged for cash. She
suspected they couldn't -- at least not in the legitimate world of rules and proper
behavior. There was also the fact they had been issued by a travel agency of whom she
had never heard, and which presumably, had never heard of her. The end result was the
lack of the necessary credibility in which one could easily cash in the tickets.

This left the slightly shadier world of ticket agenting by unauthorized personnel. It
wasn't a world she was eager to enter. Maybe later, she told herself. Carefully putting
them into one of the small pouches in the briefcase, she had another thought and
wondered aloud, "Why, Mr. Lenki, did you keep these tickets in this particular briefcase?
And why in the second safe?" When no answer was forthcoming, she mused, "Were you
maybe planning to take this briefcase to Mexico City, the pyramids and then the ancient
American ruins in the Yucatan?" She smiled slightly at the nonsensical train of thought.
"Maybe a business meeting on top of a pyramid?"

Returning to her inventory of assets, she immediately came across her and Gil's
passports, lying underneath where the tickets had been kept. The discovery immediately
caused her to chastise herself. It had never occurred to her to take her passport when
she ran from her apartment. And a passport might be essential for someone on the run.
Only Gil's foresight had saved her. 'Of course,' she began to think, 'it might have been
luck. But I don't really believe in luck. Perhaps this was somehow fated to be.'

As she handled her passport, another thought occurred to her. A passport was not
actually needed in order to go to Mexico. The only requirement there was just a proof of
U.S. citizenship, and that was primarily needed to get back into the United States. Or at
least, that was what she remembered from prior trips south of the border. Of course, a
passport would work, but it wasn't necessary. Curious, Dawn opened the passport, as if
looking for clues. Instead of answers, however, she found more questions. Included in
her passport, were recently acquired visas to Peru, Bolivia, Ethiopia, Egypt, and Greece.
Gil must have gotten them without her knowing anything about them. But why in the
world, those places? Their planned trip had been Mexico! Not a worldwide jaunt!

Dawn sat holding the passport in her hand, her eyes wandering around the room, but not
focusing on anything in particular. There were a lot of pieces of the puzzle here, and it
was not entirely clear that there was even a single puzzle. There was a host of
questions, and Gil was not around to answer them. The thought of Gil had an effect on a
deep emotional level, but Dawn's conscious mind seemed to overrule it. There was quite
clearly a great deal of information and planning that Gil had not shared with her! The
sense she had had of his trusting her took a rather substantial hit as Dawn realized Gil
had been taking a lot of unilateral actions concerning them, and had not bothered to clue
her in. A sadness mixed with wounded anger welled up inside her. Then she shook her
head, and finished off the glass of grape juice in her hand. Getting up, she mixed and
refilled the glass, and returned to the bed.

The bulk of the contents of the briefcase turned out to be a stack of scientific papers,
mostly photocopies, but a few reprints. Each of them bore Gil's characteristic
highlighting of every passage that didn't move. Dawn didn't think Gil had been a
scientist -- even though recent revelations had made her begin to doubt if she really
knew -- but she did know he was smart enough to understand most scientific concepts.
Of course, Dawn was not a scientist either, but she too was far from dumb. For a
moment she leafed through the stack of papers, looking at the titles, and glancing briefly
at their contents.

Such a wondrous lot: “Microclusters, small aggregates of atoms constituting a distinct

phase of matter” -- A Scientific American article, which Dawn could probably decipher.
“New Radio-activities, atomic nuclei somehow spontaneously restructuring themselves”-
Another Scientific American article. “Superdeformation in 104, 105Pd”, “Collective and
single particle structure in 103Rh”, and “Possible discontinuity in octupole behavior” -
Physical Review articles which she found the titles alone difficult to understand. Three
papers with enough mathematics to obscure any concept: “Inertias of superdeformed
bands”, “Quantum size effects in rapidly rotating nuclei”, and “Bound States, Cooper
Pairing, and Bose Condensation in Two Dimensions.” Then there was a much thicker
paper entitled “The New Superconductors” -- which Dawn decided, after a cursory
review, might be legible to her novice mind. After all, it had pictures! And explanatory
drawings! This in contrast to three more papers with a bewildering array of modern
mathematics: “Random electrodynamics: The theory of classical electrodynamics with
classical electromagnetic zero-point radiation”, “Gravity as a zero-point-fluctuation
force”, and “Inertia as a zero-point-field Lorentz force.” Amazingly, (at least to Dawn),
Gil had extensively highlighted the third paper despite its awe-inspiring-to-the-novice
mathematics.

Dawn looked up, amazed at the continuing revelations about her former boss. Picking up
the Gravity paper by Puthoff, she flipped through it, impressed by the mathematics. But
then she noticed one sentence which Gil had circled and placed multiple stars about -- his
method of strongly emphasizing what he felt was important. But then Dawn read the
sentence: "For the two-dimensional Zitterbewegung motion assumed in our case (N=2),
geometrical considerations require that U be reduced by a factor (N/3)2 = 4/9." That
made no sense at all. And yet, Gil had been impressed enough to write in the margin:
"exactly the right amount!" Clearly, there was something she wasn't understanding.

Dawn shook her head again, and glanced at the remaining three papers: “Magnetic Flux
Quantization and Josephson Behavior in Living Systems”, “Nonlinear Properties of
Coherent Electric Vibrations in Living Cells”, and “Extracting energy and heat from the
vacuum.” These looked easier to read, but there was no way she was going to find them
trivial. Microclusters, spontaneous fission, superconductivity, zero-point energy, living
systems... All of this was more than a little strange.

There was also a set of Gil's typed notes, entitled "Order Out of Chaos by Ilya Prigogine
and Isabelle Stengers". These notes had not only been highlighted in detail, but some
passages had been underlined with a typewriter. All very, very strange, Dawn thought,
but at the same time, probably very, very important! Gil had, after all, included them in
a briefcase, locked in a secure safe. And yet these were papers taken from very public
journals and available in most any scientific or university library. But then it hit Dawn: If
the papers themselves were not highly secret, them perhaps the combination, the
juxtaposition of them in one place, was a secret. Perhaps it was the connection between
the papers that was so important!

Slowly, Dawn began to realize that in order to penetrate the mystery and connect the
concepts, she would have to study the ingredients. Smiling, she said aloud, "Perhaps
some light reading for later."

But then she noticed a paperback book, Myths of Mesopotamia.

Dawn knew that Gil had been into mythology, but to keep the book in a safe!? Strange!
For a moment she leafed through the book -- which was primarily a translation of a
variety of different Mesopotamian myths. Then she noticed out of the corner of her eye,
a small notebook in Gil's beloved scrawl lying quietly in the briefcase. She immediately
turned her attention to the notebook, and began to leaf though it. It was, after all,
something of Gil's that carried a great deal more of his personality than simply the
accumulated papers and books written by others.

But the topics in the notebook were strange and intermixed with unusual abandon -- at
least for Gil. There were notes on Egyptian and Mexican pyramids and the mathematical
similarities between them. There were detailed geometrical notes -- apparently
connecting different places on maps of central Mexico, as well as separate but similar
maps of the Peruvian highlands and the Middle East. There were also on other pages
references to precious metals, volcanoes, and South Africa -- the latter with a detailed
description of a seam of precious metals in a deep South African mine. The book also
contained numbers on the amounts of Incan gold taken by the Spanish conquistadors,
and several references (but with no explanation) to "The Golden Tear from the Eye of
Horus". The latter even had a simple diagram, carefully drawn with a broad felt tip pen.
Puzzling. The only Horus Dawn could recall was an ancient Egyptian god. But why lock
in a secure safe, notes on something that well known?

Dawn shook her head, subconsciously thinking perhaps that the physical movement
would cause all of the disjointed pieces of the puzzle to suddenly fall into a connected
and consistent whole. But it didn't happen. For the moment the pieces just laid there,
as if mocking her.

Then she noticed several postcard sized printed photos in one small pocket of the
briefcase's interior. She knew immediately they were photos of crop circles. As she
began to look at each one individually, she sensed an overpowering emotion welling up
within her. As if the unique and precisely executed designs were communicating with her
subconscious in some mysterious manner -- reaching down into her mind via a form of
communications for which language was woefully inadequate. One of the photos showed
what looked like a sun burst with a large circle in the center and six smaller circles
connected in a slightly curving loop extending outward. On the opposite side of the card,
she noted the title: "Danebury Ring, Hants. Formed June 1995 in barley. © Lucy Pringle."
Dawn also noticed that the card was published by an organization called the Centre for
Crop Circle Studies, 13 West Parade, Norwich NR2 3DN, July 1995. Presumably, the
Centre was in Norwich, England.

There were other photos with similar legends: Another by Lucy Pringle showing three
large concentric rings with what looked like a radiating squared off lattice in one half of a
single quadrant. One by someone called Busty Taylor showing four concentric rings
within a four pointed spiraling flair. Then one with a series of circles in a long curving
loop, the circles decreasing in size in a systematic fashion.

For some reason the latter photo captured her attention. She noticed the largest circle
was slightly out of sequence in terms of the regular increase in size of the other
connected circles -- the largest circle being a bit too large. Then she unaccountably
counted the number of circles. Twenty-one, not counting the largest. The number
suddenly set off bells in her mind. This was the crop circle Nathan Fox had described --
the one he had been apparently very upset about!

Dawn turned over the photo, and was immediately struck by the sight of Gil's
handwriting where he had written "Shoemaker-Levy, July 20, 1994! Right on
schedule!" Dawn stared at the words. Clearly Gil had assumed the comet which had
broken into twenty-one pieces and struck Jupiter during that summer week in 1994, was
somehow being recognized in a field of grain in England. This had some meaning --
some profound unstated, and perhaps unknown implication.

Dawn sat for a moment, trying to piece it all together. The only real hope, she began to
suspect, was to talk to the unknown Alexander Dukas. Or else open the letter addressed
to him. Replacing the notebook and paperback book in the briefcase and again picking
up the letter, she began to try to sense the contents. She was loath to open it, but in
holding it in her hand, she knew it could contain a lot of the answers.

It was quite thick -- probably seven to ten pages, she guessed -- and sealed with
considerable care in an extra large letter envelope, a brown one resistant to peering
through -- even though she knew the contents were enclosed in tinfoil as well. To open
it would later be obvious to anyone. Of course, she could always acquire a new envelope
and perhaps no one, particularly Doctor Dukas, would be the wiser. Still, it was a matter
of ethics. Dawn could not violate Gil's trust; even now. Especially now. Dawn put the
letter back into the briefcase and closed the case. Knowing the combination, she felt
comfortable in spinning the small dials and locking the contents away for the present.

With the briefcase closed and out of mind, she noticed the purple grocery bag with its
cargo of CoD, laying on the bed. "So little formerly frozen cod... Why don't you stink?"

Taking one package out of the bag, she began to unwrap it. Within moments, she had
her hands full of American Eagle gold coins. Dawn was amazed, delighted, and a little
giddy. She suddenly had all the money she would need! And Gil had told her the "CoD"
was especially for her! Tears welled up in her eyes, as she felt Gil's caring hand in
providing for her -- even "in extremis". The intensity of her gratitude to him was
rekindled, and she cried in joy. Then her practical nature returned her to the now.

She began counting the coins. The total came to thirty six coins, amounting to,
presumably, thirty six ounces of gold in each package. At roughly four hundred dollars
per ounce (or coin, coins being worth more than simple gold bullion), she had...
"$14,400!" Voicing it had gotten her full attention. Then the more relevant revelation hit
her: "$14,400 per package! That amounts to $57,600 in all!! Oh my heavens! I'm
rich!" The realization sent her into another crying spell, an emotional gamut ranging
from the thought of Gil's caring and providing for her to the profound relief of knowing
that her chances of survival had been enormously increased with the availability of the
potential cash in her hand.

Looking at the other three packages, with their carefully labeled, "CoD, AuG 88", Dawn
began to smile. "Oh Mr. Lenki," she said aloud, "You and your intellectual shenanigans.
I know what's going on here! 'CoD' stands for C.O.D. or 'Cash on Demand'! Oh, my... I
do miss your Gemini wit!" Tears welled up again, until her curiosity kicked in. "But what
about AuG 88? A date? Maybe the 'Harmonic Convergence'? No, that was the year
before." For a split moment, her mind analyzed the situation. Then her intuition broke
through and reminded her of Gil's interest in numerology. "Of course," she realized!
"'88' is a master number, and 8's represent material wealth. Of course, the two eights
add up to sixteen, and one plus six is a seven... So what does a seven mean?
Enlightenment?" Dawn turned her head, trying to see if the latter fit. It seemed to.

Then there was the "AuG". Abruptly she smiled. The fact that the "u" was a small u, and
not just a stunted capital letter when he wrote it, gave the secret away. "'Au'", she
smiled, "the chemical symbol for gold. And 'G'? I suppose it stands for gold as well."
For the first time in days, Dawn laughed. "Unbelievable. Mr. Lenki, you must have
enjoyed your little mystery in packaging the gold in this way so much. Too bad there
was no one else to see this expression of your delightful humor." In her mind, she
added, a melancholy sadness sweeping over her, 'Until now.'

Briefly, it crossed her mind: Perhaps he had had a premonition of his death. It was an
idea she could dwell on for only a moment or so.

Then reality returned, and Dawn, taking a deep breath, began to plan. She would go to
a coin dealer and sell some coins. Maybe just one coin at the first dealer -- the way she
looked, he might become suspicious if she walked in with a small mint. In the interim,
she could buy a new dress (or two). Then cash in a few more coins. She would also
carry a few in her purse, and perhaps even a few on other parts of her body. Gold, after
all was supposed to be a health thing -- she might as well wear it. In fact, she seemed
to recall, one needed colloidal gold for health purposes.
But no matter, she smiled: she was now dressing "heavy metal" style! The rest of the
gold, she would keep in her overnight case (which was now reaching saturation), some in
her backpack purse, and some in the briefcase. She was determined to always have
some gold available for emergencies, and even in the event she was parted from any and
all of her carry-ons. She was not going to be destitute poor again!

Then, as an afterthought, she mused, 'No wonder the grocery bag had turned out to be
such a lethal weapon. It was heavy!'



"Good morning, big brother. Found your little runaway yet?"

Nathan looked up from his desk. He guessed there were perhaps two people in the world
with the gall to walk in on him unannounced. One was his youngest brother, Kurt. And
in this case it seemed likely Kurt's conceit today would be based on his having some
inside information. Nathan grimaced at the game Kurt was playing. "She wasn't on the
Chicago flight. Instead, we found her shoes on the airplane -- with the implant in one
heel."

Kurt looked suddenly surprised. "I'm impressed," he said with complete honesty.

"I'm not," Nathan replied. "Clearly, it's time for someone competent to take over the
effort. And despite my better judgment, you come to mind."

Shrugging, Kurt answered, "Sorry. I'd like to help. But they need me elsewhere."

"What are you talking about?

"We've discovered the identity of the brazen individual who tried to sell the rhodium,"
Kurt replied, a cynical grin on his dark, chiseled face. "And we know where he lives!"

Nathan's expression did not change. "And why is this person still alive?"

"The Committee thought you should be informed first."

"I'm surprised you didn't once again overstep your authority," Nathan replied. His
fingers came up to match each opposing finger tip, as he stared at his younger brother.

"It's in your backyard," Kurt replied, sarcastically. "At least, the one you recently
acquired." Kurt's dark face, framed by a slick, close-cropped black hair, suggested
sarcasm and challenge. But it was understated just enough to allow for a hasty retreat if
things turned ugly. "Besides," he added, "The man is obviously something of a fool. Or
quite desperate. He was willing to sell the rhodium at a mere $2,500 an ounce. I
suppose I took pity on him. You know what a softie I can be."

"Where did he get the material?" Nathan asked, ignoring the cynical attempt at humor.

"Don't know yet. I thought I'd ask when I see him," the younger brother answered. "We
do know he's been frequenting certain university and corporate research laboratories --
primarily those with the more sophisticated technological testing apparatus. In fact, he's
been recently using them with some regularity. Apparently, he doesn't believe what he
actually possesses. He has to prove it."

"What are you talking about?"

"It appears he has managed to come up with mono-atomic rhodium."

Nathan's expression suddenly hardened, his fanatical concern for control abruptly
threatened.

Kurt continued, twisting the imaginary knife in Nathan's gut. "I might remind you that a
major portion of our revenues are based on the absolute control of certain products and
services. But this man appears to be dabbling in technologies which would make the
rarity of our precious elements a thing of the past. And anything which is not rare, is
going to have significantly lower profit margins. Obviously, we can't have someone
running about threatening one of our most lucrative markets!"

"It's not the market, idiot! It's the very life blood of the Father!" Nathan was clearly
angry.

"I know what it is!" Kurt flung back. "But the underlings don't!" Then, with Nathan
ready to turn away, he added, "How long must we wait? How long do we continue this
'hiding behind the scenes'?" The last phrase, Kurt virtually spit out. Then his voice grew
colder and even more ominous. "How long must we tolerate the insidious Humanki?"

"A few meager years," Nathan answered. "Now go! Take care of this infidel. And do it
personally! I want a full report immediately upon your return."

Kurt turned and began to walk from the room, ready to do his elder brother's bidding. At
the door and over his shoulder, he asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm, "Do you want to
know his name?" When Nathan dismissed the idea with the wave of his hand, Kurt
smiled cynically. "His name's Alexander Dukas, a Ph.D., former professor, and a very
foolish and naive entrepreneur." With that Kurt left the room, letting the double doors
close behind him.
Strength

Chapter Six

It was a new woman who entered the bus station. She wore a brand new dress, but one
which was substantially distant from the current fashions. (Dawn had wanted to alleviate
any hint of its bearer being out of place in the lower income echelons of any bus station
in the country.) The dress also effectively hid her figure in folds and drapery, giving her
the home town look of someone just off the farm, but not pretty enough to attract errant
males. Her hair was now covered with a blonde wig -- the black wig just wouldn't come
clean! Her make up had gone from the overdone style, common to what she thought of
as "California Excessive", and had become the washed out version of "down home in
Iowa" fashion. Only her eyes would give away the fact the lady under the drab coverings
had a lot more sophistication than appearances would suggest. There was only the
slightest hint of the Strength she possessed, no one suspecting she would be capable of
walking alongside a lion with nothing more than a lei of flowers to control the beast. This
was a woman with her fears now under control. (It's amazing what a little shopping can
do!)

Inside her bag, of course, was a dress of significantly improved fashion -- one which she
hoped she would eventually be able to wear sometime in the future, albeit most likely in
less public situations. At that time, she would also hope to avail herself of some
professional help from a local beauty salon. Come to think of it, after the last few days
Dawn could really use a full bodied facial.

As for the decision to go to Fort Collins by bus... Despite the fact three gold coins had
been redeemed for nearly $1200, Dawn had quickly realized there was no other form of
transportation which did not require some form of documentation -- and which in turn
would allow someone with connections to trace her movements. Any rental car, for
example, would require a credit card. A long distance taxi -- it turned out Fort Collins
was some sixty miles north of Denver -- would be an unusual event and something which
a taxi driver would remember. It was also, Dawn suspected, potentially dangerous for a
woman traveling alone if it became obvious she had the kind of cash to hire a taxi for a
long trip. As for buying a used car with cash, even a clunker, would require title
documentation. Plus which, any seller might be cautious of a cash deal. Dawn didn't
want to leave even the slightest hint of a paper or a memory trail. Thus, the only non-
documented form of public transportation left in the country was the bus. It's the only
place where they don't ask who you are, but just take your money.

The latter, however, also explains the characteristics of the average bus rider. It's a very
strange combination of souls which ride the intracity buses. There are those with purple
hair, chrome chains dangling from the waist and shoulders, little old ladies (who may or
may not be drug pushers on the side), young girls innocent of how to appear attractive
(or intentionally avoiding appearing so during the bus trip), and the inevitable soldier or
sailor home on leave, dressed in his country's finest. Dawn decided, as she purchased
her ticket, that she would sit close to the first available soldier or sailor who came along.
It just seemed the prudent thing to do.
Then, as she found a place to sit and wait for the bus, she glanced around at her
potential fellow passengers. All in all, she began to think, the clientele of the bus trade
seemed preferable to many of the airline passengers of which she was recently
acquainted. Money, no matter how much, has never managed to prevent anyone from
being disagreeable and a bore if that was their nature.

While still in the bus station, and later, on the bus during the two hour trip to Fort Collins
(the bus must have stopped at least twelve times between Denver and Fort Collins!),
Dawn began to go through the contents of Gil's briefcase in detail. She read the
Scientific American papers, found them interesting, but couldn't understand Gil's interest
in the subjects. She carefully read his highlighted passages in the other papers, and
went through his typed and scrawled notes -- imprinting the information onto her near
photographic memory. Even if she still didn't understand the importance or relatedness
of each, she would remember them, and eventually piece them together.

She then wrote a few notes of her own, listing the variety of subjects, ranging from
microclusters, spontaneous fission, and high nuclear spin states, to
superconductivity, Josephson connections in living cells, and SQUID -- the latter an
acronym for "Superconducting Quantum Interference Devices", the machine in which Gil
had supposedly “died the first time.”

There was also the notes on Prigogine and zero-point-energy. The latter focused her
attention as she noticed a small paperback book which she had overlooked before. Dawn
could remember Gil telling her how incredibly important zero-point-energy was, and here
was a book entitled Tapping the Zero-Point Energy, with the subtitle of "How 'free
energy' and 'antigravity' might be possible with today's physics." [1] Gil had not only
highlighted passage after passage in the book, but had underlined many sections, written
notes in the margins on others, and paperclipped specific pages. Dawn decided it was
time to go through this book in detail. She dived into it with something of a vengeance.

She had scanned the book and read several different chapters -- enough to convince
herself Gil was indeed right about the potential importance of zero-point-energy -- when
the bus began to pull into Fort Collins. Dawn put the book away, and closed the brief
case. It was time for a new adventure.

Which in itself, turned out to be more than she had anticipated. The "Fort Collins Bus
Station" was, in reality, the back door of a gas station. Its sole amenity was a pay
telephone stuck in a corner in the interior of the station -- a corner which also served as
a place to store oily rags, defunct gas cans, and empty lube oil barrels. Dawn was
nevertheless thankful for even this fringe benefit of leaving the driving to someone else.
She would simply call a taxi and have him take her to 20884 Redstone Canyon!

She then rifled through the local yellow pages, ignoring the fact they were wrinkled and
soiled. She had seen very little of Fort Collins on the way into town and had no real idea
of how big a city and/or town (maybe village) it was. But the yellow pages were
considerable -- suggesting a city in the population range of 100,000. Unfortunately,
despite the small city status, there were no listings in the Yellow Pages under "Taxi" (i.e.
nothing between "Taverns" and "Tax Return Preparations") nor under "Cab".

Dawn looked around for a moment, wondering if she was out-of-luck. What other
category would a taxi be listed under, she wondered. Then she had alternative idea.
Turning to the white pages, she looked up Alexander Dukas. Only there was no Dukas.
'Naturally,' she thought, 'It's a lead pipe cinch this guy will be Mr. Privacy and have an
unlisted number. Now what?'
Turning to the nice looking, nineteen year old grease monkey, who had given her only
the most cursory glance when she came into the station, she asked in her most charming
fashion, "Aren't there any taxi services here in Fort Collins?"

The advanced teenager looked at her with the first hint of surprise. Her voice and
demeanor did not quite fit with the woman's dress and appearance. Being an
experienced man of the teenage world, he considered himself an excellent judge of
women and found the discontinuity vaguely unsettling. This woman might deserve a bit
more attention than he had initially determined. In fact, he might have very nearly
missed the opportunity to strut his stuff. Time to make up for lost time, he decided.
Smiling his best smile, he replied, "Of course. But if you can wait a couple of hours, I'd
be happy to give you a lift."

Dawn could not help but smile at the youthful, wholly in vain, attempt. "Thanks so
much, but I'm really in something of a hurry. And I wouldn't want to put you to any
trouble."

With total honesty, complete sincerity, and a carefully calculated sigh in his voice, the
youngster replied, "No problem at all." His deep voice carried several messages on the
carrier wave.

"A taxi?" Dawn replied, her voice as plaintive as possible.

His hopes only moderately dashed, the eternal young optimist suggested, "Try looking
under “Shamrock” in the white business pages."

Dawn's faith in the future heightened slightly, she returned to the phone book. Sure
enough, highlighted in bright yellow was "Shamrock Transportation Services" with
separate numbers for luxury limousines, shuttle services, and taxi services. She quickly
dialed the taxi -- deciding that even with money to spare, a limousine might be a bit
showy for the current situation. Getting through immediately, Dawn soon had the taxi
on its way to pick her up. Then, on a hunch, she turned back to the yellow pages to look
up "transportation services." Nothing. To herself, she muttered, "So much for letting
one's fingers do the walking in the yellow pages. If I had relied on them, I'd have ended
up letting my legs do the walking, probably all over Fort Collins! Or at least to Redstone
Canyon."

In the interim few minutes, there might have been another opportunity for the aspiring
young Romeo to pursue his recent quest. But life being life, business got busier and the
cause of true love between the young stud and the older woman took another downturn.
Se la vie. For Dawn it was more of a sense of relief, and she stepped outside into the
bright sun and dry air in order to relax.

It was a nicely kept taxi that finally drove up. But Dawn's initial feeling that things were
starting to work out in her favor, waned slightly when she realized the taxi driver was a
foreign student, apparently from Eastern Europe and with less than the ideal command of
the language. There was also the small matter that he tended to get lost a great deal in
his new temporary home. Giving him the address, he was at first a bit bewildered. At
the local university for less than a year, he knew only a few locations and the routes to
take him there, and as a consequence, was heavily dependent upon a local map. Not
surprisingly, he had never heard of Redstone Canyon. He went through the street index
and came up empty. "No Redstone Canyon in Fort Collins," was the sum total of his
pronouncement.

Dawn looked at him for a moment, and then turned to the teenager, who had just
finished with a customer. "Excuse me," she called out, "do you know where Redstone
Canyon is?"
The boy was delighted at the new opportunity to incur Dawn's gratitude. "Redstone
Canyon? No problem. Got a map?" Taking the proffered map from the driver, the
teenager explained with gestures and finger pointing, "Other side of Horsetooth
Reservoir. Go around the south end, and then past Horsetooth Rock. Depending on the
exact address, either head south toward Loveland, or north and higher up into the
foothills. You can't miss it."

Dawn made sure she followed the directions as well, knowing it was entirely possible for
her foreign driver to "miss it". She thanked the teenager, who flashed her one of his
best smiles in return. Meanwhile, the driver was busy calculating the possible fare (he
was a math major -- it's what they do).

"This isn't in town," he pointed out.

Dawn looked at the bewildered face for only a moment. "I'll pay both ways, even if I
don't come back with you. That way you'll be well compensated. You might even get a
nice tip."

The use of the word 'tip' did not escape the driver's notice. In fact, the word is now
universally recognized in 140 countries around the world, and incorporated within
eighteen major languages and innumerable dialects. And while the locals did not strike
the taxi driver as being extravagant tippers, this lady had all the qualities of a visiting
American tourist to his homeland; someone who had as yet failed to fully understand the
value of a dollar in a Eastern European country. He smiled.

"Ivan get you there in record time," he assured her.

As Ivan leapt to the task of fulfilling his mission, Dawn had a momentary pause. Foreign
drivers had a reputation for far more adventure in their driving excursions. As the driver
turned, put the car in gear, rolled to the edge of the service driveway, and
uncharacteristically took the time to look and check the traffic, Dawn voiced her concern,
"I'd rather not be stopped by the police."

"No problem!" Whereupon he gunned the taxi, throwing Dawn back against the seat,
and causing a small cloud of dust and rubber fumes. As they accelerated, Dawn then
noticed the driver had only then remembered to turn on the meter, and did so.
'Definitely a small town still growing up', she thought. 'A big city taxi driver would have
had the meter running a lot sooner.'

At the first red light, he asked, "First time in Fort Collins?" The driver had apparently
decided friendly conversation could also be conducive to the size of tips.

"Yes," she answered. And then to continue the conversation, "How big is Fort Collins?"

"Don't know. When I first arrived, it was, I think, eighty thousand. But now they say,
one hundred and twenty thousand. Who knows?"

Surprised, Dawn asked, "It's grown that fast?"

"Oh yeah," the driver answered, putting the car back into gear and accelerating from the
stop light. "Mostly people from California, I think." Then quickly, "You always know if
they're from California. Very weird." Then he had a sudden wave of concern. "You from
California?"

"No," Dawn answered, smiling. "I'm from..." She hesitated. "Texas."

"Oh," Ivan answered. "Coloradoans don't like Texans either."

With the conversation somewhat stunted by Ivan's last pronouncement, and the fact he
had to take the time to yell at another driver's aborted attempt to cut him off, Dawn
relaxed back into her seat again. She watched the trees and homes rush by, and opened
the brief case again. Not ready for any deep thinking, she picked up the Mesopotamian
myths book. It was then she noticed a carefully folded sheet inside. On it was a family
tree of the gods and goddesses of Sumeria. She noted several of them were highlighted
-- five gods and two goddesses, with the unlikely names of EN.LIL, EN.KI, NIN.KI,
NIN.UR.TA, ISH.KUR, NIN.GISH.ZI.DA, and I.NAN.NA.

Dawn also noticed what appeared to her to be a fair amount of inbreeding (a not
uncommon quality of mythologies throughout the world). In this case, EN.LIL and EN.KI
appeared to be half-brothers, while NIN.KI was their half-sister. I.NAN.NA could claim
both brothers as her grandfathers, while, NIN.UR.TA and ISH.KUR, were both sons of
EN.LIL. NIN.GISH.ZI.DA was a son of EN.KI. Dawn puzzled over the chart for a few
minutes, until the taxi took a corner too sharply and skidded slightly. Dawn decided now
was not the time to read. Or even think, for that matter. Perhaps, prayer might be
more in order.

But then she noticed they were now leaving the confines of the city streets and climbing
a long ridge. The contour of the ridge was flat, but sloped at a steep angle, and virtually
devoid of trees. The road, in turn, was climbing at a slight angle, and then began to loop
back. The curve was well banked and the driver was clearly delighting in taking the
curve at full throttle. Fortunately, the road was steep enough to prevent his accelerating
to too great a speed, and thus provided everyone with the comforting sense that one
could press the pedal to the metal with complete abandon.

As the taxi climbed up the slope, Dawn had a great view of Fort Collins out of the right
window, along with the surrounding landscape extending across an expansive grassy
plain all the way to the horizon. It was a quirk of Colorado geology that the eastern
plains had few trees, few rivers, and a gentle slope from an elevation of roughly 3000 on
the eastern frontier to 5000 feet at the edge of the Rocky Mountains. Along a north-
south line running nearly the entire length of the state, the mountains and foothills
abruptly arose to mark a clean break from the flat plains. The edge of the mountains
also had the shape of the plains, but a surface suddenly tilted up to form an acute angle
with the adjacent flatlands. The taxi was now climbing up one such surface, the first
wave of the foothills and mountains.

But then the taxi turned a corner and headed into a small cleft in the mountain itself. On
the right, Dawn saw a large earthen and rock dam, and behind it, a large lake. As they
rounded another corner, Dawn realized the body of water was much longer than wide,
and apparently filled the long valley between the first rise of foothills and the second
wave of mountain building.

"That's Horsetooth Rock, up there," the driver noted, trying to be helpful, even while
roaring along the mountain road, now paralleling the water's edge and at a considerable
height above it. Fortunately, Dawn thought, it was a good road with minimal traffic on
it. But then she looked around for a Rock, until she found it on the top of the most
prominent peak of what she assumed was the third wave of mountain building.

"Why do they call it 'Horsetooth Rock'?"

"Because it look like the tooths of a horse, when you see it. But you have to be at the
right angle, so you can see the cracks between the tooths."
As the driver began to round another long looping curve, and head up a second ridge,
Dawn decided he should best be left to his driving. The taxi then reached the cut in the
second ridge and looped back again in the opposite direction. Below and to the right was
an inlet of the lake, situated between the second and third waves of mountains, and what
was obviously a marina filled with boats. Dawn was impressed with the scene, but then
wondered what kind of man would live this far out from the city.

She had considered trying to telephone ahead (assuming she could get Dukas' number
from the operator), but she didn't want to use Gil's name over the telephone. Not quite
yet. Besides, it seemed more prudent to simply land on his doorstep, send the taxi
away, and then force Doctor Dukas to take her in. This was the time for any port in a
storm. She was in trouble and had no idea of what to do next -- other than run and
cover her tracks.

Then she caught herself. It wouldn't be that simple. Any port in a storm might not be
enough. Gil's injunction had been for Dawn to carry the torch for him. Nothing had
changed in that regard, but she knew instinctively there were things that had to be done
and that this Dukas fellow had a variety of answers for her. She was not going to be
dissuaded from continuing Gil's work. Running in order to survive was not enough!
There had to be more.

Not surprisingly, there was a great deal more!

_________________________________________

[1] Tapping the Zero-Point Energy, M. B. King, Paraclete Publishing, Provo, Utah, 1989.
The Hermit

Chapter Seven

Dawn's first impression of Redstone Canyon was that it was aptly named. The fact that
there were hundreds of canyons in the Rocky Mountain west with the same formations of
red stone did not dissuade any of the locals from applying it here. It was the most
notable redstoned canyon within fifty or so miles of Fort Collins, and was thus accorded
the appropriate honors. That's the way they do things in the west.

The drive north along the canyon had an unexpected benefit for Dawn, as the road
followed a small stream which had more than its normal amount of water. Dawn had
arrived in mid-June, following one of the wettest months of the year for the Fort Collins
Area. In addition, this particular year had seen much more spring rain than normal. The
result was a proliferation of greenery, evergreen and deciduous trees randomly
intermixed, all providing occasional shade for springtime mountain flowers. It was an
enchanting drive. It was also a time for the local Realtors to take advantage of the
unusual greenery, and which they were currently doing with a vengeance!

The only flaw for Dawn was that the road was a mix of dirt and gravel, with occasional
stretches of "washboard-style" rough spots. There has yet to be discovered any effective
way to traverse a gravel strewn washboard road without feeling every bone-rattling
bump, and depending upon the speed involved, jarring one's internal organs and teeth to
the point of the victim becoming a devout believer in the Cult of Asphalt and Paving
(CAP). Ivan, on the other hand, having had experience growing up in Eastern Europe
and driving on woefully maintained roads (as well as dodging bomb and mortar craters
and other hazards of the less peaceful world), found the rough spots considerably less
disturbing. The Communists had not only been lousy at road construction, but "repair"
was an art form even further a field.

What Ivan did notice, however, was one of the commoner sights of Rocky Mountain roads
-- paved and otherwise. "Did you ever see so many gates along a road, all with 'Keep
Out' signs?"

Dawn admitted she hadn't, and added, "I just saw one that said, 'No Trespassing -- Use
Phone to Discuss Admittance.' I guess they like their privacy."

"Maybe they just don't like people from California and Texas."

Dawn smiled, thinking Ivan had apparently already forgotten about her alleged home.
She toyed with the idea of making some kidding remark, when he added, "Why you go
see this person, this Hermit? Is he a wise sage sitting on top of the mountain? You go
for advice and direction?"

Before Dawn could answer, they reached the end of the seven miles of the upper
Redstone Canyon road, and found themselves in a small, gravel cul-de-sac. Around the
curve there were nothing but locked gates. Ivan pulled up and stopped, slightly to one
side. Across the way, a small sign included the addresses further up the canyon, and
included 20884. There were no other signs that Dukas or anyone else lived in the area.
The only item of significance was that the gate was a remote controlled one, hinting at
the fact that substantial residences were just beyond. "End of road," Ivan noted. The
man really had a flair for the obvious.

Dawn shifted forward in her seat in order to take in the lay of the land. A small house
rested atop the rise to the left, but it's number was not 20884. Dawn was actually
relieved as she didn't like the look of the house at all. It was old, badly in need of some
more white paint, and totally blah. She would not want her only viable port in a storm to
live in a place so devoid of character. As for where Doctor Dukas did reside...?

Fortunately, Fate has its own entertainment. As Dawn looked at the black wrought iron
(but otherwise simply designed) gate, it began opening. Within seconds, a four wheel
drive roared by. (All four wheel drive vehicles are required by law to traverse all roads in
Colorado in a state of roaring.)

Dawn had not the slightest hesitation. "Quick, while the gate is still open," she ordered
Ivan, "Follow that Explorer! Or Cherokee. Or whatever it is."

Ivan, however, did have the slightest hesitation. "But it private gate."

Dawn leaned into the front seat. "There's an extra fifty bucks for you if you make it!"

Ivan's ear-hand-foot coordination was excellent. Between the words "fifty bucks" and
"make it", he had shifted gears, and surged ahead. The taxi was through the gate with
ten seconds to spare.

During the dash for the inner sanctum, Dawn had obliquely marveled at the power of
money. But the sudden degradation in the road caught her attention, replacing the
excitement of going where no one (but authorized personnel and guests) had gone
before. Off to the right was what might be described as a farmland junk yard: a variety
of rusting implements and vehicles scattered with little consideration for land value. The
road was a set of one-way twin tracks, laced with grass, weeds, and more than a few
rocks along each wheel path. The four wheel drive vehicle had shot ahead and already
rounded a bend. Ivan, meanwhile, had quickly noted the deterioration of the driving
surface and slowed down. It had occurred to him he did not want to catch up with the
other vehicle, just in case questions might be asked.

Dawn couldn't help remembering a statistic she had once saw to the effect that only 15%
of so-called off-road vehicles ever leave paved highways and actually drive on gravel or
rougher roads. One could easily see why. Life was already insufficiently smooth without
looking for rough spots. Rough roads were, in a word, un-suave. Still fewer people, she
guessed, sought out mud baths or massive snow banks to ram their four wheel drive
vehicles through -- particularly snow banks since they are almost never composed of
fluffy snow, but rather hard-packed ice -- effectively, a brick wall. So much, she mused,
for the hype and distortion of the advertisers of off-road vehicles!

Rounding the hill of the formerly-white house, the road entered a rocky, gravel stretch as
it paralleled (and occasionally conjuncted) the stream bed. But then as the road crossed
the shallow stream at one point and was coming out the other side, Ivan suddenly hit the
brakes. Dawn was thrown forward, but was more surprised at the idea of braking than
the sudden change in momentum. When she looked to Ivan for an explanation, he
pointed to a vertical sign they had almost passed. On it was the number, "20884" and a
small arrow pointing to the right. The taxi was on the left fork. Ivan turned to back up,
smiling broadly. Dawn smiled as well, as the taxi backed into the shallow stream, and
then surged forward along the right fork. Ivan, feeling a great deal more confident -- he
had found the address and he was looking at a nice remuneration of cash -- decided on
the more humorous approach. "We on the right track now!" He smiled broadly, checking
the rear view to see if Dawn understood the pun.

She did, gave him a nice smile, but did not quite manage a laugh. Which was just as
well. They had gone less than a hundred yards, when another, even more substantial
gate loomed up before them. On it were the clearly marked numbers "20884" and the
inevitable sign, "No Trespassing -- Survivors Will Be Prosecuted to the Fullest Extent of
the Law." 'Welcome home,' Dawn thought.

Ivan's response was more prosaic. "Uh oh."

The taxi pulled up to within twenty feet of the gate and stopped. The gate was clearly
intended to enforce its no trespassing edict, at least for automobiles. Dawn stepped out
of the taxi, and standing by the driver's door, carefully studied the situation. There was
no other hint of civilization in sight; only a branch of the stream along the right, and a
hill rising steeply on the left. Ahead was a forest of trees and in the distance, more hills
-- some grassy and some covered with evergreens. Dawn decided she could climb over
the gate and head out on foot. But there was no real way to gauge how far she might
have to walk. It could be a very long walk, and it could entail a lot of climbing. Not the
best alternative.

Slowly she began to wonder if there might be a hidden camera or other communication
device somewhere around, if only to announce one's presence or a means with which to
"discuss admittance." But as she glanced around, she found nothing. But where there's
a will, there's a way.

"Stay here," she told Ivan. "I'm going to try something."

Walking forward, she came to within four feet of the gate. There was nothing in sight
that might be used for communication. Then, thinking she might be overheard, she said
aloud, "Open!"

Ivan was immediately impressed by the audacity if not the bravado of this lady. Then as
the gate began to slide open, he was more than impressed -- he was well on his way to
becoming the high priest of a newly formed religion he would establish on her behalf.
Dawn, still facing away from Ivan and watching the gate slide by was almost as amazed
as her newly acquired devotee. Then she turned, her face delighted by her new found
powers. That's when she saw the red Firebird behind the taxi.

The brazen qualities of audacity, being what they are, rather demanded that one keep up
the charade. Apparently in full command of the situation, she stepped to the roadside
and waved the taxi forward. Ivan, still blissfully unaware of the red Firebird behind him
(he could not take his eyes off his new found deity), surged forward to where Dawn
stood. As she jumped into the car, she ordered, "Hit it!"

Ivan obeyed instantly (his quest for monetary tips completely overshadowed by the thrill
of being a favored disciple of the planet's most recently anointed goddess). The road
curved slightly to the left, then back to the right, where it crossed the smaller stream.
Dawn sat on the edge of her seat, placing herself where she could see where they were
going, and at the same time, situating herself between Ivan's rearview mirror and the
red Firebird following them. The road abruptly headed up the hill, and slowly came into
an area of sparser trees. Near the top of the rise, flanked by rocky cliffs on one side, and
a hillside of trees on the other, was a house Dawn was certain was the residence of the
reclusive Doctor Dukas.
Dawn smiled as they drove up the improved road, for it was a very nice house. Not by
its size, or manicured landscaping. Not even by surrounding buildings or other signs of
outlandish display. But rather by its shape. The main portion, as Dawn would eventually
see, was a seven sided regular polygon with a cupola at the peak of the roof. It was
flanked on either side by wings of equal size. Behind, was a larger third wing, which
included a three-car garage. Coming up the hill, the front of the house boasted an
almost double story of glass even though it was only a single story -- but with high
ceilings and floor to ceiling glass walls. The deck in front of the house had also been
lowered some four feet to prevent any diminution of the view to the south from inside
the house. All along the right wing, was a brick wall, containing the paved area
immediately outside of the garage. The latter contained ample space for visitors to park,
and Ivan took advantage of the situation, pulling over to clear the closed garage doors.

Dawn was out of the taxi, immediately. From her perspective, it was time to plant the
flag -- she was here to stay! "Please get my luggage," she asked Ivan. He jumped to
respond to her command. (He was still in the early stages of his initiation into her high
priesthood -- only later, when the religion had matured would he become fat, lazy, power
hungry and generally unmindful of anyone else's requests.)

The red Firebird, with less reason for haste, pulled up just as Ivan was carefully setting
Dawn's luggage on the raised sidewalk, the one adjacent to the paved area. Dawn
noticed none of the garage doors had opened at the Firebird's approach and the car had
parked on the side of the paved area opposite to where Ivan's taxi was. That seemed
strange. The taxi had left enough room for the Firebird to easily get into any of the three
garages, and it seemed unlikely the driver would leave his new car in the sun. Perhaps,
Dawn thought, 'someone didn't want to open the garage door with a stranger on the
premises.'

Dawn otherwise ignored the red Firebird and turned to Ivan. He quickly intuited her
unspoken question, saying, "Thirty dollars!" Then hastily, he added, "Each way." He was
about to add, "plus fifty," when Dawn pulled out three fifties and handed them to him.
The generosity was such he almost committed the ultimate blunder of taxi drivers the
world over and ask if she needed change.

Dawn saved him from this most grievous error. "Keep the change," she said. Ivan
smiled the smile of recent orgasmic fulfillment.

During those spiritual moments, the driver of the red Firebird had gotten out of the car
and walked over to them. Dawn's heart fell slightly, as she had straightened and
prepped herself to deal with a male -- she had always gotten along famously with
members of the opposite sex. The difficulty was that the red Firebird's driver was a
woman, perhaps sixty years of age, and probably with the presence of mind that she
could -- with the wave of her hand -- dismiss any younger female.

Dawn immediately decided to forge ahead and not look back. With just the right
combination of confidence and business-like authority, she announced, "I'm here for my
meeting with Doctor Alexander Dukas." It was time to bluff her way into the august
doctor's presence.

Unfortunately, the old woman was not easily swayed by bravado. With a slight smile,
she replied, "No, you're not. You don't have an appointment."

Dawn was surprised but undaunted. Faintly insulted, she asked, "Are you his secretary?"

"No," she replied. "But if you had an appointment, he would have opened the gate."
Dawn felt all of the wind fall out of her sails. Dropping the facade, she became more
earnest. "It's very important I see Mr. Dukas."

"Doctor Dukas," the old woman corrected.

"Doctor Dukas," Dawn replied, accepting with grace the noting of the error of her ways.
"It is really quite important."

"I'm sure it is. It's just that Alex Baby is not available for any skirt that happens to come
along. Even it it's a good looking babe with a mission."

Ivan, watching the exchange, decided to take advantage of the temporary lull caused by
the old woman's last statement. Thoughtfully, he asked Dawn, "You want me to wait?"

The old woman answered Ivan, while still keeping her eye on Dawn. "No. I don't think
the lady will be staying." It was becoming a staring match between the two women.

Dawn studied the old woman for a second, and then decided to risk it. "I have a letter
for Doctor Alexander Dukas. It's a very important letter."

"Why didn't you mail it? The Pony Express does make it this far nowadays, you know."

"It's not the kind of letter that one mails. It's too important."

The old woman seemed to relent, holding out her hand. "Oh, all right. I'll take it."

"No way," Dawn replied, her forceful answer making an impression, even on the old
woman.

She looked at Dawn for a second, before replying. "Who's it from?"

Dawn hesitated for a several seconds. Ivan watched the interplay with more fascination
than he had ever managed for Monday Night Football. Then Dawn said simply, "Gilbert
Lenki."

The old woman, with wrinkled face and a lifetime of experiences, abruptly changed her
tone and posture. She fairly peered into Dawn's psyche, seeing something far beyond
the outward appearances. Then she turned to Ivan. "You can leave now. I'll open the
gates by remote."

Ivan was disappointed. He was enjoying the show, and had rather hoped for more work
from the very generous lady. There was also the question of his next initiatory lesson in
her priesthood. He hesitated and then asked the woman, "How will you know when I'm
at the gate?"

"I'll know," she answered, calmly and gently. The old woman didn't add that the gate
had a remote camera and control, but everyone seemed to now know that such was the
case.

Smiling one last time at Dawn, he tipped his nonexistent hat, got into his taxi and left.
Dawn and the old woman watched him as he drove off, then both turned to go inside.
Dawn made a point of carrying the briefcase, while the old woman slung the overnight
bag over her shoulder like a half-filled sack of potatoes. The two of them passed through
a covered, glass enclosed porch, where a variety of flowers lightened the entry mood, a
small foyer and into the main room. The old woman politely asked her to wait, while
Dawn glanced around the interior of the main living area.
The seven sided room was impressive. Twelve foot high ceilings ran along the outer
perimeter, slanted up to a center point some sixteen feet above the floor, where they
were crowned by a seven sided raised cupola with glass opening on all seven sides.
Seven beams crossed each other in a lattice fashion to support the roof and create within
the centermost section, the support for the cupola at the top. The cupola had sides of
some five feet each, while the beam span across the room was easily thirty or forty feet.

Within the room itself, was a formal dining table to the immediate right, a kitchen area
just beyond that, a fireplace across the room, and the living area to the left. The living
room area looked out onto a view which included the other side of Horsetooth Rock (but
not so you could see the "tooths"). In the center of the room, the hardwood floors
yielded to a seven sided pit, furnished with cushions for sitting. The living room furniture
was comfortable and apparently designed to be moved about at whim -- and thus easy to
shove aside for those moments when one wanted to dance. The dining table was a dark
wood with glass inserts on the top. The kitchen, where the old woman had gone, was
done in dark green and light oak, with an island jutting out towards the center of the
room and in the direction of the "pit". Pots and pans of the same green hung from the
ceiling, providing a nice touch of warmth.

Dawn began to wander about the room, while the old woman picked up the kitchen
telephone and began to talk to someone. Crossing the space and skirting the center pit,
Dawn noticed the mantle of the fireplace, where words had been carefully carved. To
herself she read, "The ornaments of a home are the guests who frequent it." Dawn
swallowed, feeling a very nice sense of welcome within the unique surroundings.
Suddenly, Doctor Alexander Dukas did not seem such an imposing figure.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the old woman, who from the kitchen, announced,
"Alex baby will join you shortly." With that, she turned and walked out a door adjacent
to the kitchen, leaving Dawn alone. For a moment, Dawn simply felt very comfortable.

Then she began to take stock of herself and the situation. It was not yet time to relax.
She recrossed the room, where she gathered her sparse luggage together and placed it
in plain sight on the floor near the front door. Her luggage, with the gold coins within,
had taken on a lot more importance in her life than normal. Her purse she also left there
-- where she could grab it in a hurry if need be. But the briefcase seemed to cry out to
stay in her grasp. Keeping the briefcase in one hand, she began walking around the
room again, enjoying the feel of the room.

There were nice vibes, and she had gained entry quite easily. Dawn smiled,
remembering that the mere mention of Gil's name had given her a Carte Blanche
credential. Say his name, and you're ushered in, everyone suddenly taking notice of
your arrival. She was sure such hospitality would be particularly inclusive, and she thus
felt free to check out the room in some detail.

As she did so, the minutes ticked by, and Dawn slowly began to wonder. 'It was not that
large a house, and surely the good doctor did not have far to come. Why such a long
time? Or had it been all that long?' Dawn hadn't worn a watch in years, and had no
clear idea of the time. But it did seem longer than necessary. She could actually get
bored just waiting.

In response, her feet of their own accord decided to kick off her shoes. With the
hardwood floor so inviting and the small number of throw rugs scattered about leaving an
open dance area, Dawn began to pivot and twirl, letting her body dance and gather all
the beauty of her surroundings. The briefcase never left her grasp, and she began to use
it to help her twirl. The feeling was ecstatic. There are very good reasons women like to
wear long dresses when they dance and spin -- it feels fantastic! The centrifugal force on
the skirt helps the spin and affords a sense of controlled pulsing. All Dawn could think of,
in that brief moment, was to dance and spin, spin and dance. Twist one way, then the
other. Close your eyes and open your feelings to the ecstasy of pivotal flight!

As might have been expected, the Fates had not seen fit to take the day off. In keeping
with their desire for continued amusement from the antics of Dawn Riordan, the Fates
quickly arranged for a large Christmas cactus to meet Dawn's slinging briefcase in a close
encounter of the third kind, i.e. Contact! The plant fairly flew across the room, scattering
dirt, chunks of plant stalks, and some formerly quite beautiful flowers in all directions.
As if on cue, Alexander Dukas entered the room from the kitchen door just in time to
catch the festivities in all of their glory. With portions of the cactus coming to rest at his
feet, he stopped in shocked amazement. Looking down, he said, a sadness in his voice,
"My Easter cactus." Then looking up at Dawn, who had frozen in mid-twirl, he asked,
"You don't like plants?"

For a moment, Dawn was too stunned to answer. Not only had she been the agent in
launching a thousand points of cactus plant, but she had also abruptly recognized
Alexander Dukas. His resemblance to the man in her recent dreams was uncanny! An
exact copy! 'This was too weird!' she thought.

Alex observed the stunned look on her face for several seconds. When she appeared to
have already spaced out the question, he asked again, "You don't like cactus plants?"

Dawn recovered only slightly. "Have we ever met before?" she asked.

Alex looked surprised at the change of pace, but answered, "Not that I know of." Then,
after a brief pause, "And I think I would have remembered you."

Dawn continued to watch him, trying to reconcile his familiarity and their lack of ever
having met before -- at least in the mundane world outside of dreams, visions, and pre-
and post-incarnations. Then she remembered the cactus. "Oh. I'm very sorry. I'm a
maladroit, and this kind of thing just sort of..."

"Yes, I know. I just didn't fully believe the extent of it until your demonstration."

The immediate implication to Dawn was Gil must have told Alex about her. She
wondered about the extent of their personal connection (in addition to the apparent
professional one), but somehow it seemed something better left to later. Instead, she
simply offered to clean up the mess.

Alex was more interested in Dawn and what her presence might entail. "Maybe later.
Right now, we need to talk. If you'd join me in my office..."

Dawn grabbed her purse from her luggage pile as Alex led her back through the foyer
and into an office which constituted most of the upper floor of the eastern wing of the
house. The room had a slightly lower ceiling, but was still over ten feet. It was well
appointed and afforded the same view to the south. It was, however, not as neat as the
main room. Two large arrays of bookshelves were stuffed with books, while two tables
were covered with papers, books and the guts of a stereo system. There was the
suggestion of organization in the room, but only a hint. It was very clearly a working
office with only one human on the planet privy to its secret layout.

With no reference to formality, Alex took a chair by his computer and made a gesture to
a straight backed chair adjacent to his desk. Dawn took the gesture as an invitation and
sat down, carefully and precisely placing the briefcase on her lap. With no preamble, he
asked for her driver's license. The request caught her off guard, but she obeyed after
only a moment's hesitation. Taking it from her, he quickly looked at it, and reaching
behind, turned on his computer.
"Do you know the exact time of your birth?" Alex straightened himself before the
computer and began calling up a program. Dawn watched the process, thinking the
question was very strange.

But somehow it also made sense in a very twisted-logic sort of way. "6:15 in the
evening."

"Place of birth?"

'The man won't even look at me!', she thought. Aloud, she replied, "San Diego."

Alex was already putting the information into the computer. "Navy brat?"

Not being one, it took her a moment to react. San Diego was indeed a Navy town, but
there was more to the city than just the august presence of the U. S. Navy. "No," she
replied curtly.

Laying her driver's license down, Alex, with one eye on the computer and the other on
her, began to ask questions. Personal questions, like the details of her relationship with
her parents and if either one of them was still alive, previous marriages (when, where
and why), personal preferences in career, health status, and the degree of her
domesticity. Dawn had slowly realized the man was checking her answers against what
he knew of her astrology. In his own very weird way, he was authenticating that she
was who she claimed to be. She felt his approach was a bit brusque and lacking in
hospitality, but she maintained her poise, answering each question. There was, however,
a distraction brewing, and it was more disturbing to her than any lack of formal
etiquette.

Dawn could easily, for example, have taken offense at the manner of his first degree
inquisition. She would have felt justified in being insulted by his lack of hospitality to a
guest who had gone through so much in the last several days. In addition, she could
also have been bewildered by the abrupt appearance of a man who had already
insinuated himself into her dreams. But none of these possibilities stood a chance
against the confusion and discomfort that arose from her being attracted to him.

As he continued to ask questions, she began studying him. Physically, he was perhaps
an inch or two shorter than Gil, and carried just a bit more weight, making Alex around
190 pounds. Alex seemed to have a physical strength and stamina considerably beyond
his mild mannered appearance. His neatly trimmed beard framed a somewhat circular
and youthful face -- he would never look old and gaunt as long as he retained his health.
His hair was brown, while the beard showed a clear hint of Irish red and occasional
strands of experiential gray. His eyes were... Dawn decided to forego an analysis of his
eyes -- that was a bit too risky. She would content herself with noting Alex was clearly
not some lightweight.

Then Alex stopped his computing. He began looking at her, something obviously
bothering him. Picking up her driver's license, he took a longer look at the photo on the
license. Suddenly, it hit Dawn what his problem was. Laughing slightly, she reached up
and whipped off her blonde wig.

Alex abruptly smiled. Then he almost laughed. "Thank God!" he said. "I've always
mistrusted blondes. Avoided them like the plague."

Smiling, Dawn asked, "Did I pass?"

"Oh, yes," he replied. "It looks like you're who you say you are. Unless of course, you're
about to take off the brunette wig and reveal that you're really a redhead underneath it
all."

"No," she answered, "This hair is attached."

"Great!" Alex's response was now more relaxed. "So. What do you have for me?"

"For starters..." Dawn began, sweetly, "Who the hell are you!?"

The turnabout caught Alex totally unprepared. Men are like that. But he recovered
quickly. "Oh. Yeah. We haven't really been introduced, have we? I guess I forgot."
Sheepishly, he added, "I've sometimes been accused of being arrogant. Or just a shade
insensitive."

Dawn couldn't resist mocking him. "No," she replied, strongly emphasizing her belief
that such could not possibly be the case. Then she added, "Arrogant? You?"

"I know," he replied, as if understanding her dilemma, "Really quite incredible."

Abruptly, he dropped the pretense. "First of all," he began, "I'm Alexander Dukas. My
friends call me Alex."

Something made her ask, "And your middle name?"

"Actually, Alexander is my middle name. My first name is Marcus."

"Really? Marcus Alexander Dukas. That's quite a name." Dawn rather liked it.

"It has its power moments -- but it also has it karma." Alex frowned good naturedly.

"And your initials are MAD."

Alex laughed sheepishly. "'Fraid so."

Dawn shook her head, delighting in the moment. "And how do you know Gil?"

"We've been friends for years. I know quite a bit about him, a great deal of which is not
common knowledge. I know his middle name, for example: Nash. As for other
possibilities..."

As Alex began to search his memory for other personal facts, Dawn remembered Gil had
told her his middle name only a week ago. She had asked early on, but he had made it
something of a game, turning it into a deep dark secret, making her promise never to tell
anyone. It was a promise she had ultimately made in what she had initially thought was
jest. But when the game did not end, she began to realize the knowledge of his full
name had some greater significance to it.

Having gathered his thoughts and with a certain deliberation, Alex said, "I know Gilbert
has a second wall safe behind his office pantry, that he uses a manual typewriter almost
exclusively, deals only in cash whenever humanly possible, and..." Alex hesitated, and
then said, considerably more gentle, "has recently found himself a very talented personal
secretary."

Dawn began to tear up. She had never had doubts about Gil's approval of her, but the
fact of her very private employer sharing his feelings with a friend made her feel very
good. Alex was clearly a good friend of Gil's, but Gil was very private! His telling Alex
about her was significant.

"The only thing I don't understand," Alex added, "is why Gil would send you here on a
simple letter-delivering mission. I would have expected him to show up here himself."

Dawn retained a degree of composure, but the tears began to meander down her face.
Very quietly, she said, "Gil's dead."

Alex was stunned. "What!?"

"He died from injuries in a plane crash."

For several moments, Alex could only look at her, not comprehending her meaning.
Then, visibly shaken, he muttered, "Oh no!" Turned away from Dawn, he looked out into
the space beyond the south-facing windows. The news had slammed into his gut like a
hammer, as if the results could be disastrous.

Dawn felt the disbelief, the trauma in Alex's mind. Gently, she explained, "The private
plane went down over Idaho. We were on our way to Lake Mach when it happened. A
helicopter from the Lake rescued us, but Gil was very badly hurt. He survived just long
enough to warn me and tell me what to do. But then he died early yesterday morning in
Seattle."

Alex was still struggling with the news. Then his mind inserted an alternate line of
thought. "A private plane... Was it sabotage? Did someone sabotage the airplane?"

"I don't think so," she answered. "But I can't be sure."

Alex then turned back at Dawn, studying her. "Are they after you?"

Dawn swallowed. She kept her head up, but her eyes down. "Yes," she said very
quietly.

Alex seemed to take the idea in stride. Looking out the window again, he matter-of-
factly said, "The Patrons don't like loose strings lying about. Very untidy."

Dawn tried to put a good face on it. "I don't think they followed me here. I went to a lot
of trouble to divert them to Chicago. Since then, I've used only cash. No credit cards or
anything else they could trace. I even stayed in the YWCA last night, and rode the bus
to Fort Collins."

Alex turned back to her, more appreciatively. "Gil must have trained you well." Then he
reached over to push an intercom button. To the intercom, he called, "Old Woman? You
there?"

"On my way," was the brief reply.

"We can come there," he added. When there was no answer, he decided the office was
as good as any other place. Then he became very quiet until the older female arrived.
Dawn watched him, thinking the two people must have some sort of agreement to
address each other in such a way -- as if their respective nicknames were terms of
endearment. But she said nothing.

When the old woman arrived, she sensed the somber mood immediately. Alex stood up,
and took her hands. Gently, she said. "Old Woman... The Earl... He's gone."
Dawn could detect almost no outward sign from the old woman. There was the sense
she was not entirely surprised, but a deep sadness nevertheless seemed to exude from
her.

"I suspected," she said quietly. "I had missed his presence."

"But you said nothing," Alex protested.

She looked up at her employer. "It wasn't time. A place had to be made for him. Even
though there is still something strange about it all..."

Alex seemed to relax with the answer, while Dawn could only wonder what the woman
had meant. Dawn kept looking at the old woman, until the latter turned to look back at
her. For a moment she seemed to bathe Dawn in a gentle tenderness, as if knowing the
grief the younger woman was going through.

"We will grieve later," she said to Dawn. Then, "You had a letter for Alex?"

Dawn accepted the change of venue, and opened the briefcase, still in her lap. Her
hands still trembling, the briefcase fell forward and dumped much of its contents. Dawn
uttered her standard expletive, but with frustration more than anger. The old woman
dropped to her knees to assist Dawn, while Alex sat back down. Amazed at Dawn's
ability to perform a clumsy in the midst of everything else, he said, "I always thought he
was kidding." Bleakly, he shook his head.

As Dawn and the old woman pulled it back together, Dawn retrieved the letter and
handed it to Alex. But the man was still watching her. Brazenly, he said, "Have you ever
considered..."

Dawn cut him off. "Don't even think about psychoanalyzing me as to why I'm a
maladroit!"

The rebuke was almost sufficient. "Okay." But then, "I do know a good therapist."

Dawn glared at him, as he at first flinched from her gaze, and then as a diversion turned
to open the letter. The old woman watched the exchange, and then looked at Alex. To
Dawn she said, "Men are so unconscious. It's a wonder they survive." Then she smiled.
"Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"

Dawn could feel the old woman's nurturing posture, but deferred. "I'm okay."

"We'll talk later," she replied. Then she turned to Alex, as if expecting a directive.

Without looking at her, Alex responded to the old woman's unspoken question. "She'll be
staying with us. Please make up the spare bedroom for her."

The old woman looked at Dawn, who returned her look. Then the unconscious male
picked up the signal. Looking at each of the women in turn, he finally managed to say to
Dawn, hurriedly, "I'm assuming you would want to stay with us. You're more than
welcome."

Dawn smiled and replied, "Now that I've been asked... Yes. I'd love to."

The old woman took Dawn by the arm, ready to make her comfortable in her new digs.
Alex, concentrating on the letter, dismissed them with the casual wave of his hand (and
just after they were out of sight of any gesture he might have made). As they reentered
the main room, Dawn noticed her luggage was missing. "It's in the spare bedroom," the
old woman said. "I made it up when you arrived."

Both of them stepped around the debris from the plant disaster, and took the stairs down
to the bedroom below Alex's. There Dawn was introduced to her private bath, closet,
etceteras; and when the old woman had left, the younger one began to clean up.
Obliquely, she smiled, thinking she could now wear her new dress, the one that actually
looked good on her. That thought then evolved into thinking about one of her other
notable experiences of the day -- the mutual attraction she had felt between Alex and
her. That would take some getting used to!
Justice Card

Chapter Eight

The old woman was in the kitchen preparing the evening meal when Dawn came
upstairs. Alex was nowhere in sight, and the plant disaster was still very much in
evidence. Dawn smiled when she saw the undisturbed mess and quickly picked up the
main bulk of the destroyed cactus. Handling it gingerly, she carried it to the kitchen
portion of the main room and showed it to the old woman. The housekeeper looked up
from what she was doing, and said, "She's a goner." Turning back to her cooking, she
added, "She had a good life, but now's the time to begin a new cycle. There's a compost
bin in the pantry."

Without asking directions, Dawn opened the kitchen door, where she found a large
pantry area and access to the washer/dryer room and garage. The compost bin was
obvious enough and Dawn carefully dumped the plant, saved the broken ceramic pot,
and set it on a shelf filled with odds and ends. A broom and dustpan were hanging from
a nearby wall which Dawn took and carried back into the main room. The plant had
made a wide swath across the room, but it was easy enough on the hardwood floor to
round up even the most elusive particles of the debris. Then, with her dustpan filled to
overflowing, she carefully carried it all back to the compost bin, replaced the broom and
dustpan and reentered the kitchen. Washing her hands in the kitchen sink, she turned to
the old woman. "Something smells wonderful," she observed.

The old woman smiled mischievously. "If you're hungry enough, most anything will smell
great." She looked at Dawn, who smiled and seemed to agree. Then taking a bit more
time to appraise the cleaned-up version of the recently arrived vagrant, she added, "Nice
dress. Quite an upgrade."

"Thanks," Dawn replied. "Can I help you Miss...?" Dawn stopped for just a second. "I'm
sure you have another name besides 'Old Woman'. What do your friends call you?"

"Down at the Sundance, I'm 'Hot Stuff.' At the grocery store, I'm 'Cranky.' At the..."

The younger woman laughed. "What did Gil call you?"

The old woman stopped her chopping of vegetables and turned to look at Dawn. "Gil
called me the same as Alex Baby. Except, of course, when he wanted to make a point.
Then it was Barb."

"May I call you Barb?"

"Sure. If you want to make a point." Then turning back to the vegetables, she asked,
"You okay with Gil's Death? Things like that can really catch you off guard."

Dawn stood totally still and looked at Barb for several moments. 'The old gal certainly
preferred the direct approach,' she thought. Then her eyes fell, as she tried to answer
the old woman's question. "It will take some time to deal with it. But I'm okay for
now." Barb continued to cut vegetables, but seemed to hang on every word the younger
woman was saying. In the continuing silence Dawn added, "I'll be crying at night a lot.
But I'll make it."

Barb stopped what she was doing and looked at Dawn. Then the old woman smiled.

After a brief moment of understanding between them, Barb turned to check two of the
dishes on the stove. As she did so, she said, "Gil had a good life. And the truth is," she
added, "it was his time. It's hanging around when the angel of death arrives that's bad.
Not to mention futile." Then she looked up, gazing off into space, "Still..."

Dawn looked up, not noticing Barb's momentary reverie. "I know he's okay. I don't fear
death -- I know there's something better on the other side. He just made a transition.
It's the people left behind who know the pain."

"It's what we used to call 'OJT', 'on-the-job-training," the old woman said. "People dying
constitute graduate work in the art of letting go for those who are left behind. It's the
toughest part, but also the most essential. We all have to learn to let go, particularly to
let go of life."

"You're probably right." Dawn then repeated herself, "Can I help with dinner?"

"Not much more to do," was the reply. "Besides, it's going to be a feast, and I want full
credit. I don't want to have to share it with some lady-come-lately." When Dawn
laughed, Barb chuckled slightly herself. "Alex Baby gave me instructions this was to be a
special meal. Sort of a 'last supper', I suspect." Dawn flinched at the implication, but
Barb was already off on another subject. "How are you feeling about the situation?
Between you and the Patrons."

"Mostly numb." Dawn leaned against a counter, her arms folding across her chest in a
self-protective posture. "They're clearly after me, and I can sense just how dangerous
they are. But I don't understand why. I don't really know anything about them, or what
motivates them. It's as if I could be murdered and never even know why someone
would bother. It's a little frustrating and a whole lot scary."

"There's a lot of senseless crime going around these days," Barb replied, taking a
moment from the cooking to look at Dawn. With a hand on her hip, the old woman,
confided, "The Patrons are into power and control, plus which they have no respect for
human life. If you’re even the slightest threat, or might be, then from their
viewpoint, why not just get rid of you? If they're wrong about you're being a threat, it
doesn't matter. You're still expendable. Why take the chance?"

"But that assumes they can get away with murder."

"Apparently, it's not that hard," Barb replied, stopping her activity momentarily in order
to think about it. "There's a statistic from New York State -- something to the effect that
for every 1000 homicides there are 300 arrests, and only about 160 convictions. Even
assuming that some of the convictions are for multiple homicides, the result is that fewer
than 20% of homicides actually result in someone being convicted. There are a lot of
killers getting away with it these days."

"You're kidding."

"No. Not at all. Finding a killer is extremely difficult. The police claim that in the vast
majority of homicides, the murderer is known by the victim. But that's only because the
chances of them finding the real killer -- the one not known by the victim -- are next to
nil. Actually, it's a self-fulfilling, statistical prophecy. They assume it's always someone
close to the victim, and since they're only getting those convictions, the statisticians find
that most of the solved crimes are, in fact, between related people. But if you factor in
the 80 to 85 percent of the unsolved crimes, these crimes may primarily involve
unrelated killers getting away with it."

"That's grotesque."

"I agree with you, but it's also true."

"But how in the world could I be a threat to the Patrons?"

"Because of Gil and what he might have told you. Because of the letter you gave Alex
Baby. And because of the things you might do in the future." Barb smiled, and took a
long appreciate look at Dawn. "Personally, I suspect you're not only a threat to the
Patrons, but you're going to become their worst nightmare." For a moment, the old
woman simply looked at Dawn, emphasizing the importance of the message.

"That's rather hard to imagine." When Barb only shrugged her shoulders, Dawn begin to
think about how much truth might be in the statement. But before she could come to
any definitive answer, Alex entered the main room from his office, went directly to the
kitchen telephone and began disconnecting the telephone, caller identification, answering
machine, and computer links. Using a single line, he then plugged the telephone itself
directly back into the jack.

Dawn had been watching the whole process. "What are you doing?"

"Disconnecting the modem and fax. This old telephone is now our only link with the
outside world, and it's too old to be of concern."

The answer wasn't sufficient for Dawn. "I don't understand."

Alex released a heavy sigh, and then a long, slow breath. "We don't know if they've
managed to put it together yet, but it's inevitable that if a computer can link everyone
with the Inter Net, then that same net, at some point, is going to be able to download
everything on any individual's computer. We do know that the central computers are
already querying the individual computers for file names whenever anyone logs onto the
inter net and are then checking to see if the individual is a registered owner of all of the
software on their computer. That was one of the innovations of the much ballyhooed
new software a few years ago -- which included the programming to allow it query each
computer without the individual computer owners knowing about it.

There's no doubt in my mind, but that eventually, if they're not already capable of doing
it, the central computer will be able to listen in on what's happening in someone's home
even when their computer is off. In fact, the new Digital televisions, which will be the
only television in a few years, will undoubtedly have the capability of being a transceiver
-- listening in on the household and transmitting the information as well as receiving.
This telephone, on the other hand, is old enough that it's extremely unlikely that it
contains the electronics whereby anyone could electronically listen in on our
conversation."

Dawn was amazed. "You really think that's a possibility even now?"

Alex shrugged. "Oh yeah. Plus which, they could be doing wide scan monitoring even
now looking for key words. And I'm not exactly a wallflower when it comes to
questioning authority."
"I have a better idea," Barb suddenly interrupted, "Let's eat."

Alex grinned sheepishly. "I'll wash my hands."



The "last supper" was indeed an event. Dawn consumed the food with a vengeance,
being precise in savoring every bite, and at the same time, not allowing a single morsel
to remain undisturbed on her plate. Both Alex and Barb watched her with a certain
amusement, but neither made any comments on her obvious intent to eat them out of
house and home. Barb served desert when Alex and she had finished their meals, and
while Dawn was cleaning out each of the serving bowls. Her desert, she simply added to
the collection of different tastes around her. The conversation waned to the point of
extinction.

Dawn was still eating when Alex and Barb finished, and when the older woman
announced, "Hate to eat and run, folks, but they need me at the Sundance! The party
really can't start until I get there." Turning to Alex, she asked in a mock teenage voice,
"Can I have the Firebird, Dad?"

Alex laughed, and going along with the gag, said, "Okay, but have it in by midnight!"

Barb almost laughed in his face. "Yeah, right!" With that she left through the front door.

Dawn took the moment to say, "Nice of you to let her drive your car."

Alex looked at her for a moment, surprised. "It's her car," he replied. "Mine's a pickup."
When Dawn looked bewildered, Alex added, "Old Woman is something of a party
animal."

Dawn smiled at the idea, readily believable, and then returned to finish off her meal.
She found exceptional comfort in the last bite of desert (a luscious Lemon Charlotte
pastry), and then leaned back to savor the moment. Watching her, Alex commented,
"You must have been hungry."

Dawn smiled gamely. "I haven't had a real meal since Lake Mach."

"Ah yes," Alex replied, "Lake Mach. That must have been an experience."

"Strange place," Dawn agreed. Then she looked at Alex. "I was curious why they named
it Lake Mach. The only 'mach' that comes to mind is the one associated with the speed
of sound -- Mach One."

Her remaining dinner companion smiled. "More likely named after Machiavelli, or
machination, the art of secret plotting or scheming. Particularly the kind involving evil
intent."

"Machiavelli," Dawn repeated, thinking about the connection. "I hadn't thought about
him. He was a sixteenth century politician, wasn't he?"

"Oh yes. The mastermind who promulgated the rules for controlling the masses."

"That would about sum it up for The Patrons. You're right. Very appropriate name."
Dawn silently watched the man, as he seemed to be deep in thought, trying to make
connections where he had not done so before. She was also remembering something in
Gil's notes.

When Alex reached a point in his thinking where he appeared to be satisfied, Dawn asked
her question. "Wasn't there a scientist named Mach?"

"Yes," Alex answered, matter-of-factly. Then suddenly, his eyes lit up as he made
another connection. "Of course! Mach! Why didn't I see it before?"

Dawn had not made the connection. "So who is he?"

Alex returned to the conversation. In his best professorial tone, he began to explain.
"Mach was a nineteenth century German physicist. His argument was that acceleration,
or inertia, could only be defined within a frame of reference. It's like, in utterly empty
space, how do you know you're moving? Mach figured it was due to all of the matter in
the universe, in effect, inertia being defined with respect to the distant stars. Einstein
tried to incorporate what he called Mach's Principle into his general relativity, but failed
to do so. But more recently, a fellow named Puthoff and two others have tied the frame
of reference to the quantum vacuum. Their claim was that it was the vacuum which put
up the resistance to motion."

"And the vacuum is where the zero-point-energy is?" Dawn asked.

"Exactly," Alex replied. Then he seemed to realize he was not talking to a novice in the
area of modern quantum physics. His respect for the woman sitting with him took a
quantum leap (pardon the pun). With increasing enthusiasm he added, "You could even
theorize that the zero-point-energy, the source of all matter in the universe, is also the
source of inertia. It totally fulfills Mach's Principle. Of course," he added, with
considerably less intensity, "I don't know that anyone would name a place, Lake Mach,
just to honor an old physicist named Ernst."

Dawn knew she had Alex on a roll, and quickly took advantage. "Tell me about
microclusters."

Alex looked at her for several seconds, appraising the stranger so confidant in asking
questions. He was impressed. "You've been doing your homework," he acknowledged.

Dawn accepted the compliment with a smile, and added, "Also, spontaneous fission."

Alex laughed, partly surprised by her questions, and partly at his own failure to have
sized her up any better. He knew he would have to be straight with her, but there were
also some things he would want to keep out of the conversation. He would have to walk
a fine line. Fortunately for him, Alex didn't know Dawn could sense he was deciding just
how much to tell. But for the moment she was more interested in obtaining information.
Later, she would probe for more.

"Microclusters," Alex began. "Technically, microclusters are tiny aggregates of a material

consisting of from two to several hundred atoms. They are of interest because once
atoms are freed from the influence of the other atoms that surround them they begin to
reconfigure themselves in very unique and interesting ways. More importantly, their
physical characteristics change in a very fundamental manner. For example, electrical
conductivity might change dramatically as one enters the microcluster regime. It's as if
as one divides and subdivides a solid, the characteristics of the solid fade away. And
instead of being replaced by the traits of liquids or gases, they seem to represent a new
phase of matter.
"If you've ever taken chemistry in high school or college, you're probably operating under
a misconception. The representation for gold chloride, for example, is AuCl -- Au
representing gold and Cl representing Chlorine. But the reality is that gold chloride
almost never exists in this fashion, with one gold atom attached to a single chlorine
atom. In reality, you're more likely to have Au30Cl30, that is 30 gold atoms and 30
Chlorine atoms all connected in a huge conglomeration of atoms. Silicon atoms, as
another example, tend to congregate in knobby clusters of 45 atoms, while carbon
clusters comprise 60 atoms in a soccer-ball shape called ‘buckminsterfullerene’.

"The fascinating part is when you break down an element or a compound such that there
is only one atom all by its lonely -- the mono-atomic state, or in small groups of 2 to
several hundred -- the microcluster -- everything changes. Gold, for example, is a yellow
metal. You've probably heard of it. But in a mono-atomic state, for example, it's pure
white."

"You're kidding," Dawn interjected. "White gold?"

"Trust me on this one," Alex replied. "It really exists in the form of a white powder. The
key is if it's not yellow, no one thinks it's gold. But it is, and there are ways to show it."

"Fascinating."

"It gets better," Alex assured her. "All atoms, sub-atomic and elementary particles, even
whole galaxies of stars for that matter, move in time and space. A portion of this
movement is inevitably a spinning motion. As a physical concept, spin is perhaps as
fundamental a characteristic or physical property of matter as exists. In turn, the
spinning motion of an atom is inherently related to its stability.

"You asked about spontaneous fission of atoms. Imagine an automobile tire which is
slightly out of round. When it starts spinning faster and faster, it will tend to wobble,
even throw off chunks of tire. At the higher rotational speeds, the tire is extremely
unstable. You're likely to be throwing rubber all over the highway. The same is true of
an atom. And in a microcluster or mono-atomic state, the likelihood of an atom spinning
and spontaneously fissioning is even greater.

"When an atom absorbs energy, there are several things it can do with the excess
energy. One way to deal with it is for the atom to increase its spin. There are
constraints on this, including the influence of the other atoms surrounding the atom in
question. But in the mono-atomic or microcluster state, some of these limitations are
lifted, and the atom is much more free to spin, perhaps reaching an unstable state.

"Are you familiar with nuclear shell theory?"

"No," Dawn answered. "Not really."

"Okay," Alex replied, accepting the additional charge. "I'll have to back up a bit." Then
he looked at her for a moment. "Just let me know if this is too elementary for you."

"Just keep talking," Dawn replied, as she leaned forward, her intensity at the maximum.

Alex shuddered slightly, in the manner of a more experienced Red Riding Hood meeting
the Wolf in the woods. This woman was something else, he decided. But it was time to
forge ahead.

"An atom," he began, "consists of electrons, protons and neutrons. The protons and
neutrons, together known as nucleons, are concentrated in the nucleus and represent
well over 99% of the mass of the atom. The electrons orbit the nucleus in distinct shells,
at specific distances from the nucleus. This nucleus is incredibly small in comparison to
the orbits of the electrons. If the nucleus of a gold atom was a little over six inches in
diameter, the diameter of the atom would be on the order of one mile!"

Dawn let that one sink in, trying to imagine the dimensions.

Alex smiled. He had always enjoyed the one-on-one teaching situation -- especially with
a good student. Not to mention an attractive one. Forging ahead, he continued, "Within
the nucleus, the protons, and separately the neutrons, each fill their own set of shells --
just as the electrons do orbiting about the nucleus. Quantum physics require that each
particular shell can only have a specific number of nucleons, and this maximum number
can range from two to fourteen or more nucleons in a particular shell. The outermost
shells have the larger numbers, while the innermost shell is always limited to two
nucleons.

"When a particular shell is filled, that is, when there is a nucleon for each available niche
in that shell, physicists refer to the shell as a closed shell. Elements which have the
precise number of protons and/or neutrons to precisely fill an outermost shell turn out to
be enormously stable elements. They are, in effect, very symmetrical -- like a well
balanced automobile tire. But if an element has several nucleons roaming about in an
unfilled outermost shell, they are more likely to reach a very asymmetric situation.
Given enough energy, and thus a high spin state, the asymmetric rotation can have
dramatic results. Like throwing off nucleons, just as an unbalanced tire might throw off
chunks of rubber.

"Within a nucleus, there are two primary forces in operation. One is the attractive
nuclear force, while the other is the electromagnetic force. The latter is well known and
results in like charges (such as protons) repelling one another -- just as like poles of a
magnet repel each other -- while unlike charges (such as an electron and a proton)
attract each other. In the nucleus, there are only positively charged protons -- neutrons
have no charge -- such that the electromagnetic force in the nucleus is attempting to
break the nucleus apart. The nuclear force, however, is attempting to keep it together.

"A fundamental difference between the two types of forces is that the nuclear force is
much stronger, but acts over a very short range. If, for example, you have two protons
one Fermi apart -- a typical distance within the nucleus -- the electromagnetic force is
one hundred times weaker than the stronger nuclear force. In this case nothing
happens. But if these same two protons increase the distance between them to ten
Fermis -- perhaps due to the spinning motion -- then the electromagnetic force is about
ten times stronger than the nuclear force. And the protons fly apart. Spontaneous
fission."

Alex watched her for a second, trying to read her comprehension. She seemed okay, but
had a look of skepticism. The professor decided to continue. "Imagine a liquid drop
which is spinning. If the drop is composed entirely of nucleons, and some of the
nucleons in the outermost shell begin to congregate on one side of the drop, then the
centrifugal force will cause them to move away from the center of the liquid drop. Thus
the spherical drop will deform into something more the shape of a bowling pin. The little
chunk at the top of the bowling pin, once out of the range of the nuclear force, and very
much within the electromagnetic force range, will fly away from the larger mass of the
bowling pin."

"Let me see if I've got this right," Dawn interjected. "An atom off by itself -- monoatomic
-- or with just a few of its friends -- a microcluster -- is more likely to achieve higher
spins..."
"When it absorbs energy. Which can be from light, radiation, heat, whatever..."

"And if the atom has extra nucleons in the outermost shell of the nucleus,† Dawn
continued, “then the spinning motion will result in those nucleons being more likely to off
balance the symmetrical spinning motion of the nucleus. In this asymmetrical state, the
nucleons will move away from the main part of the nucleus until the electromagnetic
force of repulsion overcomes the attractive nuclear force, and the nucleus splits."

"Precisely," Alex replied, pleased with his student's grasp. "The atoms in what is called a
high spin state, deform, or more accurately, reach a state of Superdeformation. They
may then spontaneously fission, or in other words, achieve what is termed,
superasymmetric fission."

"I'll just think of it as a wobbly tire or a bowling pin," Dawn replied.

"Fine," Alex laughed. He leaned back as if he had completed a successful mission.

But Dawn was not finished. "But how does this relate to superconductivity?"

Alex's smile faded, but he kept at it. "High spin nuclei, in the presence of a magnetic
field, have been observed to transfer energy from nucleus to nucleus without any loss of
energy. This is, in essence, superconductivity. But superconductivity is far more.
According to one of the currently reigning theories of superconductivity, electrons
combine in what are called Cooper Pairs and carry energy in that form. But the
electromagnetic force implies that electrons should repel each other and be unable to
pair up. They seem to get around this by transforming themselves from particles, which
are called Fermions, into Bosons, or photons -- quantum bits of light. In what is called
Bose Condensation, one achieves what is virtually a nucleus surrounded by light instead
of electrons."

"I thought superconductivity was something you encountered only at very low
temperatures, like those temperatures near zero degrees Kelvin, absolute zero?"

"That's the traditional wisdom," Alex replied, "But there's nothing to prevent
superconductivity at room temperatures. Remember, the microclusters? The internal
temperatures of a microcluster of atoms are in the range of 20 to 100 degrees Kelvin. In
effect, as you proceed from normal matter into the realm of microclusters, the internal
temperature of the atoms decreases. Thus a di-atomic element -- just two atoms -- has
an internal temperature of around 10 degrees Kelvin. At the ultimate extreme, a mono-
atomic element's internal temperature drops to something like 1 degree Kelvin. And yet
the external temperature surrounding these atoms is room temperature. Therefore, you
get superconductivity at room temperature."

"Oh my heavens," Dawn exclaimed. "Going to the mono-atomic form of the element
automatically implies superconductivity!"

"Not necessarily," Alex cautioned. "You might be able to obtain superconductivity with a
microcluster as well -- what some are referring to as an ORMUS. In addition, you also
need an external magnetic field in order to initiate the phenomena." As Dawn smiled
broadly, he added, "Remember we mentioned the zero-point-energy? The zero-point
refers to zero degrees Kelvin -- that's where the zero-point-energy resides!"

"Good grief," Dawn added, "It all ties together."

"But there's one more thing," Alex replied. "One very important thing." When Dawn
gave him a look of profound skepticism, he smiled. "Other research has shown that
living systems have all the characteristics of superconductivity. Cells quite literally
communicate via superconducting means. It may be that superconductivity is
fundamental to life, allowing consciousness to tap into the zero-point-energy!"

Dawn was momentarily speechless. Alex leaned forward to make his point even more
emphatic. "Better yet, an attribute which virtually defines superconductivity is something
called a Meisner Field, a non-polar magnetic field -- in other words, a magnetic field
without poles. Meisner Fields repel all other magnetic fields, such that no other magnetic
field can exist within a Meisner Field. But more importantly, Meisner Fields have the
ability to instantaneously communicate with each other. From a philosophical viewpoint,
all Meisner Fields are One!"

"The holistic paradigm," Dawn whispered, hardly daring to voice the truth any louder.

"Exactly," Alex assured her. "Superconductivity's Meisner Fields connect the universe!"

Dawn was now appearing incredulous. "That's incredible," she said, not really believing it
was indeed not credible, but that it was simply too profound to readily accept.

"There's another very important wrinkle," Alex said, with a slight twinkle in his eye.
"You're probably aware of the fact -- and there is a lot of good scientific evidence being
accumulated to support it -- electromagnetic radiation from everything ranging from
electrical power lines to desktop computers can be seriously detrimental to health. At
the same time, there is also a great deal of experimental evidence that the proper use of
magnets and magnetic therapy seems to be capable of curing all sorts of diseases --
everything from arthritis to hemorrhoids, from cancer to Aids! The jury is not yet in on
this one, but if superconductivity does not occur initially without external magnetic fields,
it seems likely magnetism and superconductivity are part and parcel of there being
healthy organisms. One might even conjecture that the earth's magnetic field is, in
some fundamental manner, connected to health issues. We do know, for example,
subtle magnetic fields are often more effective than higher intensity magnetic fields."

Dawn suddenly looked perplexed. "I've read some of what you're saying about magnetic
fields and health. But how do you tie this in with mono-atomic elements or
microclusters?"

Alex became serious for a moment. Taking more care in being precise, he replied,
"Recall that elements in their mono-atomic or microcluster form are the most likely
elements to exhibit superconductivity. The scientific evidence strongly suggests that if
one can acquire certain elements ideally in their mono-atomic form, these elements can
be taken internally, and as they are absorbed by the body, create superconductivity
between the cells. In the process, the mono-atomic elements effectively cure most
everything. In effect, the cells of the body are being subjected to light flowing
throughout; clearing out every tumor, damaged cell, and biologic flaw from the matrix of
cells. These elements could be the ultimate cure!"

"Has anybody tried this?" Dawn was incredulous, but eager for it to be true.

"Yes, and it's been successful on a small scale. There is even a group of researchers
working with what they call the ORMUS, which has precisely these intentions. But
everyone has to be very careful."

Now Dawn was simply mystified. "Why? I'd think this would be incredibly important."

"It is incredibly important," Alex replied. "But for many people, it's their worst
nightmare."
Dawn suddenly recalled Barb's words, where she had suspected Dawn might become The
Patrons' 'worst nightmare'. Dawn shook her head slightly. "I don't understand."

"Take cancer, for example. There are now more people making a good living off treating
and researching treatments for cancer than there are people dying from the disease.
From the viewpoint of the American Medical Association, the absolute worst thing
that could happen would be for someone to come up with an all-inclusive cure for
cancer. Look how many people you'd put out of work! Worse yet, the people losing the
highest paying jobs would be the medical doctors and administrators -- precisely the
people who are paying the dues to the AMA -- dues intended to protect the membership's
interests!"

When Dawn looked skeptical, Alex added, "Do you remember when the Salk vaccine
came out? The March of Dimes had developed itself into a huge organization, with its
sole purpose to find a cure for polio. Then, when the cure was indeed found, the
extremely well paid executives of the March of Dimes found themselves in a quandary --
They were no longer needed! They had status, power, and money from using their
talents to raise funds for the search of a cure for Polio, and suddenly, they were
superfluous. It's my understanding there was a serious discussion on whether or not to
disband the March of Dimes -- the argument being they had accomplished their mission
and it was time to call it a day. But in the end, they simply switched to another disease
-- in this case, birth defects. The problem of birth defects was a more all-inclusive
medical problem, and thus less likely to be quickly eliminated as a fund-raising
motivator. The lesson the medical community learned from this was that one didn't
really want to cure a particular disease. They only wanted to develop expensive
treatment programs."

Dawn's reaction was cautious and disbelieving. "They would suppress a cure for cancer?"

"The medical hierarchy already has," Alex answered, matter-of-factly. "Everything from
Essiac, Gaston Naessons work, Cansema, etceteras, etceteras. Anything that has been
shown to work in thousands of allegedly terminal cases but where the people simply
recovered are ignored or suppressed. Any authoritative investigation into a promising
technique is simply prohibited. The AMA, for example, has automatically rejected any
and all cures. In this country, the AMA is, in fact, the greatest threat to our health.
They'd happily resort to murder in order to protect their incomes. And they've done it
before."

"The AMA is a murderer?" Dawn was now blatantly skeptical.

"Well," Alex began, "there are two ways of looking at it. On the one hand, it's the
instinct for survival. Economically, they suffer real losses if they don't suppress the
cure. Plus which, while I don't know that members or executives of the AMA have
specifically ever pulled a trigger on someone who came up with a cure, the fact remains
that they have associates -- other knee-jerk reactionaries, people without any moral
inhibitions -- who would readily kill someone, just in order to maintain control of the
status quo."

"Like the Patrons," Dawn interjected.

"Exactly. Think of the AMA cartel as a 'wholly-owned subsidiary' of The Patrons. The
AMA, in response to the threat occasioned by someone finding a cure for cancer, may
take independent action against the threat, unaware of the larger picture. Or they may
turn to someone like The Patrons -- either to inform them of their actions, or to request
their assistance. The people coming up with the cure are still subjected to death threats
or actual deaths from one or more sources.
"But whichever is the case, the fact of the matter is that the AMA, by blindly resisting
alternative cures for cancer, has effectively sentenced millions of people to death. That
would constitute murder in my book. And you can bet The Patrons are part and parcel of
the suppression process -- they want to maintain the status quo, which includes people
dying of cancer." Alex stopped to gauge Dawn's reaction.

She watched him for several seconds, sensing the earnest sincerity of his feelings.
Quietly, she responded, "I have some trouble with seeing such a hideous conspiracy."

Alex took a deep breath and leaned back. "Don't think of it as a giant conspiracy. Many
people do despicable things out of personal fear, malice, just plain stupidity, or what I
call 'willful ignorance'. They may have no hint of the bigger picture, or conspiracy.
Economics, for example, plays the biggest part.

"For example, all medical doctors have an inherent conflict of interest. If they cure a
patient, they lose the source of revenue that ailing patient represents. The only saving
grace for most of us has been that the AMA has taken extreme measures to limit the
number of doctors in practice by controlling with an iron hand the medical school
enrollments. This has resulted in doctors having all the patients they can handle, and
consequently, curing a few patients provides for good public relations, and at the same
time does not really represent a loss of income to the still busy medical doctors and
administrators.

"By the way, keep in mind I'm talking primarily about chronic illness -- everything from
cancer to allergies -- diseases which just keep hanging on and never seemed to get
cured. On the other hand, acute medical emergencies -- the kind handled by emergency
rooms -- are dealt with much better. The emergency medicine in this country is really
quite excellent. They buy the time for the immune systems to do their job."

"Look," Dawn countered, "I have some doctor friends, and I really can't believe..."

"It's not the average doctor we're talking about," Alex quickly added. "The average
doctor has to contend with laws and regulations promoted by the medical establishment
-- just in order to practice and not incur enormous liabilities. It's the powers that be that
are the bad guys. It's the medical establishment that stays in power because so many
people are paying so much money just to stay alive. It's also the Patrons, the ultimate
authority who view the masses as a threat to their own security, and who have no
compunction in allowing millions to die a horrible death."

"But powers that be can only stay in power if the individual doctors acquiesce."

Alex frowned. "I can't find that much fault with many of the individual doctors I've come
in contact with. Working within the medical system is difficult at best. And they can't all
be martyrs -- although many of them are very quietly going against the grain. The
problem is that if they openly balk at the garbage coming down from on high, it's over
for them. They're out of the profession, legally hounded if they even think about helping
others, and end up being able to do nothing."

"What about the health maintenance organizations? Aren't they out to save money?"

"Absolutely. But the emphasis is on saving money and not on curing anyone.
Meanwhile, the insurance companies are ripping us off, hiding funds, and perpetuating a
monstrosity."

"I'm sorry," Dawn insisted, "I don't think we can blame physicians and nurses for what is
our own responsibility to maintain our health. We can't even blame the AMA."
"I agree with you," Alex replied. "It does sound a bit like Scapegoatology" Both
smiled, as Alex continued. "First of all, I would never complain about nurses -- they've
always been into curing people, and there's certainly never been an incentive for
someone to go into nursing because of the money. I also suspect that women, in
general being less greedy than men, would make better M.D.s"

"Naturally," Dawn agreed, gleefully.

Alex smiled at the comment. Then, he became more serious. "I also agree that every
person is ultimately responsible for his or her own health. But when authorities such as
the AMA and the Patrons go to the extreme lengths they've gone to in order to prevent
people from having access to ways to cure themselves... That's another issue entirely.
People can cure themselves, if they just have access to the truth, and if the AMA and
others like them will just get out of the way."

"Be that as it may," Dawn countered, "I've never been too keen on seeing conspiracies
in every turn of the establishment. It sounds too radical for me."

"Let me give you example outside of medicine," Alex argued. "A friend of mine, a
professor at a major university, was doing work on what was at the time known as "cold
fusion."

"That refers to the work by Pons and Fleischman begun in 1989," Dawn added.

"Exactly," Alex replied.

Suddenly Dawn had a thought. "Is cold fusion for real?"

"No question," Alex replied. "It's probably mislabeled, for there's no doubt the two
chemists were tapping into the zero-point energy. The observed, so-called fusion was
just a by-product. As of today, there are dozens of potential methods in the works for
achieving unlimited energy from techniques such as cold fusion. At the same time, most
work in the area is being suppressed. The establishment is doing everything in its power
to prevent the fruition of any and all lines of research."

"But there really is all of this free energy there?" Dawn kept struggling with the idea.

"Absolutely. But it constitutes such an enormous threat to all the dinosaurs. Whether
they've spent a lifetime, as some have, working on hot fusion -- Tokamaks, plasma
physics and the like -- or working for any of the so-called energy companies, utilities, or
simply people who hate change in any form; then the implications of free energy are
extremely scary."

Alex began to grow more intense -- a deep hurt beginning to surface. "There's a friend
of mine who was one of the most respected scientists in the country. He carried the title
of 'Distinguished Professor' at a nationally recognized university. When he began his
work on 'cold fusion', twenty seven of his fellow 'Distinguished Professors' at the
university accused him of 'practicing Alchemy' and thus violating the taboo of
transmuting elements.

"That, of course, just demonstrated their ignorance. Science has been transmuting
elements -- practicing alchemy -- in a variety of ways, from nuclear fission bombs and
power plants, fusion bombs, the sun, to biological transmutations, to particle
accelerators -- where among other things, brand new elements can be created. But this
gang of twenty seven 'Distinguished Professors' was too stupid to even think about that!
In fact, they couldn't even adhere to proper grammar in their accusatory letter to the
university's administration! They pulled everything they could to crucify my friend,
based on his so-called crime of 'practicing Alchemy'. Even if what they said had been
true, what's the problem? 'Practicing Alchemy!?'

"But they drew up a set of charges, and when those were dismissed, they managed to
force audits on all of my friend's research projects over the last twenty five years. The
people who had granted the money for the research didn't care about having an audit on
their funds, but these..." Alex's voice became very sarcastic, "Fellow scientists and
colleagues felt compelled to harass my friend. It was bad enough the university
conducted the audits when the grantors of the money could have cared less, but they did
it with such a vengeance. They absolutely consumed the man's time, just answering all
of the inane questions!"

"Well... My friend hung in there, survived all their crap. Until..." Alex's face became
deep and drawn. " Until the heart attacks began..."

"Your friend had a heart attack!?"

"No," Alex answered, suddenly calm. "It was much stranger than that. He was
presenting a paper at a scientific meeting, when a member of the audience, another
scientist, a colleague of his, died of a heart attack during my friend's presentation.
Without warning, the fellow just keeled over dead. A medical doctor was at the meeting,
but he told me later there was nothing that could be done. The man had been dead
when he hit the floor. I was there at the time. It was incredible. Suddenly, a
disturbance in the back of the room, chairs shuffling, and then someone calling for a
doctor. Then an effort to revive him, the doctor trying mouth-to-mouth breathing,
pounding his heart... All for nothing."

Dawn flinched at the emotions she was receiving from Alex. But she also wanted to help
in some way. "I don't really believe in coincidences, but you can't really blame your
professor."

Alex turned to look at her, his expression bleak and sad. "That was the first time. When
it happened twice more, in two subsequent presentations at two other scientific
meetings, my friend sort of lost it." Alex's face showed the effects of the emotional
turmoil revisited, tears welling up in his eyes. "There was absolutely no significant
connection between him and the heart attack victims, no conceivable link between his
presentation and the deaths -- but my friend still felt responsible. For him it was a
professional death. He retired shortly after the third incident." Alex's voice faltered for
just a moment. "I don't know how they did it, but they forced him out." Alex pulled out
a handkerchief, held it in his hand, but then seemed to forget about the small white
cloth. His head fell, as he leaned back.

Dawn was feeling his deep emotional pain, frustration, anger, and sadness. Quietly and
earnestly, she said, "I'm very sorry for your friend..."

Alex rallied as soon as she spoke. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I took us off on a tangent."
Regathering himself, Alex spoke in a more abstract voice. "My point had been that
academic freedom in this country no longer exists. It hardly exists anywhere else in the
world, for that matter. Everything is so tied to money -- for research grants, program
funding, and so forth -- there's no longer any freedom. When I left the university, it was
in part because of the blinders on the so-called scholars, the holier than thou attitudes,
the departmental straight jackets on what was acceptable research and what was not.
Since then there has been the politicians with extreme right or left wing agendas
completely subverting the process of scientific inquiry. This doesn't even include the
bureaucratic bullshit and the total inability of the vast majority of university professors to
even entertain the possibility of an open mind. My friend's crucifixion was simply the last
straw."

"Do you think there ever was academic freedom?" Dawn asked.

"I think so," Alex said. "Of course, it might just have been naiveté on my part when I
was younger." Then he turned back to her, more in command. "The point I had meant
to make was that the AMA going to any lengths to protect their interests, does not
necessarily have anything to do with the lack of academic freedom and the inability of
most university professors to open their minds. In the latter case, their status is based
on what they know, and God forbid they should have to learn something new!"

"Reminds me of something I once learned in a history class," Dawn replied, as she began
to grasp Alex's point. "Someone did a senior paper on whether or not history could be
changed. Her thesis was that if some new evidence was uncovered conclusively proving
some part of history had to be modified, would it be changed? In other words, would the
reigning historians allow it? I remember the idea being interesting as a concept, but
then when I saw the professor in charge of the class attack the student unmercifully,
attempting to destroy all of her examples and in general, humiliate her -- I realized her
thesis had been proven. History can't be changed, even if the evidence is
overwhelmingly in favor of it. At least, until the next generation takes over. All of the
old guard has to die off first."

"And why do you suppose they call them, 'the old guard'?"

Dawn grimaced. "Because they resist incursions, change, progress..."

Alex looked glum. Then he smiled cynically. "The Supreme Court of the United States
several years back, ruled a guilty verdict could not be overturned after the fact if the only
reason to overturn the verdict was that the so-called guilty person could now be proven
innocent!"

"You're saying people don't change easily," Dawn replied, beginning a smile.

"Exactly." He returned her smile. "And of course, the Supreme Court, the AMA, the
historians, the academic community... They don't have to all be in some giant
conspiracy. They merely need to be going about the task of defending their territory at
all costs. I suppose some of them might be unwitting parties to a larger conspiracy, but
it's not essential. They can just be small-minded, fearful persons., each doing his own
wretched suppression of truth -- oblivious to any larger conspiracy that might exist."

"And who end up destroying others in their quest," Dawn replied, her voice now
saddened.

"Or in the case of Pons and Fleischman -- the men who began the 'cold fusion' revolution
in physics and chemistry -- they were eventually forced to relocate to France, in order to
continue their work. In effect, they were 'exiled'. Somewhat more humane, but that's
the best you can say of it."

"There doesn't seem to be a lot of Justice in the world," Dawn added. "No sense of
fairness, impartiality, or anything to ensure people receiving what they deserve."

"It's about education," Alex replied. "Learning the truth. Recognizing what's real." His
voice became serious. "The stuff we're dealing with; the AMA will kill in order to
suppress it."
"You really believe they would resort to murder to stop a cure for something like AIDS?"

Alex smiled slightly. "Actually, they might really try to cure AIDS. The stuff is so
contagious the doctors themselves could come down with it. And it's not the kind of
disease with which you're going to make a lot of money. Or one where you are fairly
assured you'll live long enough to enjoy it. Cancer, on the other hand, is not contagious.
It's the perfect money-maker!"

"My God, but you're cynical!" Dawn was smiling when she said it.

Alex reflected only a second. "I'm realistic. Experience has taught me people will
commit all manner of atrocity in the name of defending themselves -- whether it be to
defend the status quo, their status, power or money, or just because they fear any kind
of change. Eric Hoffer once wrote a book called The Ordeal of Change. For a lot of
people, that about sums it up."

Dawn sat still, wondering about the man to whom she had turned for rescue, trying to
decide if he could be right. "Is that why the AMA was so against Clinton's health plan?
Because they would have lost some of their income as doctors?"

"There never was a health plan," Alex corrected. "There was a health insurance plan. No
one talked about how to make people healthier -- only how to pay for the medical
procedures which claimed to help. The medical establishment would have continued to
rip off their patients."

"The whole thing is really rather depressing," Dawn commented.

Alex suddenly laughed, as he remembered something. "I saw a statistic once which
showed medical doctors had a much shorter life span than the average person in most
any other profession. It occurred to me if the medical doctors are dying a lot faster than
the rest of us, why are we taking their advice? Obviously, they don't know much about
how to live themselves!" Then he just smiled.

The two of them sat for a few more moments, thinking. Dawn then asked one more
question, partly in jest, and partly because she thought it might be important. "Barb...
Old Woman called this meal, the 'last supper'. What do you suppose she meant by
that?"

Alex looked at Dawn, his surprise at the idea, plainly obvious. But Dawn also sensed she
had struck a nerve, and that the man was now procrastinating -- hurriedly trying to come
up with an answer. Finally, he said, "I never try to understand Old Woman. She's way
beyond me." When it wasn't clear Dawn was going to accept the answer, he deferred it.
"I have some urgent work I need to do before morning. If you'd like to watch a video,
there are several lighter-hearted ones..."

"No thanks," she interjected. "I'm in for an early night."

"That's good," Alex replied, the relief on his face a trifle too obvious. "Things could get
busy again very soon. You're going to need all of your energy."

With that, Dawn excused herself, said good night, and walked out of the room. All the
while, she kept wondering about the evening's discussion. She could now see very
clearly why she might be in danger. Somehow, through her connection to Gil, she was
now suspected of having information that could force a radical transformation onto an
unwilling medical profession -- costing a lot of people, a great deal of money, power and
status. The Patrons, themselves, clearly would be defending the status quo -- including
the medical research log jam -- and might find her existence an untenable threat. If
there was the possibility of an incredible breakthrough in medicine, her life would be very
much in danger. It was something of an ironic twist, when she thought about it: The
one with the cure was the one in danger.

Still... Dawn could not quite believe this was all there was to it. Her sense Alex was still
holding back, was very strong. There was a lot more to the story, a lot more yet to be
told. Then she remembered something and mentally kicked herself. She had wanted to
ask Alex about the Humanki, and had forgotten to do so. It seemed a good bet they
were also heavily involved. Probably in everything.



It was raining heavily at Denver International Airport, and the brand new roof was
leaking. The unique, architectural wonder of the otherwise empty plains hadn't quite
mastered the trick of shedding or diverting water and keeping the interior dry.
Numerous residents of the Denver metropolitan area mumbled under their breath (and a
few made wry comments aloud) about the $10 billion price tag of the facility and the fact
that surely one or two of those billion could have been spent on a rain proof roof.

The professor from Golden was not one of those complaining. Such mundane matters of
taxes and politics were not part of his busy schedule. And on this particularly rainy
night, he had other thoughts on his mind: The School of Mines Professor was on hand at
DIA to meet some VIP. It was rainy and miserable weather outside; he had arrived late,
and the plane was even later. The professor might have deferred the honor of playing
host to the VIP, but it had been made very clear to him that his source of research
funding was rather dependent upon this display of hospitality.

But all things eventually come to those who patiently wait (the unofficial motto of the
airport). The professor, weary and a little bit disgusted, was at the gate when the plane
finally arrived. When he met his party, his enthusiasm was dampened even further, as
three men came off the airplane -- two very mean looking and in a foul mood to boot,
and the third, a tall, dark abrupt man with a threatening smile.

"Professor Hanly, I presume," the third man said.

"Yes. And you're Mr...?"

Kurt ignored the formalities. "You have the information we requested?

The professor was suddenly horrified. "No," he replied, his confusion apparent. "I mean,
yes! I just don't have it with me. I was only told to meet you here, and to provide
anything you needed. I didn't know I was to bring anything." When the man looked
more than a little put out, the professor added, "I can get anything you need tomorrow
morning -- or whenever you need it." The professor was uncharacteristically eager to
please.

The man considered the idea. "Perhaps it's just as well. We'll spend the night in a hotel,
and you can bring us the information first thing in the morning." Without any fanfare,
Kurt turned and began walking down the concourse, the others taking their lead from
him. The professor had enough brains to catch up with him and walk alongside, while
the two, unintroduced men walked a discreet distance behind. Kurt continued to walk as
he spoke to the professor. "We'll need a rental car to take us to Fort Collins tomorrow
morning. Arrange it."

The professor said nothing in reply and only swallowed, trying to digest his hopefully
temporary reduction in status. It was going to be a long night.
The Moon

Chapter Nine

After a long and blissful sleep -- she had been dead to the world for some 12 hours --
Dawn returned to the main room to find Alex preparing breakfast in the kitchen. The
table was set for two, with only the best silverware and china; placemats, napkins in
silver napkin rings, and the smells of gourmet omelets.

Alex smiled his best smile as she came into the room. Dawn could not help but smile in
return. The implications were obvious. No man would ever go to this much trouble, be
this nice to a woman unless he was looking for a very big favor. The more trouble he
went to, the bigger the favor. It was this kind of action which illustrated the basic
difference between men and women. When men did something nice, it was inevitably
based on their focusing on solving some sort of problem. Women on the other hand did
it purely for the sake of relating. Clearly, the female motive was the "pure" motive, and
the man's motive... Well... Let's just say Dawn, in the best traditions of her gender,
wisely declined to prematurely interrupt Alex's plans or discourage him from setting
Dawn up to be forever in his debt. Instead, she decided to enjoy the attention as long as
possible. Afterwards, she could always say, "No." He would be disappointed, but it
would be good training for him.

Dawn definitely took advantage of the moment. The omelet, fruit and pastries were
delicious. The company and smiles were perfect. The ambiance was everything for
which she could have hoped. But then as the moment arrived, Alex began clearing off
the dishes by himself, insisting she remain seated. Dawn mentally braced herself. As it
turned out, she needn't have.

Before Alex could mention the first item on his personal, previously undiscussed agenda,
Old Woman showed up quite unexpectedly. Alex was very surprised. "What are you
doing here?"

"I decided you would need me to convince Dawn to do what you wanted her to do," Barb
answered matter-of-factly. Dawn smiled, while Alex was clearly dismayed. He might
have attempted a defense, but it was abundantly clear the women had already united in
a common front. The disadvantage belonged to Alex. Dawn even took Barb's hand to
demonstrate solidarity as the older woman sat down.

Acknowledging a measure of defeat, Alex sat down and began explaining the situation.
He was still going to try and pull this off. "The letter you brought me from Gil, provided
instructions on transferring a very significant amount of money from a bank in Los
Angeles for purposes of funding a very important and very secret project. Gil has spent
the last six or seven months in acquiring the funds from several wealthy individuals who
have a lot of faith in him. Gil accomplished this in secret and right under the Patrons’
noses. If they discovered the plan, they’d be more than a little upset.

"Unfortunately," Alex continued, his tone carrying the subtle message he was now
traversing considerably thinner ice. "The money transfer required his signature. Gil had
intended to have my name as a backup, but because of the need for extreme security
measures, we weren't able to pull it off before now. He did, however, manage to arrange
for your signature to be honored."

Dawn was more than a little surprised. "What!?"

In the short silence, Barb felt the need to intervene, to make things clear. "He needs
your signature in order to get the money. Otherwise, he's dead in the water. He needs
you bad, honey!"

Alex was clearly offended at Barb's insinuation. "Give me a break, Old Woman! I'm not
trying to pull some kind of scam here. This is important! A lot is riding on it!"

"Clearly, it's important to you," the old woman said, matter-of-factly.

Alex became more intense. "It's important to the world!"

Barb turned to Dawn, sharing a confidence. "Men really get into this sort of thing. If
they're not out saving the world, it's something else. But always, it's terribly important."

"I know," Dawn said, readily agreeing with her new-found mentor. "Men are like that."

Alex mentally threw up his hands. "You make me sound like some kind of ogre!"

Barb replied, as if it were obvious, "You're a man." That seemed to say it all.

Both of the women laughed, while Alex backed off and regrouped. Then he took another
tact. "Gil has devoted himself to this project. I would think you would..." Barb's look of
abject disapproval immediately deterred him from continuing this line of argument
generally catalogued at the Library of Congress under 'sleazy'.

Dawn, however, ignored the attempt. In a professional tone, she asked, "What project?"

Alex dodged the question. "The less you know, the safer you are."

Barb guffawed, while Dawn was direct. "I'm about to be a party to the embezzlement of
a great deal of money from the Patrons, who would kill me in a minute just to tie up
loose strings, and you tell me I'll be safer if I remain dumb? I repeat, what project?
Why should I do this?"

Alex took a deep breath, again trying to defuse things a bit. "We're not embezzling any
money. That would violate a basic set of ethics which we are not about to do. The
people who provided the money knew exactly what they were doing, what they were
funding, and why. They also expected complete confidentiality -- they have their own
concerns about others discovering the nature of projects which they’re supporting. Also,
anytime a significant amount of money starts to get moved around, the Patrons seem to
think they should get a cut. Usually about fifty percent."

"How much money are we talking about?" Dawn's question was direct and to the point.

"About fifty million."

"That's a nice chunk of change," Barb commented, tilting her head to consider it.

Dawn was more skeptical. "You want me to sign over fifty million dollars to you for some
unknown project. In the process, I will likely incur the wrath of the Patrons, and if I'm
not in enough trouble already, I can expect them to want to cut my throat more than
ever. And if I assume the project involves these mono-atomic elements which cure
everything, I can then look forward to the AMA and the medical establishment trying to
surgically remove my head as well."

Alex replied, sheepishly, "That's about the size of it."

For a brief moment, Dawn recalled a portion of last night's dream. The Moon had been
full, the soft moonlight transformed a deep forest into a gentle, inviting place to rest.
And yet, Dawn had sensed in the moonlight that much was unrevealed, hidden factors
not apparent, and a strong need on her part to exercise caution. Even now, Alex was
keeping critical factors to himself. But, perhaps, not for long. Her eyes twinkling, she
said, "Tell me about the project." Barb put her elbow on the table and rested her chin in
her upraised hand. They both looked at Alex, equally expectantly.

Alex hesitated. He had not wanted to get into this with someone he didn't know. From
her relationship with Gil, she might be trustworthy. But what would happen if things
became rough and she came under pressure? Like someone suddenly showing up at his
doorstep?

Someone like Kurt and two of the world's finest point-blank negotiators -- who were at
that very moment driving through Fort Collins, armed with the address supplied by a
professor from Golden. The two men sat in the front seat, while Kurt sat in the back
alone. A small lap-top computer provided him with a listing of the characteristics of the
scientist he was on his way to see. Alex would be an interesting man Kurt had begun to
realize. But such interest would probably be fleeting, Kurt suspected.

Alex, blissfully unaware of the man some ten to twelve miles away analyzing his past,
smiled at the two women sitting at his breakfast table with him. Deciding he had made
the attempt "for-the-record" to keep things simple, he now felt sure things were not
going to be simple. Leaning forward in his chair, his arms on the table, he looked
directly at Dawn and began, "It's called the ORME Project. ORME stands for Orbitally
Rearranged Mono-atomic Elements. We're dealing, not with microclusters -- or with the
potentially simpler ORMUS products -- but with their logical extension, mono-atomic
elements -- just as you surmised. By converting certain metals into their mono-atomic
form, we have achieved in living tissue evidence of superconductivity. The
superconductivity effectively converts electrons into photons, i.e. matter into light, and in
the process cures cancers, AIDS and other immune deficiency diseases, even corrects
DNA at the cellular level. We've also cured several more exotic diseases, and fully
expect to be able to cure most anything. Thus far, however, our research has been on a
small scale. The elements are being produced in their mono-atomic form on a laboratory
scale -- just barely enough for our immediate needs.

"The problem we are facing is two-fold: One, we need to produce the full-fledged ORME,
the mono-atomic form of these elements in sufficient quantities to be able to conduct
extensive experiments and collect enough data for a track record on the beneficial
effects. Two, we must be able to give this stuff away. The latter will allow us to avoid
the wrath of the AMA for as long as possible. If we were out selling the stuff, we'd be
shot down immediately. But if we're giving it away, not charging anything for the
product or service, then it's a great deal more difficult to shut us down. The pipeline, for
one thing, does not have to be controlled.

"The fifty million dollars will provide the financing for a production effort capable of
turning out 500 to 1000 million milligrams a day. Typical dosages are in the realm of ten
to fifty milligrams a day, so that once in production, we can cure a lot of people! But we
have to have the money first!"
"And you're going to have to give it away?" Dawn was skeptical.

"Yes," Alex answered. "It's the only ethical way to go about it. How can one have the
capability of healing people and then deny them the cure because of a lack of money? In
addition, it's the only way the guy that developed this process will allow. It's a
philosophical requirement."

"And you need fifty millions dollars to do this?"

"Maybe not the total, but close enough," Alex assured her. "You should realize a portion
of the money will go into the cost of taking the project underground, keeping the thing
secret and out of the public eye. If the AMA, the Patrons, the drug companies, or any
number of other organizations get wind of this; we will run into more trouble than you
can shake a stick at. The only thing the public or the Patrons will see is the stuff showing
up everywhere."

Dawn smiled. "I forgot about the drug companies. You could put them out of business
-- something I'm sure they wouldn't be too happy about."

Barb had her own question. "How can you get the stuff to people if it's all so secret?"

"King David has already pretty much taken care of that," Alex replied.

Dawn asked, amazement in the tone of her voice, "King David?"

"Oh," Alex answered. "The guy's not really a king. But his name really is David
Hudson. It's just that most everyone on the project calls him King David. He believes
he was descended from the biblical King David, and there are a lot of other connections
between him and the name. But we don't call him King David to his face. I don't even
think he knows about our little nickname."

Dawn shook her head at the answer. She started to speak and then changed her mind.

Barb was not as hesitant. "And how does 'the King' plan on marketing ye olde ORME?"

"He's set up a network of people and organizations who are into alternative medicines.
Some of the people are pretty far out, but there's a strong core of some pretty solid
people."

For several minutes, everyone was quiet. Then Barb brought up a touchy subject.
"What about that professor at Cornell, who went public with news about the mono-atomic
elements?"

Alex frowned. "He apparently died in a private plane crash enroute to some conference.
But as far as we know, there was no foul play." When neither woman bought the simple
explanation, Alex added, "Admittedly, it's possible the man was simply murdered. But
we don't know that."

Barb turned to Dawn. "The reality is you're going to be getting into this a lot deeper. If
someone is already out to eliminate you, it might not make that much difference. You'll
just have more than one person or organization coming after you." Dawn seemed to
accept the logic, and Barb continued. "I'm reminded of that movie with George
Hamilton, where he played a gangster named Bugsy. I seem to recall his girlfriend
getting away with a lot of the mob's money, but it was Bugsy who got killed."

Alex shook his head and asked, "What's your point?"

Barb spoke directly to Alex. "The lady might need to have someone along for the ride,
someone to risk his life with hers, to run with her if necessary, and help her buy the time
necessary for the ORME Project to get up and running. A man with a vested interest,
who believes in the project, and who would be willing to take the same kind of chances
he might ask of someone else."

Alex looked back at Barb. Turning to Dawn, he saw she was also very interested in his
response. He continued to watch her for several moments, considering the idea of being
on the lam with a woman he hardly knew. The real key, he decided, was whether or not
she would be someone he could trust in a pinch, someone on whom he could rely. In the
back of his mind, he realized the need for someone to take over Gil's mission in addition
to everything else. The mission he hadn't even mentioned in the discussion with Dawn --
and in fact, the subject he was not eager to address. At least not yet. In any case, the
"someone to take over Gil's mission" could easily be Dawn and Alex! It made a certain
amount of sense.

As Alex considered Barb's pointed suggestion, and slowly came to grips with the
implications, Kurt was looking around at the scenery on Redstone Canyon road. But
instead of seeing the beauty, he was simply wondering why Alexander Dukas had chosen
to live this far from civilization -- in particular, this far from any number of law
enforcement agencies which might respond to an emergency call.

Not yet thinking about emergencies, but with deadly seriousness, Alex was considering
the challenge he had been offered. After several long moments, he answered, "Okay.
I'll go with you."

Dawn had been watching him, probing his intentions, using her intuition to sense the
reason or reasons behind his decision. She could feel his sense of commitment, but
there was still the feeling he was holding something back. Perhaps, it was quite a lot.
Speaking slowly, she said, "I really don't have a major abandonment issue, but how do I
know you won't bug out on me at the first sign of trouble?"

"Because," Barb quickly interjected, "he knows if he did, I'd come after him myself."
Then, with ever greater intensity, she added, "And I know where he lives!"

Alex turned to look at the old woman and the clear, serious intent on her face. He
smiled, deciding Barb may have convinced Dawn of his intentions more than he would
have ever been able to. Then he turned back to Dawn. "If there was a way you could
simply sign some papers, duck out of sight, and then let me take the heat, I would. But
I really don't think the bank is going to transfer fifty million dollars if one of the principals
is not there. Plus which I don't think you'd end up being any safer. Once the money is
transferred, and the Patrons get wind of it, they are not going to be making any fine
distinctions about degrees of guilt or exactly who is responsible and why."

All the signals Dawn was intuiting from Alex and Barb were encouraging her to say yes.
Dawn needed allies, and even if the risk was increased, her chances were still improved if
she had friends. Something Gil had once said to her, suddenly seemed to ring in her
mind: "The only viable Social Security left on the planet is who your friends are." Dawn
knew she had to unite with these other people, just in order to survive. It would also
allow her to honor Gil's last request of her. That was important.

"Okay," she said, her voice strong and clear. "We go meet your friends, you show me
everything there is to know about the ORME Project, and then, if I'm satisfied, we go to
the bank in Los Angeles. After that, we drop out of sight together -- perhaps take an
extended holiday in a galaxy far, far away."
Alex was a little surprised. Not at her agreeing, but at the conditions she imposed. But
before he could voice any objection, Barb concluded the negotiations.

"Excellent plan!" she announced. "Then it's agreed! First to Phoenix, an audience with
King David, a tour-de-force of the ORME, and then when you're satisfied, on to LA!"

"Wait a minute," Alex objected. "What are you doing?"

Barb made it simple for him. "We just agreed."

Alex looked at her, turned to Dawn to see her smiling her own agreement, and then
countered, "Well, I didn't agree."

"No matter," Dawn replied. "I can go to check out the project by myself, and then if I'm
satisfied, meet you in Los Angeles." Turning to Barb, she asked, "You said Phoenix?"

Barb smiled. "Right." Then, with a mischievous wink, she added, "Here's your schedule.
I've already made all the arrangements. You fly out of Colorado Springs at two o'clock."

"What?" Alex was dumfounded.

"That's really the reason I came by early and speeded up the discussion," Barb
answered. "I knew you had a plane to catch." Then her smile broadened as she said,
"And I also knew, that left to your own devices, you'd take forever getting to the point. I
had a dream last night that time was of the essence. That it was not time to dilly-dally.
As for Colorado Springs, the airline tickets from there were a lot cheaper. Plus which I
have an old boy friend there I've been wanting to drop in on."

"Okay by me," Dawn replied. Standing up, she added, "Time for me to go pack." With
that, she left the room. Alex was still in a state of shock, while Barb was fully enjoying
herself seeing Alex in his stunned condition. It was a rare and amusing moment.

But then, as Dawn closed the door behind her, Barb's smile faded. "You realize, of
course, there's the distinct possibility that neither one of you will survive."

Alex looked at the old woman's intense stare. "Very much so," he replied.

Suddenly, the sound of a loud crash was heard from the other room. It was followed by
Dawn's cheery voice, claiming, "Don't worry! I'm okay!"

Alex looked at Barb, horror on his face. "I'm going to be trusting my life to her!?"

"Yes," Barb replied. "And don't come home without her!"

"But she's a maladroit! She could drop a bomb on my foot!"

"And you're an arrogant male who has not been entirely honest with her." As Alex
retreated from Barb's assault, she continued. "What about the Humanki? Or the
Consortium for that matter? You aren't going to be a popular fellow with the Consortium,
and quite possibly not with the Humanki -- whoever they are. But I guarantee that if the
Consortium gets wind of this, and they very well might with all their connections to The
Patrons, they are going to be just as unhappy as the AMA, the pharmaceutical industry,
and everyone else! As a matter of fact, if my theory about that Cornell Professor is
correct, the Consortium could be even deadlier!"
Alex watched the old woman with whom he had developed a very deep relationship. He
had always considered her to be the very wise woman, someone he could totally trust.
In addition, he had always admired the manner in which she could penetrate to his
depths and never miss a beat. Her track record for accuracy would have been the envy
of any prophet. "You're right," he admitted. "I'll tell her about the PM Consortium when
we get to Phoenix. She'll have to know."

As he stood up, the old woman stood as well. They hugged each other for a long time.
Then as fate would have it, they were interrupted by the signal from the remote control
on the gate. Barb immediately stiffened. Alex, feeling her response, stepped back and
went to the small panel that controlled the gates. Sliding a small panel to one side, he
looked at the TV signal from the concealed camera at the gate. A large beefy man was
approaching the gate, with the apparent intent of manhandling it. The car behind him
had at least one other person, the driver.

Alex turned to Barb, whose face was deadly serious. "I'll get Dawn," Barb said. "You
grab your emergency bag, and head out the back way and take the Rist Canyon road."

"What about you?" Alex's concern was very evident.

"I can take care of myself," she replied. "As far as I know, you're off to Louisiana for
three days. By the time they figure out I'm lying, I will be long gone myself." Abruptly
her tone changed from reassurance to commanding. "Now go! I'll leave a message for
you in Phoenix if it turns out to be a false alarm, and we can all have a laugh. If not, just
do what you need to do."

Alex was about to argue with the Barb's plan, when on the video monitor at the gate he
saw the man pull out a large pistol and take aim at the gate's lock. Alex had an
instantaneous response, even before the man pulled the trigger. "Plan B! We're out of
here now!" Barb bolted for the front door, while Alex yelled into the intercom, "Dawn!
Emergency! We have to leave now! I'll meet you outside the garage!"

Her response over the intercom was immediate. "On my way!"

"Seconds count!" Alex emphasized. "Run!"

"I am!" Dawn yelled back.

Alex turned and ran for the kitchen door. Grabbing his "emergency bag" (personal
effects, one change of clothes, and a bundle of cash), he dashed for the garage. The
garage door was already opening, as he started the truck and began to pull out of the
garage. Barb's car was already gone, only a cloud of dust evidence of her departure
down the back road. Alex stopped the truck in the driveway, and turned to look for
Dawn coming out of the front door. In the few brief seconds of waiting, his mind
considered the reasons why Dawn might not be there -- from having stopped to go to the
bathroom to having gotten lost in the house. When she did bolt out of the front door,
running toward him, she was carrying her purse and overnight bag. Alex frowned,
thinking that a woman who would stop for luggage was someone who was not fully
appreciating the gravity of the situation.

As Dawn leaped into the cab of the truck, Alex stomped on the accelerator and began
driving rapidly down the road, following Barb. The driver and gunman in Kurt's car, now
coming up the hill saw the flash of the truck as it turned tail and ran, shielded in part by
the dust stirred up by the rear wheels. Without orders, the driver accelerated as well,
while both his passengers braced themselves for the chase.
At the bottom of the hill and the rear entrance to Alex's property, Barb had already
opened the rear gate, gotten back into her Firebird and taken off again. Alex pursued
her with a vengeance, the truck now keeping within about thirty yards of the Firebird.
Both vehicles were racing along the mountain road as fast as the curves and narrowness
of the road would allow. But with no exits or turn outs along the road, they were unlikely
to shake Kurt's limousine from their tracks. Unless, of course, "Plan B" worked!

Barb led the two other vehicles around several curves on an increasingly steeply sloping
side of the mountain. Then, rounding a corner, where on one side of the road the
mountain reared its ugly head, and on the other, the ground fell away to the rocks and
trees far below, Barb slowed down. Then pushing the remote control which released the
lock on her hatchback, she hit her brakes. The result was the Firebird's hatchback
springing up to its fully raised position, and simultaneously, a great deal of dust being
raised.

Coming around the same corner, Alex slowed as well, and yelled, "Hang on!"

Dawn grabbed on as best she could just as Alex swerved the truck to one side, causing it
to skid sideways along the road. The front of the truck promptly hit the trunk of a pine
tree on the mountain side of the road, while the rear of the truck slammed into the pine
tree's twin on the cliff side. Alex barked out, "Follow me!", flung open his door -- which
was now facing toward Barb's Firebird -- pulled out his emergency bag along with him,
and began running down the road. Dawn slid across the truck's front seat, and carrying
all of her luggage as well, raced after Alex. At the Firebird, Alex threw his emergency
bag into the back seat, turned and grabbed Dawn's overnight bag as she reached the
rear of the car, and tossed it into the back seat as well. Then Dawn and he leaped into
the back seat and trunk area, throwing themselves head first. Barb floor-boarded it
again, causing the hatchback to slam shut (but not lock), and a massive amount of dust
and dirt to go flying. With the hatchback flapping in the breeze somewhat, Alex and
Dawn hung on to anything available as the Firebird took yet another corner at high
speed.

Right behind them, Kurt's limousine came barreling around the corner, and belatedly saw
the truck blocking the road. With the mountain to one side and an airy oblivion on the
other, the driver had no alternative but to simply hit his brakes and slam into the truck.
The sound of a solid collision reverberated in the dry mountain air, allowing even the
three fugitives to hear. Meanwhile, in the limousine, everyone was thrown forward.

Fortunately or unfortunately, depending on your viewpoint, no one was seriously hurt.

The driver had just about defecated in his pants, but in the immediate aftermath could
only manage to take a deep breath at what might have been a very serious accident. His
head enveloped by the now deflating air bag, he decided to concentrate on letting his
heart return to its normal functioning. The gunman was less psychologically affected by
the crash (it generally took considerable physical trauma to even get his attention), and
immediately tried to get out of the car, wrestling slightly with his own now slowly
deflating air bag. The passenger side door was jammed and partly buckled, but with a
strong and practiced arm, the gunman managed to manhandle the door and get it open.
However, by the time he was standing outside the car, there was nothing to see but
dust. To that point, none of the occupants of the limousine had even been aware of the
second vehicle. Consequently, all were a little surprised.

Kurt's surprise, however, was quickly turning to rage -- a controlled rage, but
nonetheless a rage. Coldly, he picked up his mobile telephone in order to try to salvage
the situation, and possibly cut Alex and the others off at the pass. But his computerized
briefing notebook was giving him no information of Alex having access to any other car
than the truck now in front of him. When it became apparent that Kurt had no real leads
or options on how to pursue his prey, and that his own vehicle was immobilized (steam
from the limo's defunct engine was making it clear that the vehicle wasn't going
anywhere anytime soon), Kurt could only resort to plotting his revenge.

In the Firebird, there was a different kind of party -- primarily in the form of jubilation.
Alex was practically bubbling over. "Unbelievable. The plan actually worked!"

Barb, glancing in her rearview mirror, asked, "Was there any doubt in your mind?"

"Absolutely amazing," Alex replied, still wide-eyed at their success.

Dawn was joining the other two in their victory celebration, when another thought
occurred to her. Gently she voiced what might have been a slight downer. "In case they
have a mobile phone, how long do you think it will take them to put out an all-points
bulletin on this vehicle?

Alex was blasé about the idea. "It's Barb's Firebird. How would they know about it?"

"If you've ever paid her a salary, and included her wages on Social Security, Workmen's
Compensation, or other form, then they might be able to guess her presence and trace
us from that."

Alex and Barb both smiled. Then Alex explained. "It's always been cash between Barb
and me. We're not into the paradigm of documenting all of our financial arrangements
for the IRS."

"Of course," Barb added, "That pretty well eliminates Alex as our next Attorney General."

"That's okay," Alex replied, smiling. "I've never been one for national politics."

Suddenly Dawn grinned. "You guys are really something. I'm impressed."

Barb laughed. "I think you should be. Although I must admit it was Alex's idea."

Alex was all gallantry. "But you must admit, Barb: you pulled it off with exceptional
skill."

"Yes," Barb reluctantly admitted, "I handled it really quite well."

All three laughed as Barb came to the cattle guard which served as the dividing line
between the landowners' road and the public dirt road leading to Rist Canyon. At that
point, all three were feeling pretty good, and totally unaware of the coming storm to be
visited on Alex's home.

While Barb and the others were sailing down the mountain curves of Rist Canyon, Kurt,
his driver and bodyguard/enforcer were trekking back to Alex's house. The mobile
telephone had failed to function in the narrow canyon where the limousine had rammed
the truck, and there had been no other alternative than to walk back to the nearest
telephone. It was a moderately short walk, but sufficient for Kurt's sense of revenge to
dominate his thoughts.

At the house, the gunman quickly arranged for a car to pick them up, while Kurt started
the driver on the task of gathering every piece of information available from Alex's
computer, files, and papers. Kurt then began the process of arranging for others to
arrive and go through the house with a fine toothed comb.
By the time the second limousine had arrived to pick Kurt and the gunman up, Kurt had
received word that the computer operators back at Lake Mach had failed to come up with
a single lead on whose car the second getaway vehicle had been. It was the final straw
in Kurt's being thwarted at every turn.

Just before leaving, he gave specific orders that, once the house had been thoroughly
ransacked for any and every piece of information, his men were to then burn the house
down. Revenge was very important to Kurt.
The Chariot

Chapter Ten

After the dash to Colorado Springs and a bumpy flight, the arrival at Flagstaff was a
delight! Arizona was already hot and dry in mid June, but at an elevation of nearly 7,000
feet, Flagstaff was still cool. Dawn deboarded the jet airliner feeling good, despite the
brief near-miss at Fort Collins. She could now take a deep breath, and feel encouraged
by the efforts of her guardian angels. (She had always assumed she had more than one
guardian angel, primarily because she needed them. Probably something on the order of
a small battalion.)

As she and Alex walked along the concourse toward the main terminal, she asked, "How
long will it take us to get to Phoenix and your friends?" She had not felt free to talk on
the airplane.

"Not sure," Alex answered. "Two or three hours, I imagine."

The answer surprised her. "Why so long?"

"Phoenix is about 140 miles from here," he said.

Dawn was perplexed. "I thought Flagstaff was a suburb of Phoenix, or at least close by."

"Nope," Alex replied. "Flagstaff is in the middle of the upper half of Arizona while
Phoenix is in the middle of the lower half. We flew to Flagstaff, just in case someone was
monitoring our activities. In fact, Old Woman bought tickets all the way to San Diego.
Your home town, in case anyone locks on to Alex."

"Smart," Dawn agreed. "But how do we get to Phoenix?"

"A friend who lives in Sedona is supposed to meet us and take us down by car." Alex
looked around the immediate area. "I hope we didn't miss her. She's a bit of a kook."



The "kook's" name was Koco. With the enthusiasm and eagerness of a teenager given
access to backstage where she would be allowed to kiss her favorite rock star, Koco
came charging down the concourse toward them. When he saw her, Alex ducked behind
Dawn, using the latter as a human shield to thwart the initial onslaught. The tactic
worked as Koco had to slow her blitzkrieg assault, dodge Dawn and then jump into Alex's
arms -- the latter occurring with one tenth the momentum she had carried in her initial
dash toward them. All the while, she kept saying, "Arby, Arby, Arby!"

Not to be outdone, Alex answered, "Koco, Koco, Koco." The triple threat then gave him a
big kiss on the cheek, and bounced back to see the woman he was with. Her smile and
excitement were contagious enough to receive the undivided attention of the Disease
Control Center in Atlanta.
Bubbling all over herself, she asked, "Who's the lady!?"

Alex was gallantry itself. "Koco, this is Dawn Riordan. Dawn, this is Ms. Pelli."

Dawn was about to say something, but Koco was way ahead of her. "Riordan!?" she
exclaimed. "Hey, that's a big name in these parts! Not to mention LA. You related?
One of the rich Riordans?"

"I don't think so," Dawn replied. "But it's very nice to meet you anyway."

Koco gave her a wink. "Well you may think so now, but you just wait!"

Dawn turned to a smiling Alex, who said, "She's right. You ain't seen nothing yet!"

Dawn laughed, while Koco latched onto Alex's arm and the three of them began walking
again. Dawn shook her head, wondering why she kept attracting some of the weirdest
traveling companions on the planet. Between Fat Man and the scared shitless lady on
the Seattle flight, the political activist on the bus in Denver, the taxi driver in Fort Collins,
and now, Koco... Dawn frowned internally. 'What,' she wondered, 'is there about me
that brings these people into my life? Am I that weird myself?'

Koco didn't give her time to think about it. "I never thought," she began, "when I moved
to Sedona, I'd be involved in so much fun. Being the ferry between Flagstaff and
Phoenix has really been a trip! I tell you, I've never been a fairy before, even in my two
thousand and fifty lives!"

Alex smiled. "I'll bet you were an elf once!"

"Oh sure," she answered. "Probably even an elk. In any case, the chariot is right
outside!"

Koco's "Chariot" turned out to be a close relative of a monster truck -- a full sized, King
Cab Dodge Ram, equipped with every option known to the automobile industry, plus a
few trinkets of Koco's own imagination. Everything from speed control and jump seats to
a ten disc CD player and oversized V-10 engine. It was the closest thing to a Batmobile
she had been able to buy on the open market. And in keeping with its intimidating and
arrogant nature, it was parked by the front door in what was obviously a no parking
zone, immediately adjacent to the absolutely, definitely, "don't-leave-car-unattended"
area.

Alex could not help but ask, "How do you get away with parking in a no parking zone?"

Koco smiled confidentially. "They wouldn't dare give me a parking ticket!"

Suddenly, Alex remembered. "Oh yes. I remember now." Immediately, he shied away.

Koco slung open the passenger side door, and told Dawn, "Just throw your bag behind
the seat. We're all going to ride in the front seat where it's cozy."

Dawn, taking her at her word, threw her bag into the space behind the seat. With the
extra weight of the gold Dawn still had in the case -- of which she had not yet told Alex
-- the result was pretty much what you would expect. The tinkle of delicate glass being
broken fulfilled all such expectations, but otherwise had little effect on the three
witnesses to the act. Two found the phenomena quite ordinary, and the third person was
only connected with the planet on Thursdays. This was not a Thursday.
As Dawn and Alex crawled up and onto the truck's front seat, a police officer approached
them. True to form, he not only did not give Koco a ticket, but they did a high-five slap,
clearly acknowledging their camaraderie, a friendship extending many years back.

Alex smiled. "Koco has a unique relationship with the local law-enforcement agencies."

"Apparently," Dawn said. She was about to follow up on the subject when Koco joined
them in the cab, revved up the hundreds of horsepower in the oversized engine, and
began roaring away from the curb.

Then, there was Koco's driving style to arrest one's attention. It appeared as if Koco was
oblivious to the idea of paying attention to one's driving -- not actively controlling 'The
Chariot', but rather just along for the ride, depending upon the Universe to keep things in
balance. Dawn watched in initial amazement, and then relaxing for no good, apparent
reason, she noted, "You seem on good terms with the local police," Dawn said, in her
best conversational tone.

"All a matter of respect, honey," Koco confided. "Ever since I hit them with the
difference between Common Law and the Uniform Commercial Code, they haven't
dared to cross me."

Dawn was intrigued. "What's the difference?"

Alex, recognizing the inevitability of the full-fledged answer, audibly groaned.

Koco ignored the distraction, eager to explain to yet another potential disciple, the nature
of her mission in life. "The essence of Common Law," Koco began, "is that there must be
an injured party. You can't get a speeding ticket under Common Law because no one
was damaged. In Common Law, one can do anything they please, as long as they don't
infringe on the life, liberty, or property of someone else, or break an agreement with
them."

"Sounds reasonable," Dawn commented.

"It is," Koco replied. "But in the Uniform Commercial Code, which was illegally foisted
upon our nation many years ago, it's altogether different. In Common Law, a contract
must be entered into knowingly, voluntarily, and intentionally. In the UCC, it is
presumed or implied that you intend to meet the obligations of a contract, even if you
don't know about it! The Feds came up with the UCC in order to issue worthless money,
what the legal eagles call 'colorable' money. Colorable means something that appears to
be genuine, but ain't. And it's that kind of crap that's used in all our courts now.

"Except," Koco gleefully informed Dawn, "I don't allow any court to use the UCC against
me. I demand Common Law, and I get it!"

"Can you do that?" Dawn asked, already caught up into Koco's charisma.

"It's all about Remedy and Recourse," Koco continued, "Remedy is a way to get out
from under a law, while Recourse is a way to recover any losses from having been
damaged under that same law. And in UCC 1-207, you can reserve your right not to go
along with the UCC. But if you don't show an intention to reserve your right, you lose
that right! Consequently, on the identification I use for driving, just under my signature,
I write, 'Without Prejudice UCC 1-207'. That's all there is to it!"

"You're kidding," Dawn said. "You just ignore the law?"

"No," Koco replied, "I reserve my rights under Common Law not to buy into the Uniform
Commercial Code! Think of it this way. If you got a letter from the German government
saying you owed German income taxes, you wouldn't dispute the amount! You'd claim
you were not under their jurisdiction. That's all I'm doing: Claiming I'm not under the
UCC jurisdiction. And by Common Law I have that right. The result is no speeding or
parking tickets, no victimless crime crap, and so forth. It goes on and on; it’s
wonderful!"

Dawn turned to Alex. "That's amazing."

Alex grinned. To Koco, he asked, "How are the Refounding Amendments coming along?"

"Great!" Koco reported. "California has a bill now, and once they take the plunge, other
western states like Montana will quickly follow suit. Even Colorado and Arizona, I'll bet."

Dawn suspected it was risky, but she had to ask. "What's a Refounding Amendment?"

"Oh, you'll love this," Koco answered, "Essentially the sovereign state of California, or
whatever state passes it, decides to sever from the United States. The state refounds
itself, repudiates the national debt of the U.S., and goes its own way. And since
California represents about 15% of the nation's gross national product, where California
goes, so goes most, if not all, of the western states."

"What about the eastern states?"

"They can do the same, but they're not as independent as we are. They're still expecting
Uncle Sam to take care of them. Despite the fact the old guy's been bankrupt for
decades!"

"This is really incredible," Dawn said, in typical understatement format.

"I'll get you some literature when we get to Phoenix. I've a bunch of it behind the seat,
next to the... broken glass." Koco smiled sheepishly and momentarily quit talking -- a
rare event in itself.

Alex took advantage of the lull. "I'm going to get some Z's." With that he laid his head
against the door and closed his eyes. Koco did not want to disturb him with her talking,
and abruptly decided to concentrate on... whatever she did to occupy her mind while
supposedly driving. Dawn went along with the voluntary silence. It was then she
noticed the surrounding scenery.

The highway from Flagstaff to Phoenix is one of the better descents on the American
Road. Flagstaff is located on a high mesa, which covers most of Northern Arizona and
slopes down to both the eastern and western borders of the state. Just south of
Flagstaff, the mesa falls off in steep, high redstone cliffs to the valley floor below. The
road from Flagstaff to Sedona, for example, is only 25 miles long, but drops nearly 2700
feet in elevation in a series of twists and turns down the mountain side alongside the
turbulent Oak Creek. Interstate 17 between Flagstaff and Phoenix, on the other hand,
takes a much more leisurely descent, all the way down to Phoenix’s elevation of roughly
1100 feet. And whereas the Sedona route has the scenery reminiscent of mountain
roads in the midst of trees and rocky crags, the Phoenix highway is one of constantly
changing vistas. With the slope always in your favor, the trip is effortless and delightful
to the eyes.

Alex enjoyed the Flagstaff-Phoenix Highway more than most and kept at least one eye
partially open. Dawn was aware of his non-sleep, alert status, but was enjoying the
quiet herself. And with the temporary cessation of conversation, she could better enjoy
the scenery.

Once they hit the outskirts of Phoenix, however, Koco felt comfortable talking out loud.
"The court will be pleased to have their Red Baron return to them," Koco suddenly
announced.

Dawn smiled broadly, as she asked, "The court!?"

"Oh, yeah," Koco replied. "We're dealing here with royalty. There's King David, his wife,
the Queen of Everything, or QOE for short. The Princess of Cups, also known as Sisi; the
Duke, whose last name really is Duke. And, of course, Herr Alex, the Baron. I call him
the Red Baron, or R B for short."

"That explains your greeting at the airport," Dawn said. "I just thought you were
hungry."

Koco laughed uproariously. As she regained control, she said, "Lady, I like you. You're
funny!" To Alex she asked, "What shall we call her? How about the Court Jester?"

Alex laughed at this one. Then he sobered. At the same time he kept smiling, as if the
idea was somehow appealing. "That would make her 'The Fool,' wouldn't it?"

Dawn felt slightly offended, but Koco leaped on the idea. "Of course!" To Dawn, she
said, "'The Fool' is great! That will give you license to take 'The Fool's Journey'!"

Dawn was still confused. "Why is 'The Fool' great?"

"It's the Tarot," Koco explained. "'The Fool' represents the beginning of things, initiation
into the esoteric mysteries. As a person, it's like Forest Gump. The guy has all the
appearances of being stupid, but he has more success than anyone. In the Tarot, 'The
Fool' is also the end of things, the philosopher -- someone like Lao Tzu!" Koco glowed
with the idea. "Wow! This is fabulous!"

Dawn turned to Alex. Meekly, she asked, "Who?"

Alex answered easily. "Lao Tzu was a sixth century B.C. Chinese philosopher -- along
with Buddha and Jesus Christ, one of the big three. He's responsible for the Tao Te
Ching."

"And 'The Fool's Journey'?" Dawn asked.

"'The Fool' starts out," Alex explained, "as totally naive, wandering around without a care
in the world, essentially too inexperienced to know any better. Then he goes through all
the trials and tribulations of life, experiences all of the highs and lows, meets magicians,
emperors, high priestesses, death, pain, transformation... Anything and everything you
can think of. Then, at the end of his journey through life, he once again becomes 'The
Fool' -- living like Forest Gump, but intimately aware of why he can live in such a relaxed
way. He now chooses with full understanding to live that way, allowing the universe to
take care of him."

"Oh," was Dawn's immediate comment.

"It's a great honor to be 'The Fool'," Koco insisted. "You'll see."

For Dawn, the more relevant issue was 'The Fool's Journey.' Glancing at Alex, she
wondered, 'Can two people go on a Fool's Journey together?' There was no immediate
answer to her question, as Koco turned off the highway and approached their
destination, and the Fates who controlled such things left for an early lunch date.



William was fully immersed in his immediate, allegedly urgent task. He kept his eyes
glued to the computer screen, one hand moving and clicking the mouse, and the other
occasionally typing brief commands. The work was for the most part, deadly boring. But
for William, it was a mystery hunt, shifting through clues, finding the all important lead,
and then making a calculated judgment of which leads would pan out. Then he smiled,
leaning back slightly to savor the moment.

The telephone logs of one Alexander Dukas, provided to William in detail by his
employer, had yielded two potential destinations for the missing professor: Seattle and
Phoenix. William hit a single key, informing the computer to print out the exact
addresses in each city. He would also be faxing the information to the man who
requested it, a man William knew only by the name, Kurt.



Koco had driven south of Phoenix directly to the Laboratory, an unimpressive (from the
outside) corrugated metal building, surrounded by fields under cultivation, and a side lot
of rusting but usable farm equipment. Two front end loaders and an old dump truck --
all having seen many years of service -- added to the general ambiance of the barely-
breaking-even-farmer archetype. The only signs of a more upbeat life, were the two new
vans parked under a shade tree, as if people other than fertilizer salesmen frequented
the place. Off to one side, a large U-Haul truck was backed up and parked flush against
a large loading dock/door.

Inside, everything was totally different. Most striking was a well-lighted, well-equipped
chemical laboratory with four rows of laboratory black benches, two of which combined in
a single unit running down the middle of the room. Several large, and obviously
sophisticated (not to mention, expensive) pieces of equipment populated the room, along
with an assortment of chemicals, glassware, Bunsen burners, and other tools of the
chemist's trade. The lab benches were busy with materials and experiments just
completed, giving the best evidence of an ongoing research business. At the same time,
numerous boxes, in various stages of being packed, were strewn all about the room,
while numerous pieces of equipment were being wrapped and prepared for shipment.

Only two people were in the room, when Dawn followed Alex inside: One, a tall, thin
man in a white lab coat, and the other, a short woman, also dressed in a white coat,
packing boxes on the other side of the room. The man was involved in some sort of
chemistry experiment, and had the appearance of a man long accustomed to laboratory
work. His thin, carelessly cropped hair matched his bony structure and gaunt face. One
might have suspected he was far more interested in chemistry than in the mundane
details of eating and exercise. At the same time, however, his knowledge of chemistry
was sufficient to convince him of the need for hygiene, and thus he was clean shaven and
exceptionally neat. He also had the composure of someone very gentle and content with
who he was.

As Dawn looked around, Alex leaned over toward her and whispered, "Some of this stuff
is quite expensive. So I'm sure I won't have to suggest you take special care while
you're here."
Dawn turned to the man who had so gallantly given her a few cautionary notes on not
destroying the local environment. Her whole body flared up in a flash of anger. As if he
had to warn her to be careful, to remind her to avoid causing wholesale destruction! As
if such was not the paramount goal in her life! Her voice strained, as the words were
forced to find any avenue between her clenched teeth. "I know to be careful!" Had her
eyes been lasers, Alex's body would have been toast. Badly burned toast.

Alex made an immediate decision he would never again make any reference to Dawn's
minor handicap. For the moment, he only managed, "Sorry." Then, in a diversionary
move, he approached the man in the white coat, and greeted him with a show of excess
enthusiasm. "Don Carlos!"

The man turned and abruptly smiled. "Alex!" he responded. The apparent chemist,
calling out over his shoulder, announced, "Hey folks! De Baron, he has returned!" Then
he turned back to Alex, still smiling, holding a beaker of liquid -- a liquid which was
destined to initiate great wonders.

Don Carlos was about to shake hands with his free hand, when Alex motioned to Dawn
slightly off to the side, still seething slightly, and in the process, looking immensely
attractive! Sort of like a beautiful woman in heat. "Don," Alex began, "This is Dawn
Riordan. Dawn... The Duke!"

The Duke turned to see the woman with Alex for the first time. The world, for a split
second, ceased to turn for the chemist. To suggest he was clearly attracted to Dawn is a
gross understatement. There are some things that are really obvious. But from outward
appearances, his first reaction was to merely stare, stunned by the beauty he saw before
him. Dawn had seldom seen a man so completely go into stasis at the mere sight of
her. Then Don Carlos made it clear to everyone else in the room, or at least anyone who
might have been watching, that Dawn had garnered his complete attention. He abruptly
moved his hands and in the process managed to spill acid from the beaker and onto his
open notebook. He immediately tried to cover the mess, and reached for a small hand
towel to mop it up. This, of course, exposed the towel to the acid -- the latter which had
no particular predilection on what it dissolved next.

The dissolving potentiality caught the chemist's attention, and he immediately took the
towel to a sink to wash it with water -- in effect, to dilute the acid and save the towel. A
funny thing happened on the way to the sink, however: The towel caught a graduated
cylinder, slinging it to the floor where it shattered into several thousand pieces (it's very
hard to shatter into a million pieces). The explosion of glass caused Carlos to overturn
the valve on the water faucet (in order to wash the towel free of acid), so that the water
fairly exploded as it hit the towel. Water (and some rapidly diluting acid) splashed onto
the sink, adjacent counters, and effectively covered Don Carlos' aproned chest. He
immediately turned off the water, using all of his strength, and in the process, took the
handle of the faucet off of the valve stem. The water had, meanwhile, ceased, and there
was a momentary calm in the eye of the hurricane. For several seconds, Don Carlos
looked at the valve handle in his hand, trying to somehow understand what it was doing
there.

It was in that moment Dawn felt a wonderful surge of emotion envelop her body.
Suddenly, she felt as if she had met in the midst of the enemy encampment, a comrade
in arms, a fellow traveler on the long and perilous road to one's destiny, a companion
spirit in the very quest for one's soul. For here standing before her was another
maladroit -- someone of like personality, who could fully empathize with the perils of
clumsy Pauline! It was a touching and heart-wrenching moment for her.

Feeling the sense of connection between two people only those with similar dysfunctions
can hope to imagine, Dawn stepped forward, oblivious to the water and glass on the
floor, and touched Don Carlos' hand -- a tender attempt on her part to say she
understood, that she knew his soul. Don Carlos reacted by dropping the valve handle.
On Dawn's foot. And while not a heavy valve handle, it nevertheless struck in just the
right fashion causing Dawn an immediate, sharp piercing pain.

As she winced at the totally unexpected sneak attack, Don's blank facial expression
turned to one of abject horror. He stepped back, stunned by what he had done. In the
process he managed to back into the business end of an adjustable desk lamp which had
been hanging over the opposite counter area. The lamp, fully equipped with springs and
other features of the fully adjustable desk lamp style, reacted by sending the light fixture
portion of the lamp straight up into the air and then in a long curving arc backwards.
Once the light fixture reached aphelion and begun swinging down on the other side of the
double-sided laboratory bench, the lamp threatened to detach from its base, which had
here-to-before been clamped on the upper portion of the lab bench.

Fortunately, the white coated woman on the other side of the bench caught the light
fixture, and acting as if everything had been planned, immediately began unscrewing the
base clamp, preparatory to packing the lamp in a large packing box. Her calmness and
casual demeanor made it clear the staff was fully aware of the Duke's occasional bouts
with crises. Meanwhile, her saving action forestalled the domino effect Carlos' first
sighting of Dawn had initiated. There followed, amidst Duke and the new arrivals, a long
silence.

Alex had watched the proceedings in amazement. It seemed beyond comprehension, but
at the same time, everything had followed in an almost precise, logical sequence. The
notable feature that had been present today was the juxtaposition of two maladroits in
the same space. Suddenly, nothing in the universe was truly safe. The Fates,
themselves, would shudder at the possibilities!

Then Alex noticed that the lower extremity of Dawn's dress was generating fumes. He
immediately took the sopping wet towel out of the sink where it had been discarded, and
began to attack Dawn's dress where the acid had been slowly dissolving the material.
Dawn looked down at the man kneeling before her, tugging at her dress and attempting
to dilute the acid eating random holes in her only viable attire. She was perplexed and
only vaguely aware of his intentions. But inasmuch as there were no walls collapsing or
meteorites crashing anywhere, she decided she would leave Alex to his diversion.

At the same time, she did not want to embarrass Don Carlos any further. Deciding to
ignore the possibility anything was amiss and strike up a conversation in lieu thereof, she
said, "You were working on something when we came in." With genuine interest, she
asked, "What was it?"

Don Carlos, still in shock, was nevertheless able to take immediate comfort in the lady's
generosity. Pulling his tattered dignity together, the man sought refuge in his best
professional attitude, and replied with a steady and carefully controlled voice. "I'm doing
a quantitative chemical analysis -- checking the amounts of Rhodium and Iridium in
various samples of food."

"Rhodium and Iridium," Dawn confirmed, giving encouragement to the man.

"Yes," he answered. "Two of the precious metals. They're located," he continued,

pointing to a large colorful chart just above the laboratory bench where his soiled and
partially eaten notebook laid, "in the middle of the Periodic Table of the Elements.
Rhodium is number 45, while Iridium is immediately below it, number 77. That's the
number of protons in each atom."
"I understand," Dawn replied, already thinking about something else the chemist had
said. "But why are they called 'precious metals'?"

The question was not one Don Carlos was accustomed to answering. At the same time,
Alex finished his work on Dawn's dress, stood up and began to fidget for some
explainable reason. Dawn decided she would eventually have to know why Alex was
reacting to her question in such a way. Meanwhile, the Duke managed to reply by
saying, "They're precious, I suppose, because they’re relatively rare. These two
elements, along with gold, silver, platinum and three others in the same area of the
Periodic Table have been referred to as the 'precious metals' for years."

"And you're trying to determine how much of these metals are in food?"

"Yes," he replied, feeling more comfortable with the question. "We've done an analysis
on a wide variety of foods. The idea is to determine the concentration of these elements
in their mono-atomic form in each item. Carrot juice, for example, has some 25
milligrams of Rhodium per ounce of carrot juice, and 8 milligrams of Iridium; although
this depends on the source of the carrots. Those grown in regions with recent volcanic
activity have much higher levels of both elements than in other locales where carrots are
grown. Frozen grape juice concentrate, on the other hand, is pretty consistent, yielding
32 milligrams of Rhodium and 12 milligrams of Iridium in a one ounce sample. I'm told
mature vineyards have plants with roots that go down into the earth some sixty feet or
more. So apparently there is more than one way to extract large amounts of Rhodium
and Iridium from the bowels of the earth besides volcanic activity."

Suddenly, Dawn recalled the inordinate amount of frozen grape juice concentrate in Gil's
freezer. In some intuitive way, she was certain Gil was using the grape for its Rhodium
and Iridium.

"And, of course," Don Carlos continued, "We're talking about the elements in their mono-
atomic form. In their metallic form, they're practically non-existent in our samples. But
the amounts of mono-atomic Rhodium and Iridium are really quite significant."

Don Carlos' voice increased in confidence and strength as he related what he knew best.
Pride also raised its humble head, as he pointed to a corner of the room, where several
large boxes were stacked with the upper box opened to reveal a series of brown bottles,
neatly capped and ready for shipment. "We've also developed a tea, which we called
Vitality." He smiled broadly at his own personal humorous creation, the first pun he had
ever created. "The tea has 8 milligrams of Rhodium and 26 milligrams of Iridium. If you
were to drink a quart of grape juice and a quart of the Vitality a day, you could actually
get well over the 500 milligram megadoses of both elements you need for the Program."

The chemist was clearly turned on by his work, but Dawn was sensing that Alex was
becoming ever more uncomfortable, as if Don Carlos was revealing more than he
should. Her suspicions were confirmed as Alex, before she could ask about "the
Program', tried to take control of the conversation.

Quickly, he asked, "Where is everyone?"

"Right behind you," was the immediate response.

Alex and Dawn turned, while Don Carlos looked beyond them and for the first time saw
the woman approaching. No one, including Dawn, had been aware of her presence until
she spoke.
'And what a voice,' Dawn thought. 'Complete with a young, gorgeous body, long flowing
blonde hair, a face to melt plastic on a cloudy day, and eyes to mesmerize any male on
the planet.'

Alex was clearly not immune to the new arrival's charms. "Sisi," he replied, obviously
delighted at seeing the woman. They embraced without the slightest preamble, as if the
greeting had been practiced many times before.

"Hello, Alex," she replied, in a deep melodic voice. Then with a quick glance at Dawn,
Sisi asked, her voice very friendly, "Who's your friend?"

Dawn had been struck by the distant resemblance of Sisi to the Old Woman -- albeit, Sisi
was very much the younger version, a woman just beginning to fully take her power,
while Barb was the end result of the quest for sovereignty. The two women seemed to
have the same vibration, even though outwardly their appearances were quite different.
Somehow the looks were deceiving. On a totally different venue, Dawn was struck by
the fact that she could not sense within Sisi a single jealous bone in her gorgeous body.
Obviously, there was no need!

Alex, oblivious to Dawn's reactions to the appearance of the beautiful young woman, was
all gallantry. "Dawn. Allow me to introduce Sisi, the Princess of Cups. Sisi. This is
Dawn."

Dawn decided she liked Sisi immediately. "I'm very glad to know you, Sisi," Dawn
replied, with complete genuineness. "You have a very nice name. It seems to fit you."

"Why thank you," Sisi replied, smiling graciously. "I spell it, S I S I." When Dawn did
not seem to attach any significance to Sisi's emphasis, the younger woman decided to let
the subject drop. Strangely, in that moment, Dawn felt Sisi's decision, and wondered
what it meant.

Alex, his arm still around Sisi's waist (apparently he was willing to leave it there for
several hundred years), spoke the obvious, "You're looking good, lady."

"Thank you, kind sir," Sisi replied. "And so are you, mine Baron!" Then, she changed
the subject. "Have you talked to King David since you arrived?"

"No, not yet," Alex answered. "We just this minute walked in the front door."

"I'll tell him you're here," she replied. With that, she turned to go, winking at Alex. "I'll
be right back." As she left the room, she closed the door behind her.

Dawn watched Alex, who was continuing to watch the closed door. Sisi was, based on
what Dawn had long ago decided about most males' taste in females, a real knockout. It
wasn't clear if Alex had, or if he was currently having, serious romantic intentions about
the younger woman, but both seemed likely. At the same time, Dawn could see that Sisi
would be the one in charge of any possible relationship between them. Sisi would be
operating at her own pace. She was clearly not the dumb blonde archetype.

Alex, in his typical unconscious-of-other-people's-feelings style, said quietly, "Now there

goes a dangerous woman!" He sighed, as if to emphasize his own personal preference
for danger.

Dawn decided to ignore the remark, and turned back to Don Carlos. "You were saying...
about Rhodium and Iridium."
"What?" The expression on Carlos' face was comical, but Dawn pretended not to notice.

"Why these two particular elements? Why are you looking for Rhodium and Iridium
instead of the other precious elements?"

"Oh," he replied. "Well, we do look for the others, but sufficient quantities of Rhodium
seems to be the key element in maintaining or achieving health. Iridium may also be
involved in the health aspects, but we're slowly beginning to suspect megadoses of
Iridium, the heavier element of the two, is more important in the esoteric realms.
Curiously, the other six precious elements appear to be needed in trace or larger
amounts in order for Rhodium and Iridium to be safe and effective. It's the old thing
about products directly from nature always being preferable to manufactured ones."

"What food were you testing?" Alex asked.

Don Carlos turned suddenly red. "The last group of people we met with... I gave them a
list of all the foods and health additives we had tested thus far. They were very
impressed. But then they gave me a lot of static because I hadn't tested the most
obvious candidate -- the one food everyone was much more interested in knowing
about." When everyone seemed sufficiently attentive, he explained, simply, "Several of
the women wanted to know how much Rhodium and Iridium there was in chocolate.
Apparently, there is something about the physiology of the female that demands
chocolate -- and much more so than for the male."

Both Alex and Dawn laughed. Dawn then agreed wholeheartedly. "Of course! Knowing
the amount of Rhodium and Iridium in chocolate would be much more important than all
those healthy foods!" Her distaste for the word, 'healthy', was clear. She asked, "So
what's the result?"

Don Carlos smiled self-consciously. "Don't know yet. I haven't finished the study."
Looking at the recently enacted mess, he added, "May have to start all over again at the
Site."

Alex, then interrupted Carlos' train of thought again. "How's Sisi coming along?"

"Great," Carlos answered. "Everything's negative. She couldn't be healthier."

Dawn responded with concern. "What was wrong with her?"

Alex hesitated for a second, not wanting to reveal a confidence. He was saved by any
temptation to do so by Sisi rejoining them. She had overheard Dawn's question, and
freely answered. "I was HIV positive." When Dawn reacted, Sisi continued. "Got it from
a blood bank about six years ago. I didn't have full blown AIDS yet, but I figure I was
ripe for it."

"And now?" Dawn tentatively asked.

"I began taking the medicinal dosages of the ORME about four weeks ago. My tests
earlier this week showed no indication whatsoever of being HIV positive. Obviously, I've
pretty pleased."

"So am I," Alex said, with considerable enthusiasm. The relief on his face made Dawn
wonder again about the connection between the two people. A small voice inside her
head suggested they might have been waiting for Sisi to get a clean bill of health before
they could have sex together. At the same time, Dawn could sense that Sisi was very,
very grateful, and just might be inclined to share her gratitude on a very intimate level
with someone. Dawn could only wonder if the lucky male would be Alex, Don Carlos, or
someone else. Perhaps the redoubtable King David. Sisi had become the ultimate
convert/proponent, and who else better to share one's return from death's door than
with the King?

Virtually on cue, David Hudson promptly entered the room, followed by a woman. He
was a large man, who walked with a strength and vitality in each step, and carried
himself as if he owned the place (which he did). His hair was thinning, but bald was not
a word that came to mind in describing him. His round face glowed with a bright luster
and a mischievous smile, giving the appearance of a young teenage boy who had just
discovered sex.

But it was his eyes that caught Dawn's attention. A light seemed to shine from behind
them, in much the same manner, she abruptly realized, as the bridegroom in her
dreams. And yet there was something very different about her dream and the man
known as King David. The man in the dream had looked like Alex, while the same light
behind the eyes of the man in her dream was that of David. It was almost as if the
dream male was a combination of the two men now standing in the room with her. But
even that did not seem right. The beaming eyes of the man in her dreams had seemed
so loving. David's eyes were more lustful and less loving.

"Alex!" David said aloud, his hand extended. "Welcome back! It's been too long."

"It's good to be back," Alex replied, shaking David's hand with the same gusto. It was
instantly clear the two men were on good terms, each being aware of the other man's
power. It was the same kind of power that would allow them to work together, but was
less likely to ever allow them to become intimate friends. Then Alex turned his attention
to the woman who had entered the room with David. "Hello Demi. You're looking as
radiant as ever." (Alex was not totally without charm.)

Demi, a small woman with soft eyes and a light brown complexion, carried herself with
graceful authority. Her long black hair gave the impression of a beautiful American
Indian princess descended from the Anasazi royalty. Her eyes were a beautiful, deep
green color -- brilliant and intoxicating, but without the unusual light behind the eyes
David had. Demi was also, quite clearly, the Queen in David's kingdom. She had that
sense about her. In fact, when David looked at her, the lust in his eyes was completely
replaced by love. Dawn was immediately struck by the thought that David greatly
appreciated a beautiful woman, but was committed to just one. Demi.

As Demi took Alex's hands and kissed him on the cheek, she said, "We're so pleased to
see you again, Alex. We've missed you." The quality of her voice made it clear she was
completely sincere.

Then, Alex, still into the very brief gallantry phase of his life, gestured to Dawn. "David,
Demi. May I present Dawn Riordan, a close associate of Gilbert's, and the woman who
has committed to join our little family." To Dawn, he said, "Dawn, this is David Hudson,
the man responsible for all of this, and," gesturing to Demi, "his charming wife and
partner, Demi Hudson."

David turned to Dawn, taking her hand. "It's a delight to meet you. We've heard a great
deal about you, both from Alex and from Gilbert." His voice then became gentler. "We
were shocked and dismayed to hear of Gilbert's death. If there is anything we can do for
you, rest assured that we are here for you in every sense of the word."

Demi, just as graciously, added, "Gil was our dearest friend and a close ally. Please think
of us as your family and this as your home."
Dawn was touched by the sentiments, and said so. But a strange sensation suddenly
swept through her body, as she realized her grief for her former boss had somehow
slipped into the background. In its place, she had found herself caught up in her
relationship with Alex, and the excitement of meeting people and embarking on new
adventures. The meeting with David and Demi had served to remind her of prior
feelings, but of which she had had to let go. As she thanked the two people, her grief
only vaguely remembered, she involuntarily stepped back -- as if symbolically making a
statement about her feelings.

David added, "I'm looking forward to spending some time with you, and allowing us all to
get to know one another better. But, I'm sure you're tired from your trip. We'll give you
a chance to get your feet on the ground, and then, perhaps before dinner, we'll sit down
for a long chat."

"I'd enjoy that," Dawn replied.

David smiled, and then turned to Sisi. "Did you get the materials from Austin?"

"Yes," she replied. "They're on my desk. I just opened them."

"Why don't we look them over now," David replied, already taking Sisi by the waist and
escorting her back in the direction from where they had first appeared. Dawn watched
them walk out together.

David was obviously attracted to women, Sisi in particular. The question was whether or
not Sisi was responding in a romantic fashion to David in return. Dawn could understand
the younger woman's feelings, as Dawn had felt her own body respond to the man in
charge. It is said that "power is an aphrodisiac," and Dawn could readily believe it.
Perhaps it was a survival urge: women attracted to men with the power to protect. Sisi
could easily have fallen under the same spell. Obliquely, Dawn wondered if Sisi might
somehow become a modern day 'Bathsheba'. But then, Dawn quickly decided, 'probably
not’.

Demi, meanwhile, had stepped forward to show Dawn where she could clean up and
relax from the trip. The royalty characteristics fell away with David's departure, and
Demi became the nurturing mother, the old world hostess. Strangely, the woman
reminded Dawn of Sisi -- the same sense of complete understanding of one's place in the
world. At the same time, the two women were very different, as if in different stages of
life. For the moment, Dawn decided, she would feel comfortable with the way these
women felt to her. And perhaps, Demi could help her find a new dress to wear.
The Emperor

Chapter Eleven

David's office was something of a surprise. There were no executive perks or elaborate
fixtures, but instead, the ramshackle office of a farmer with little time for niceties. Old
desks, without any character or style other than pure practicality, were covered with
strewn-at-random papers, books in haphazard piles, binders filled with reports in some
pretense toward organization, and miscellaneous paperweights of every style and shape.
Among the latter was clearly not a single one to ever be found in the most complete
office supply store. All of David's paperweights were of the grab-whatever-is-handy
variety, totally oblivious to fashion or fad.

The walls of the office were decorated (in the loosest possible definition of the term) with
an old survey map showing plots of farming land in the near vicinity, a few old pictures
and the only up-to-date item in sight: a calendar -- but one without pictures. Just
squares for the dates. No notes or handwritten indications of planning adorned it
whatsoever. The calendar's purpose was purely to tell the date. The office had clearly
not seen a feminine touch in ten or twenty years -- probably by mutual consent of all
parties.

This was clearly not the throne room of The Emperor, or the king David had been made
out to be. David was authoritative and clearly the successful organizer, but his
furnishings were at the opposite end of the spectrum of those of royalty, aristocracy, or
even medium-income commoners.

David had taken an old, comfortable swivel chair, when Dawn arrived and sat in a
straight backed chair with arms. The latter was quite comfortable -- assuming you sat in
it correctly, i.e., upright and with correct posture. The four other chairs in the room, all
distinct and without any common style, were empty. The initial interaction between
David and Dawn was to be a private one. It was mid-afternoon, but with the air
conditioning on full tilt, it was still cool inside the otherwise turn-of-the-century dirt
farmer's office.

After a few pleasantries, David began a discussion he had had many times before.
"Basically, I'm just a dirt farmer," he said. “It's a way of living I inherited from my father
and my grandfather. Somewhere along the line, we built it into a business." Gesturing
to a rapidly fading survey map, he continued, "We used to farm some 1600 acres, all
around the Phoenix area. We were one of the state’s largest farming operations. It was
a big business, even though it was still just dirt farming."

Dawn smiled, as David seemed to get into it. "You have to understand," he continued,
"I've always been a die-hard conservative, John Birch style Republican, a businessman
who absolutely hates to pay taxes! Seventeen years ago, net profits on the farming
operation were running around $800,000 a year. That represents a lot of taxes! Added
to that was inflation, the devaluation of the dollar, general governmental incompetence,
and so forth and so on! I was trying to accumulate wealth, reduce my taxes, and find a
place to hoard my money in an inflation-proof environment. At first, I bought gold and
silver as an inflation hedge. Then I got into producing gold from natural sources, old
mining sites.

"I decided gold mining was perfect. I could take the profits from the farming, invest
them in the gold mining, take the tax write offs, and at the same time accumulate wealth
in the form of gold and silver. The best part was I didn't have to pay taxes on the gold
and silver I took out of the ground until I sold the gold and silver and converted them
into dollars. As long as I kept the gold and silver, I was converting taxable dollars from
the farming into non-taxable wealth, i.e. gold and silver. In effect, I was rearranging my
property, accumulating the gold and silver that was already there and concentrating it in
one location.

"A lot of rich folk have expensive hobbies and avocations which they fund with tax
dollars, writing off the cost of owning race horses and the like as a so-called business
expense. My hobby -- and that's the only thing I really thought of it as -- was gold
mining. I had the advantage of already having heavy equipment to mine the gold --
things like front end loaders, which I had been using in my farming. I began going into
old mines, and working the low grade ores. You move a lot of rock that way, but
ultimately, you find gold and silver in sufficient quantities to make it worthwhile. You
have to be using tax dollars for part of the expenses, or it just doesn't pay. But for me,
it was fun."

"Anything to avoid taxes," Dawn commented, smiling.

"Exactly," he replied. Then he began explaining his work in greater detail. "Mining gold
nowadays is mostly a chemical process. Essentially you leach the gold from the ore --
the same kind of thing that's done in farming, leaching the salt out of the soil.
Consequently, I was quite familiar with the process. In the case of gold, you use
cyanide; pour it on the ore, allow it to dissolve the gold out of the rock, and then collect
the gold cyanide at the other end. Then you chemically separate out the gold."

David's smile suddenly turned into a mischievous grin. "But that's where we ran into a
problem. In the process of separating out the gold, we begin to recover 'something else',
a white crud -- ostensibly a waste product. But the 'something else' was also getting in
the way of separating out the yellow stuff. Eventually, we couldn't recover any of the
gold because of the white stuff. We ran into a dead end.

"You have to understand, we're using all the standard gold mining and chemical
techniques available. But we're ending up with 'something else', something with all the
characteristics of a waste by-product and which apparently has no intrinsic value. Plus
which we're not getting any of the gold and silver separated. The whole processing
operation had to be shut down in order to find out what the problem was. Keep in mind
the 'stuff' could be recovered and had a measurable specific gravity; you could recover it
in molten lead as if it were gold or silver -- it would flow right out of the lead. But when
you held the lead down, you ended up with nothing. Just white ‘stuff’.

"I asked some other miners, guys who had been in the business for years, what was
going on, and they told me what I was getting was known in the trade as 'ghost gold'.
Everybody seemed to know about the stuff, and had long ago decided it was one of the
problems of mining gold. I was told the 'stuff', the 'ghost gold', was essentially a form of
gold which could not be assayed or identified." David hesitated, frowning slightly. "Well
the 'ghost gold' was getting in my way! It was interfering in my plans! So I decided to
find out what this 'ghost gold', this white stuff, was! That's when it all began!"

Dawn asked, "Finding out what the 'ghost gold' was?"

David leaned back slightly, as if admitting to a character flaw. "I don't like mysteries,
especially when they're interfering with my plans." Displaying a hint of his inherent
tenacity, he continued, "That's when I learned about emission spectroscopy.
Supposedly, you can take a sample of any material and with emission spectroscopy,
identify all of the different elements in the sample.

"The technique involves placing the sample -- in my case, the 'ghost gold' or ‘white stuff’
-- on a carbon electrode, running a second carbon electrode down to a position just
above the first, and then striking a Direct Current arc across the electrodes. The
electrical intensity of the arc ionizes the elements in the sample such that each of the
elements then gives off light in the form of a series of specific, identifying frequencies.
By measuring the spectrum of these frequencies, you can identify which element or
elements are in the sample. Each element has a very specific spectrum of discrete
frequencies, which show up as distinct lines against a background of spectral noise.
Typically, this spectroscopic analysis involves striking the arc for 10 to 15 seconds, at the
end of which, the carbon electrodes are burned away. According to every American
spectroscopist I've ever met, any sample can be ionized and completely read within
those 15 seconds, so the carbon elements being burned away is no big deal."

David smiled, the recounting of the events of two decades ago still a pleasant pastime.
"My white stuff was identified as iron, silicon, and aluminum. Whereupon I spent the
next three years finding ways to remove all of these three elements. When I was
finished, I still had 98% of the 'stuff'. I went back to the emission spectroscopist and
after another test he declared I had 'nothing'! Instead of a spectrum of specific
frequencies, there was not a single specific frequency being emitted -- just a lot of 'grass'
at the bottom of the scope, essentially electronic noise from the equipment."

David grimaced. "I then took my case to Cornell University where they had this Ph.D.
who was an expert in eight different kinds of X-Ray analysis, ranging from Cumming
Microscopy and Diffraction Microscopy to Fluorescent Microscopy. More damn equipment
than you could shake a stick at. This guy said that my sample was iron, silicon and
aluminum. We then proceeded to work together to remove all of the iron, all of the
silicon, and all of the aluminum. After which, the Cornell expert with the Ph.D. said the
sample was 'pure nothing'." David smiled broadly. "I had spent years and a fair amount
of money to find out my 'ghost gold', my white crud, was 'nothing!' But not just
nothing. 'Pure nothing!'

"I don't have a Ph.D.," David continued, with a wink in his eyes. "I'm not a physicist or a
chemist, and I certainly don't have the years of experience the professor from Cornell
has. But I was pretty sure that my 'pure nothing' was something. You could hold it in
your hands; you could weight it, perform chemistries with it... It was something!"

"Fortunately," he continued, buoyed by Dawn's intent expression, "In my initial forays

into emission spectroscopy, I had become acquainted with the work of the Soviet
Academy of Sciences, easily the most prestigious scientific body in the Soviet Union at
the time. According to these guys, the proper analytical tool was to burn the sample for
300 seconds, not just 15!

"But to do this, you have to sheath the electrode with an inert gas so that the oxygen is
removed from the immediate area of the DC arc. Otherwise, the oxygen will react with
the carbon electrode, oxidize the darn thing, and the electrodes will quickly fall apart. By
sheathing the carbon electrodes with an inert gas, such as argon, and taking advantage
of the fact carbon is a very high temperature material, you're able to strike the arc for a
full 300 seconds.

"The results were pretty much what one might have expected." Abruptly, David smiled,
his eyes now twinkling. "At least initially. When the sample was placed on the electrode,
the electrode sheathed, and the DC arc struck, the only readings were that of aluminum,
iron and silicon, and in some samples, calcium. Then after about 15 seconds, the
material went quiet. It stayed that way for what seemed at the time, an interminably
long wait; but which was actually, about 90 seconds. Then after 90 seconds, palladium
began to appear; after 110 seconds, rhodium began to read; at 130 seconds, platinum;
between 140 and 150 seconds, ruthenium; at 190 seconds, iridium; and at 220 seconds,
osmium began to read." As if explaining it all, David added, "The Soviets call this
process, fractional vaporization."

When Dawn blinked, as if unsure of the latter description, David explained. "The same
idea is the basis for the cooling system in such things as automobile engines. These
engines don't overheat as long as water, in liquid form, is present. But once the water is
gone, or turned to steam, the engine's temperature is no longer constrained by the
boiling point of water, and rapidly overheats. In fact, the engine's temperature will
quickly increase in the direction of the melting point of Iron -- or whatever metal is used
in the engine. The same process occurs when boiling water on the stove in an aluminum
tea kettle. As long as there is water still in the kettle, the kettle and its content's
temperature will not exceed the boiling point of water. But once the water is gone, the
aluminum tea kettle can literally be vaporized. Many years ago, when I was in college, I
actually did vaporize an aluminum tea kettle. I put on some hot water, forgot about it,
and went to work out at the gym. When I returned, there was absolutely nothing left but
an odor and a haze in the kitchen's atmosphere. I had vaporized the kettle!"

Dawn laughed, joining David. "I would like to have seen that," she said.

David shrugged his shoulders and smiled. "My younger years," he admitted. Then,
returning to his professorial posture, "The same thing applies in our emission
spectroscopic analysis. Following the procedures laid out by the Soviet Academy of
Sciences, we essentially boiled off each of the elements in our sample, the frequency
spectrum of emissions occurring in the sequence of the various elements' increasing
boiling point temperatures. This sequence turned out to be for the lighter elements:
calcium, 1484 degrees Celsius -- when traces of calcium were present, aluminum, 2519
degrees, iron, 2861, and silicon, 3265. Then for the heavier elements: palladium, 2963,
rhodium, 3695, platinum, 3825, ruthenium, 4150, iridium, 4428, and osmium, 5012 -- all
degrees Celsius. The theoretical maximum temperature of the DC arc is between 5450
and 5500 degrees. Of course, this maximum temperature is located at the center of the
arc, while the sample is slightly removed from the center. Thus, all the heat goes into
boiling off one element at a time, in the sequence of their boiling temperatures. Each
one comes off individually, as if at the time there was nothing else in the sample."

"But what's the connection," Dawn interrupted, "between this and gold and silver?"

David smiled, as if to say, 'I'm glad you asked that question.' Instead, he got directly to
the point. "If you look at the Periodic Chart of the Elements, you'll find, right in the
middle of the chart, all grouped under the categories referred to as "Group VIIIA" and
"Group 1B", ruthenium, rhodium, palladium, and silver; elements 44 through 47 on one
line, and directly below them: osmium, iridium, platinum, and gold, elements 76 through
79. All eight of these elements are highly reactive chemically and have similar
properties. As a group these eight elements are called 'precious metals'. They are
considered relatively rare, and yet eighty-five percent (85%) of all products
manufactured in the United States are dependent, at some point in the manufacturing
process, on these eight elements. From a completely practical standpoint, they really are
precious metals!"

Dawn realized Don Carlos had been talking about the same thing, only Don was more
specifically interested in rhodium and iridium, just two of the eight elements. Dawn
was becoming increasingly curious. "And you were finding them in the process of mining
gold and silver?"

David was quick to answer. "The white crud, the 'ghost gold' that kept getting in our
way of separating the gold and silver was constituted, for the most part, by the other six
metals of the precious metals group! We continued to run samples for another two and a
half years, getting the same results, and at the same time, comparing them to the
standard, commercially available samples of the precious metals.

"That's when we discovered an amazing thing." David leaned forward slightly. "It turned
out that the commercially available grades of the precious metals -- including gold and
silver -- when placed in the emission spectroscopic DC arc, were read within 15 seconds.
What we can conjecture from this is that the analysts doing the analysis expected this
result, and assuming they had read all of the emission lines of the precious metals,
promptly quit! They didn't keep the test going. But we did! And after 90 seconds, these
commercially available samples began showing up just as our samples of 'ghost gold'
had! Quantitatively, about 85% of the reading occurred at the end. In other words, the
traditional analysts were only reading 15% of the samples they analyzed! At the same
time, they were thinking they'd seen it all! The joke on them is that short burn times
with an unsheathed electrode simply don't do the trick. They're assuming a particular
standard, and once they've recovered the standard, they stop the process. The problem
is: The standard ain't correct!"

Dawn shook her head. "And they have no clue?"

"Not as far as we can tell." Then David added, "It's a bit like Mother Nature has a
twisted sense of humor. But then, it starts to grow on you. Pretty soon, you're laughing
your head off!"

"But wait a minute," Dawn interjected. "The value of these eight metals, these 'precious
metals', will depend in large part on their scarcity. But if in a given sample, the so-called
experts are only identifying fifteen percent of the element in question, then there is the
very distinct possibility these so-called precious metals are overpriced! If they are in far
greater abundance than anyone might have ever dreamed, then this becomes
enormously significant to modern society!"

David had continued to smile, as Dawn recounted the possible implications. Then, he
agreed with her. "The idea the precious metals might be as abundant as the less-
precious metals is indeed, a staggering thought. But it gets better," David added, with a
twinkle in his eye. "The mining activity of what is considered by experts to be the best
deposit in the world for six of these elements -- everything but gold and silver -- is
currently yielding one-third of one ounce of all these precious metals per ton of ore.
These mines in South Africa go down a half mile into the ground, follow an eighteen inch
seam of ore, just in order to extract one third of one ounce per ton for all of these six
precious elements. One third of one ounce! At least, this is the extent of the metals
which the mainstream experts know is there, or can hope to analyze with their current
techniques.

"We, on the other hand, using the raw ore available quite literally in our own back yard,
have managed to extract and identify out of one ton of ore..." David's voice slowly
became increasingly dramatic. "Six to eight ounces of palladium, twelve to thirteen
ounces of platinum, one hundred and fifty ounces of osmium, two hundred and fifty
ounces of ruthenium..." David paused, letting the numbers sink in. Then, "Six hundred
ounces of iridium! And twelve hundred ounces of rhodium! All in all, our sources yielded
over two thousand, two hundred ounces per ton, instead of their one-third of one ounce!"
Dawn leaned back in her chair, trying to deal with the amazing implications. But David
wasn't through. "Keep in mind," he added, "that these quantitative values were
confirmed by a highly respected analytical chemist and spectroscopist. All the colors of
the solutions were correct, all the oxidation potentials were basically on target, all of the
physical properties of each of these elements were found to be accurate. Rhodium, for
example, produces a crimson, blood-red colored salt. This is how it got its name, from
the rose-colored salt. It is the only element which produces this color, and is very
conspicuous. It's very easy to identify. It also suggests why the rose is such a popular
flower."

The last sentence did a fly-by over Dawn's head. The economic implications were much
too staggering, and she was being seriously blown away. "But you're saying to all those
people who bought, say platinum, at the current costs, that they very likely paid a very
substantial premium!"

David's reaction was blasé. "Absolutely. You also need to realize that the only people
producing all the precious metals in the world are the Soviet Union, and a western
consortium of companies by the name of Johnson-Mathew-Engelhart."

Dawn shook her head, trying to sort it out. Then, another thought occurred to her. "And
the people who are producing these precious metals... They're not going to be too
thrilled to hear about your being able to deliver them in huge quantities for a fraction of
the cost!"

"I imagine they're going to be quite livid," David replied, without a care in the world.

Dawn was as surprised by David's openness and lack of subterfuge, as she was with his
amazing information. Then, voicing her concerns. "I'm surprised," she began. "You
seem to be so open about this -- particularly when secrecy seems to be the more
appropriate response. I mean, haven't you received any kind of flak from anyone,
governmental interference, anything like that?"

David laughed. Then commenting wryly, "No problems at all... at first. Of course, I had
been careful not to make medical claims and the like. That where you can really get into
trouble -- shaking the AMA's money tree! But, at the same time, it was becoming
apparent the Precious Metals Consortium, what we call the PMC, might be getting a little
bent out of shape. We first noticed it when we moved into one warehouse, some
distance from here. Suddenly, there were building code restrictions that surfaced, all
seemingly designed to bring us to a screeching halt. We got past a lot of that, and then
found ourselves with an explosion/fire scenario. There was nothing we could have done
to initiate it -- but from the local gestapo-style bureaucracy, it was simply a reason to
shut us down. Basically, we walked away from it.

"Meanwhile, Gilbert and later Alex began to strongly suggest we take action to protect
ourselves. Just shutting us down was not going to be enough. Accordingly, we're in the
process of moving the old farm laboratory and the entire operation of what we're trying
to accomplish to a more secure location. A more secure, secret location -- as the only
real security is when they don't know you exist, and the nearest thing to that is when
they don't know where you are. I suspect everyone will feel a lot safer once we're in a,
quote, secure location, unquote. As for me, I'll just continue to depend on my guardian
angels."

Dawn smiled at his answer. It suddenly occurred to her that David's 'guardian angels'
were more likely Demi and/or Sisi. Even Old Woman might be a guardian angel, if
keeping Alex out of trouble was her charge. And if the women were, in fact, having to
act as guardian angels, David and Alex, being typical men, would have no clue! Dawn
was about to suggest David might want to be a bit more circumspect in telling people
about his discovery, when she realized Alex must have been fully aware of these
implication as well. If he knew the producers of precious metals, the Consortium, might
be just as unhappy as the medical reactionaries, why hadn't he told her about them?
Just how much was Alex keeping from her?

As Dawn momentarily became quiet in order to think, David took the lull in the
conversation to raise another issue -- one more in line with his current interests.
"There's something else I found very interesting when we subjected the commercially
available samples of the precious metals to the fires of the emission spectroscopic
analysis. The emission spectra appropriate to each of the elements was obtained in the
first 15 seconds, but then, after a quiet period, obtained in much greater intensity in the
time frame of 90 to 220 seconds. The question is: Why are there two distinct episodes
of the various precious elements making their presence known? Why should rhodium
indicate its presence by emitting the appropriate spectra within the first 15 seconds; and
then go silent, to be followed by another and more intense emission beginning at 110
seconds? Are there two kinds of rhodium, two versions of the rose element?"

Dawn looked appropriately blank. "I have no idea," she replied.

"There has to be," he answered, simply. "In fact, it turns out all of the precious metals,
when taken down to their mono-atomic state, change their color. In the case of
rhodium, it becomes a white powder, essentially a dried version of the white crud we
found in the gold processing."

"This is incredible," Dawn managed to say, taking in a deep breath.

"There's one more thing," David added. "If you take something like hydrogen rhodide in
its mono-atomic state and heat it, you remove the hydrogen and the rhodium goes to a
snow white powder. In the process, the sample loses 4/9th of its weight, and all of its
metallic properties! If you take it back to a metal, it regains the weight. And if you keep
working the material, it levitates -- literally taking the weighing pan with it. In cooling,
the weight goes back to anything from 2% to 300% of the original weight. If you again
heat it, the weight goes to less than nothing!"

Dawn felt her ground become shifting sand. It was becoming too much. "That doesn't
make sense."

"Sure it does," David assured her. "In the white powder form, you haven't lost any
mass! You simply created a superconductor with its Meisner field -- a non-polar
magnetic field, which repels all other magnetic fields including the earth's. And if you
oppose the earth's magnetic field, you get lift! The superconductor's Meisner field
effectively floats on the earth's magnetic field."

Dawn's expression made it clear that suddenly it did make sense. "Oh my heavens!"
Dawn could feel her heart beginning to pound harder, as pieces of the puzzle began to
fall into place.

Becoming more intense than before, David continued. "In the superconducting stage, it
is literally flowing light within it. It levitates in response to the earth's magnetic field.
And it flows so much current, it levitates 4/9th of its weight. In fact, a human hand has
sufficient amperage, that if you pass your hand under the sample, the material will float.
It's that sensitive to magnetic fields. And all eight of the precious metals can do this.
I've even managed to do it with copper, cobalt and nickel -- the elements directly above
the precious metals on the Periodic Table. In 1988, I filed 11 patents, one for each
element, on this discovery. From the viewpoint of the patent office, I had created eleven
new elements!"
"This idea of levitation is mind-boggling," Dawn replied, her whole body slightly shaken.

David smiled, in that knowing, I've-got-a-secret style. "There's a fellow named Hal
Puthoff, who lives down in Austin, Texas. He wrote a paper in 1989, in which gravity was
a zero-point-fluctuation force. At one point, he predicted the exact same four-ninths loss
in weight!"

"Yes," Dawn replied. "I've seen the paper." While David looked suddenly surprised,
Dawn was still furiously thinking. "And you're using this," she asked eagerly, "for
medical purposes?"

David relaxed, as he found himself back on more stable turf. "Among other things, yes,"
he replied. "I found a huge amount of research going on in treating cancer with precious
metals. This led me to conclude that the precious metals were interacting with the cells
through some sort of vibrational frequency or light transfer, and in the process,
correcting the DNA. What was being discovered by science was that any alternation,
any defect in the DNA, was being repaired by the precious metals. What this means is
that these elements perfect the cells in our bodies. Keep in mind that the element going
into our bodies is not a metal, but a mono-atomic element. Thus, there's no heavy metal
poisoning. You can eat any amount of this white powder and it doesn't hurt you -- it
goes right through your digestive system.

"We took some brain tissue from a pig, and some from a cow, and analyzed them. We
destroyed the organic and did a metals analysis. Over 5% of the brain tissue by dry
matter weight was Rhodium and Iridium! But no one knows it, because these two
elements in their mono-atomic form can't be directly measured by standard techniques.
The precious elements are flowing the light of life in the body. They're what the light
is." David paused for a second. Then he forged ahead.

"There are four papers by the U. S. Naval Research Laboratory where they have shown
that the cells communicate with each other by a process identical to superconductivity.
But those guys can't figure out the physical mechanism. It's their stealth atom. We
know that it's the atoms in our bodies flowing perpetually the light of life. No one else
knows they're there, because they can't identify them by instrumental analysis. And the
reason they can't identify them is also in the literature. Since 1986, the top physicists in
the world, at the Niels Bohr Institute, at Argonne National Laboratory, at Brookhaven...
They've all found there is a group of elements in the center of the Periodic Table that go
through this state of existence, which is virtually a fifth state of matter.

"They've realized that as the nuclei of these elements were deformed, they went into a
high spin state, and subsequently, became superconductors. The high spin nuclei pass
energy from one atom to the next without any loss of energy. This is what is in our
bodies. This is what flows the light of life. You have to understand a superconductor
literally flows a single wavelength of light, a null light, two waves that are mirror images
of each other. There's no normal wave -- everything appears to cancel. But the null
wave is there after all, even if not directly measurable. And it is this null wave that
produces the aura around our bodies. The aura is just the Meisner field of
superconductivity!"

Mesmerized by David's intensity, and sensing the reality of what he was saying, Dawn
slowly, began to feel the full impact of the staggering implications. "Gil," she began,
"had in his briefcase, a group of scientific papers, all of which seemed to be saying the
same thing as you are."

David smiled. "I know. I gave him the papers. He was showing it to potential
philanthropists. We definitely had a scientific basis." Then, more to the point, he
added, "Everything I am saying is well supported by the scientific literature. All the
details are there... somewhere. Even the Russians know about fractional vaporization.
But what is missing, is the synthesis of bringing the different specialties together in order
to form a coherent theory."

"Which is what you've done..."

"That's basically my contribution, yes. Of course, I had to spend fifteen years coming up
to speed, learning to read the journals, finding out how everything fit. But it was all
there in the literature, just waiting to be discovered."

"This is absolutely amazing," Dawn said, her breathing betraying her excitement. For a
moment, David remained silent, judging Dawn's expression. Dawn could sense his
questioning the extent of her understanding. Then she asked, hesitant but eager, "Is
there more?"

To answer her, David leaned back and tilted his head slightly. "Ever hear of junk DNA?"

Dawn shook her head. "I don't think so."

"There are thirty aspects of the DNA," David began, "that nobody in mainstream science
can figure out what they're there for. They have no apparent use. They're junk." After
a slight pause, he continued. "In addition, we only use 15% of our brain -- this fact is
pretty well recognized in science. No one is disputing it."

David leaned forward for emphasis. "But then we have to ask ourselves: What's the
other 85% of the brain there for? What's the purpose of the junk DNA? More
importantly, we have to ask: Did we evolve a brain we don't use!? Did we evolve DNA
that is just junk? The only answer that makes any sense is that we had, at one time, a
higher state of enlightenment. In other words, we used to work with all of the brain and
all of the DNA. But somewhere along the road we degraded, or fell from grace, to the
state we exist in now. Human beings, or their ancestors, having once been in a higher
state of being or enlightenment is the only viable reason for the excess brain power and
the junk DNA!"

Dawn was thinking intently. David's argument appealed to her in a deeply profound
way. "That makes sense," she said. "There would have been no survival advantage to
having evolved a brain or DNA we didn't use. Mankind must have evolved and used the
whole brain at some point."

"Or else, other, more evolved DNA was bred into man," David added, his voice calm and
belying his excitement. Dawn watched him, trying to guess where he was heading.
After a slight pause, David continued. "Maybe it was all in mankind's diet!" David's
smile increased even more.

Dawn smiled as well, joining David in the humor. "You're setting me up, right?"

David laughed. "Only a little bit." Then he became more serious. "There's a book called
The Egyptian Book of the Dead, The Papyrus of Ani [1]. This is the oldest book of the
dead, and dates from Old Kingdom Egypt, roughly 2300 years before Christ. They found
it in the tomb of Pepi II. In this book at one point, it says, 'I am purified of all
imperfections. What is it? I ascend like the golden hawk of Horus. What is it? I pass by
the immortals without dying. What is it? I come before my father in Heaven. What is
it?' It goes on and on like this. It keeps asking this question, 'What is it?'"

Dawn laughed slightly. "I give up. What is it?"

David smiled in return. Then with a twinkle in his eye, replied, "It's all in the Bible."

When Dawn could only look skeptical, David continued. "The Hebrews worked in Egypt
for many, many generations. They became the artisans and the metallurgists. When
they left Egypt, Moses and Baalzelael the goldsmith, prepared 'the bread of the presence
of God.' This was the same bread the high priest partook of, the Melchizedek priest. The
word in Hebrew that literally means 'What is it?', is “manna”. The word, manna, literally
translates verbatim into a question, 'What is it?' These then are the very same words
used in Old Kingdom Egypt."

"The same manna the Israelites received in the wilderness?"

"Yes, but in a different sense. In Exodus, the reference is to anything badly needed that
comes unexpectedly. The sense in the Old Kingdom text was that of spiritual
sustenance. The Bible also says Moses told the Hebrew People, 'You have not kept the
covenant, and so the manna is being taken from you. But it will come back in the end
times, when we will then be a nation of high priests and not an elect high priesthood.'
What Moses was referring to was the food, the light you take into your body.

"If you ask a Rabbi, has he ever heard of the white powder of gold, the occult gold,
he'll say, 'Yes, we've heard of it, but to our knowledge no one has known how to make it
since the destruction of the First Temple, the Temple of Solomon. This knowledge has
been lost.'" David continued, mischief in his eyes. "But it wasn't completely lost. The
high priests, when they left the temple when it was destroyed, went out on the desert
and organized a commune, which they called Qumrun. They were, in fact, the Essenes, a
particular sect of Judaism. According to The Dead Sea Scrolls Uncovered [2], in ancient
times, when the white powder was mixed in water, it was known as 'The Golden Tear
from the Eye of Horus.' It was called, 'That which issues from the mouth of the creator.'
The spittle. Not the word of God, but the spittle of God. The semen of the father in
heaven." David leaned back, "If you put the white powder, the 'ghost gold,' in water, it
doesn't really dissolve. It forms a gelatinous suspension, which looks just like a vial of
semen. Being a farmer and having raised bulls for breeding, I know what semen looks
like."

As Dawn looked dazzled, David took a breath. "It's the same symbolism of 'prepare
yourself like a bride in the bridal chamber,' purify and cleanse yourself, prepare yourself
for the coming of the father in heaven, to be inseminated by the father in heaven in the
bridal chamber, to be regenerated, to be purified, to be cleansed." He leaned forward
again, intent upon conveying his message.

"Every cell in your body can be taken back to the way it's supposed to be, when you
were a teenager or a child. The white powder, the 'ghost gold,' perfects the DNA. It
flows the light until you literally reach the point where your light body exceeds your
physical body.

"In ancient Egypt, they said you have a physical body you must feed in order to grow it
the way it's meant to grow. If you don't feed the child, she'll never grow. She'll never
become the person she's supposed to be. But you also have to feed the spirit body. You
have to feed what they called in ancient Egypt, the ka. So it can grow and become what
it's meant to be. And most of us aren't feeding our ka! It's sitting there like a little runt
inside of our bodies. It's not growing. It is said when you feed it with the semen of the
father in heaven, it grows and becomes more enlightened, and you literally reach the
point where your light body exceeds your physical body. You literally light up the room
when you walk in.

"Christ said to his disciples, 'Don't touch me, I don't have on my earthly garments.'
When they asked, 'When will we see you again?' he replied, 'When you have prepared
the proper food and have on your proper garments.' What is the proper food? It's the
food of the angels, the food of the gods, the manna, the 'What is it?' And your proper
garment is your aura, your Meisner field. And literally, it can be about a thousand times
what you have now."

The intensity in David's face abruptly faded. He took another deep breath, and said,
"The Bible tells of the man who will plant the golden tree of life -- which in Hebrew, is
the ORME tree." David hesitated, allowing the idea to flower in Dawn's mind. Then he
added, with just a slight boast, "When my cousin joined the Mormon Church, she had to
do our family's genealogy. It turns out my great, great, great grandmother is Hannah
deGuise, daughter of Christopher deGuise, brother of Claude deGuise. The deGuise
were, in turn descended, according to the book, Holy Blood, Holy Grail [3], from Jesus
Christ, and ultimately from the biblical King David. Nostradamus, who worked for the
deGuise family, prophesied that by 1999, the occult gold would be known to science. It
seems only fair a descendent of the legendary King David should be the instrument."

Both were silent, as Dawn struggled to put it all into a comprehensive perspective and
David allowed her to do just that. Dawn could feel her body and mind reeling from
David's revelations, and yet at the same time she was profoundly moved by the synergy
of all the diverse elements fitting into the pattern where every concept was an essential
ingredient. Incredibly, it all made sense!

"There is, admittedly," David added, "The fact that in sixty or so generations from the
time of the Biblical King David that there has been a lot of begetting going on, and not all
of it under those official auspices conductive to strict genealogical interpretations.
Laurence Gardner has also noted the fact that it is the matriarchal line, the
mitochondrial DNA that is passed from mother to daughter, that is more fundamentally
important than the male line -- which most history books emphasize. Gardner has also
laid out not only the case of the genealogical tree from Adam to the present day, but has
combined the modern day understanding of the white powder of gold, its health effects,
and potential for enlightenment. This even includes a connection between the ORME,
the Star Fire of the Goddess, the Egyptian temple of Hathor on Mount Horeb, the Ark
of the Covenant, and the all-important Chartres Cathedral in France. [4] A fascinating
tour de force."

Dawn was still in a state of studied bewilderment when Demi came into the office
following a perfunctory knock on the door.

"David," she said, very gently, "This woman is in need of some R and R. She and I have
a date to find some clothes among other things, and thus I must take her from you."

David laughed good naturedly, and replied, "Yes, my dear. Of course. I would say we've
pretty well finished for now." To Dawn, he asked, "You agree?"

Dawn laughed self-consciously, wondering if her mind-boggling state was obvious. "I
know I have a great deal of information to process."

"He'll talk your arm off if you let him," Demi replied, beaming lovingly at David.
Together the two women left the room, suddenly bent upon all manner of feminine
conspiracies.



It was later in the evening, after a pleasant dinner and with everyone momentarily
relaxed, that Alex broached the need for some serious discussions. All of the principles
were in the room: David, Demi, Sisi, Don Carlos, and Dawn. It was time to plan for the
immediate future.
Sisi was smiling broadly, when she said, "You must have been really hungry, Dawn. I
would have thought Alex would have fed you better while you were in Colorado." Sisi
glanced briefly at Alex, to see if she was on target. But Alex, immersed in his own
thoughts, missed her comment entirely. The masculine ability to focus on a specific
problem often accounts for why most males appear to women as being unconscious of
what is going on around them. (Focusing, however, is a talent, not a handicap.)

Demi added, "There's nothing like a little shopping to make one hungry -- particularly,
when one finds such a beautiful dress." Dawn was amused, deciding the compliment was
genuine.

Alex then returned to the others. Without preamble, he said, "There's a couple of things
we need to talk about as a group." When no one objected, he continued. "The first is
the issue of the money transfer. This necessitates Dawn and me making a trip to LA,
before we duck out of sight. The second issue has to do with Gil's original mission."

Everyone in the room immediately put aside the lightheartedness they had felt, and got
down to serious business. Several, having experience with such group discussions,
turned to David. In turn, David focused his attention on Dawn. "With respect to the first
issue," the group's leader began, "Is Dawn ready to take on this responsibility?"

Dawn's body tensed as David looked at her. His question seemed forthright, and she
sensed he was more interested in her making her own decision than being coerced. But
there was also the feeling he might very well apply pressure to convince her if her initial
reaction was negative. She could appreciate that David had opted to allow her to fall in
line without any coercion as the first alternative. But she doubted it would be left there if
she declined. She turned to look at him, trying to gauge his intentions. When her
thoughts received no definitive answer, she dropped her eyes before replying. Breaking
the silence, she said, "I know Gil would have wanted me to..."

"You mustn't do this," Demi quickly interrupted, "Just because of Gil. He had his
reasons, yes. But they don't have to be your reasons." David abruptly looked at Demi,
and Dawn sensed he was not entirely delighted by her comment. But he said nothing.

Sisi added her own two bits. "I'm not trying to talk you out of anything," she began.
"But I do think you need to realize the ramifications of your decision." She then turned
to look at Alex.

Alex felt Sisi's expectant gaze, and knew he had to respond. Dawn could see the
connection between Alex and Sisi was a deep one, and Alex would accept Sisi's lead.
Clearing his throat, he began. "The money transfer itself is straight forward. We go into
the bank as if we owned the place." For just a moment, he looked at Dawn. "Or perhaps
as if you owned the place and I'm along as your bodyguard. Whatever." After a slight
pause he added, "We transfer the money, and someone at this end covers the money
tracks. Once the money is secure and untraceable, everyone still here goes to the Site,
in effect dropping off the planet in the process -- just in case there are some unforeseen
repercussions. The Site's security then becomes all important."

After a pause, he continued. "Assuming the money cannot be transferred without

eventually attracting the attention of The Patrons, Dawn and I will then come under the
gun, so to speak, undoubtedly drawing the first salvo from one or more of our enemies.
To some extent, we'll become a decoy or diversion, such that anyone seriously interested
in taking retribution, will come after us first. This will give the rest of you time to hunker
down at the Site and carry on in secret."
Don Carlos quickly interjected, "We're well along on the move already. The most critical
equipment is already at the Site. There's just the portable stuff, and a lot of boxes left to
go." Then, as an afterthought, he added, "And the people of course."

Alex acknowledged Don's comment and then turned directly toward Dawn. "The reality is
both Dawn and I are already being sought. The Patrons are after her, or at least, that's
our supposition. And I have reason to believe the Precious Metals Consortium," he
continued, letting it all hang out, "may very well be after me. Apparently, we were
correct some weeks ago when we began to suspect one of our experts in the
spectroscopic field was informing other interests on our progress. In addition, when I
sold a few ounces of Rhodium last week, as a test of the market we had decided we
needed to conduct, the feeling I had was a very uncomfortable.

"There's also the men who showed up on my doorstep. The very fact they arrived
uninvited at my home pretty much tells us what we need to know." Alex frowned,
admitting the obvious. "So both Dawn and I are already 'hot property'. Maybe not as
intensely sought as we'll likely be after we make the money transfer, but we're both
being pursued even now."

Dawn let the eye contact between her and Alex lapse. Quietly, she said, "I suspect it's
necessary, and perhaps even inevitable, but I can't say I'm all that crazy about being a
decoy."

Alex looked pleased. "Which brings up my second point. Frankly, I'm not interested in
being a decoy either. But if in our travels, we're accomplishing something a bit more
positive..."

David quickly responded to Alex's implied suggestion. "You're suggesting you and Dawn
take on Lenki's mission to check out the Humanki?"

Alex nodded in the affirmative. "It seems like the best solution."

Dawn was puzzled. "I'm all for doing something positive, but what are we talking
about? And exactly who are the Humanki? Nathan mentioned them when I was at Lake
Mach. And I received the distinct impression he considered the Humanki to be his
enemy. He even asked if I knew about them. I didn't, and I still don't. Who are they?"

Demi answered for the others. "The ORME Project is so all-encompassing that it
manages to offend a great number of vested interests. The Patrons, the self-appointed
protectors of the status quo and the patriarchal paradigm, you already know about.
And I know you're aware of the vested interests of the medical establishment --
everyone from the American Medical Association to the drug companies. There is also,
of course, the Precious Metals Consortium. These are all people who will not want us to
succeed, and may be willing to do most anything to ensure that we don't!"

Sisi added, "They may be working together, or separately, unaware of each other. But if
they're all after us, it doesn't much matter if it's a unified effort or not."

Don Carlos then contributed his concerns. "Don't forget the energy companies, the
utilities, and their supporting industries. I can even see the automobile industry
becoming quite nasty. There are really very few people who will not feel threatened by
us, one way or the other, once they understand all of the implications. Virtually no one
in power likes change. Because it implies they may lose their power."

Demi smiled at Don, before she turned back to Dawn. "The Duke's correct. No one in
power is going to like what we're doing." Then she became more intent. "But there is
yet another player in all of this; a group that may be interfering with both us and the
people opposed to us. Instead of having all the vested interests ganging up on us in a
them-versus-us situation; there seems to be a third side. We know next to nothing
about them, other than they've apparently been fouling up some of the Patrons' plans!
At least, that's our understanding from what Gil has reported. But there's nothing to
indicate they're on our side. Gil knew that they're called the Humanki, but he didn't
know who or what they are."

David then added, "It's important for you to realize that the Humanki, according to Gil, is
quite powerful, and a lot better informed than anyone else we've encountered. We
suspect they know about the ORME, perhaps even know about our work in the area. But
we can't be sure. We don't know whose side they're on, or even if they're on a side.
Their agenda might be radically different from anyone else we've ever dealt with. They
could also be a lot more dangerous than anyone else, including The Patrons!"

Dawn hesitated for several minutes as the information found its way into her mind. "And
our mission," she finally asked, "will be to find out who the Humanki are?"

"That," Alex answered, "And what their intentions are. The latter can be equally
important. Can we, for example, benefit from their actions? Or do we need to recognize
them as just one more group attempting to stop us? If so, is there something we can do
to nullify their efforts?"

Dawn looked around momentarily, and then asked, "If we don't know anything about
them, how do we find them. Where do we go first?"

Alex was not enthusiastic. "Our only real lead, one which Gil came up with, is that there
is someone called 'The Mother', and her most likely location is in central Mexico."

Dawn's 'ah-ha' button went off. "Is that why Gil and I were heading for Mexico?"

"Yes," Alex replied, simply and easily.

Demi then added, "Dawn. Just because this person is called 'The Mother', you don't want
to make the assumption we're talking about some wonderfully nurturing female. I know
more than one mother who would commit all manner of atrocity, particularly in defending
her offspring."

There was general agreement and a few begrudging laughs. Then Sisi said, "We're going
to have to maintain some kind of contact between those at the Site and Dawn and Alex
while they're on the road. I'd like to volunteer for that. I can periodically rendezvous
with them, as necessary."

Dawn noticed Alex's face light up at Sisi's offer. Dawn also noticed most of the others in
the room take Sisi's offer very much in stride, almost as if it were expected. Only David
made any comment aloud. "We appreciate your offer, Sisi. And as the need arises, I am
sure we will want to avail ourselves of your services." Then turning to Dawn, "Heard
enough?"

Dawn smiled. Instead of having been dissuaded by the talk of danger, she felt a
mounting excitement at the prospect of high adventure. Dawn had learned in recent
months that it was a common characteristic of humans, when faced with the idea of
intrigue and danger, that they were immediately attracted to it. The reality of their
Hero's Journey -- which might include their early and inglorious death -- often did not
enter the picture. 'But,' Dawn thought, 'I'm already in the middle of it. Might as well,
make it worthwhile.' Tentatively, she said, her voice carrying a sense of levity, "Our
'mission', should we choose to accept it..." She looked at the others, as they shared her
attempt at humor. Then, her smiled faded and she became serious again. Turning to
Alex, she said, "I'm game if you are."

Alex laughed. "I'm not sure I want to think of us as 'game'..." As everyone joined in the
laughter, he added, with a more serious expression on his face, "Then we're agreed!"

David waited for Dawn to acknowledge Alex and shake his hand. Then he turned to Alex,
"When do you leave?"

Alex's response was immediate. "Tomorrow morning."

There was a sudden chill from both Dawn and Demi, which Alex quickly picked up on.
Turning to Dawn, he added, "That would be my suggestion. There's no sense in leaving
before the banks open. And after the near miss in Fort Collins, it doesn't seem like a
good idea to hang around here." He hesitated. Then, "What's your best reading?"

"I agree," Dawn replied, feeling better. "No point in drawing fire in Phoenix."

Demi then made one of her more outrageous forecasts. Beaming brightly, she said, "I
can see the two of you are going to make a great team!"

Dawn looked slightly skeptical, while Alex had the suggestion of a greater puzzlement on
his face.

David then added one final point. Addressing Dawn and Alex, he said, "Keep in mind
during your travels: we can always use confirmations, as well as other data which will
help the project gain credibility, and which ultimately, will lead to widespread acceptance
from the public at large. Once we go public in a big way, we may need as much support
as we can possibly gather."

Both Alex and Dawn acknowledged the suggestion. It would indeed be necessary to have
some ammunition for public consumption later on. Both were well aware of the fact that
while believing is seeing (and vice-versa), there was also going to be a great deal of
resistance from a skeptical public at large. The implications simply affected too many
areas of life, and inevitably contradicted so much of what had been learned and accepted
for years. Alex, intellectually, and Dawn, intuitively, could each sense the uphill battle
for wide scale acceptance of the numerous mind-boggling concepts and implied
remedies.

The meeting began to break up, with everyone individually and with specific intent,
hugging everyone else. It was the modern equivalent of shaking hands all around. At
the same time, there were genuine feelings being communicated between different
individuals. Don Carlos, in particular, was loath to end his hug with Dawn. At the other
end of the spectrum, there was a momentary hesitation before Alex and Dawn hugged,
as if both were a bit too shy. But they quickly put aside the awkwardness and sealed
their pact with a full-bodied clasp.

Dawn then quietly made her way back to the room set aside for her, where she found her
bed to be a siren, irresistibly beckoning her. She slept for a good nine hours.

____________________________________

[1] E. A. Wallis Budge, The Egyptian Book of the Dead (The Papyrus of Ani) Egyptian
Text Transliteration and Translation, Dover Publications, Inc., New York, 1967 (based on
the original work published in 1895 by the Trustees of the British Museum).
[2] R. Eisenman & M. Wise, The Dead Sea Scrolls Uncovered, Penguin, New York, 1992.

[3] Michael Baigent, Richard Leigh, and Henry Lincoln, Holy Blood, Holy Grail, Delacore
Press, New York, 1982, 1983.

[4] Laurence Gardner, Bloodline of the Holy Grail, Barnes & Noble, New York, 1996;
Genesis of the Grail Kings, Bantam Press, London, 1999; Lost Secrets of the Sacred Ark;
Amazing Revelations of the Incredible Power of Gold, Element Books, HarperCollins
Publishers, London, 2003.
The Empress

Chapter Twelve

"What if you slept, and in your sleep, you dreamed? And what if, in your dream, you
dreamed you died and went to heaven, and there you picked a strange and beautiful
flower? And what if, you awoke, and found yourself holding that flower in your hand?
Ah yes. What then?" [1]

Dawn's dream was equally perplexing. Anna appeared again, dressed in her full regalia.
A whirling mist surrounded and partially concealed her. Dawn strained to see the
woman, as her tiara fell to one side, followed by all of her other gold and lapis lazuli
ornaments, beginning at the upper portions of her body and ending at Anna's lower
extremities. Abruptly, Anna turned and fled. Off to the right, a figure with the style and
grace of Sisi began walking in Dawn's direction. Abruptly, she met Barb, the Old Woman
-- as the two of them seemed to recognize one another. Their attention was quickly
captured by someone further to the right, someone who turned out to be Demi,
approaching them. Dawn wanted to know more, and began moving toward the three
women. But all three backed away and disappeared.

Dawn immediately awoke, feeling perplexed but rested. She didn't understand her
dream. But then she hadn't understood any of her dreams lately, until they manifested
themselves in her daily life! She would probably have to wait for this one to appear as
well. She yawned, thinking that profound, precognitive dreams were a lot less exciting
when they showed up every night.

After dressing and prepping for a noon flight out of Flagstaff, she had a hearty breakfast
and some light conversation with Demi. Everyone else, according to Demi, other than
Alex and Sisi had already eaten breakfast. As Dawn ate alone with Demi sitting at the
table with her, the hostess casually mentioned at one point, "I don't know where Alex
and Sisi are. Sisi is usually pretty punctual about breakfast."

Dawn chose to keep eating rather than risk a comment on why Alex and Sisi were not at
breakfast. She could feel a twinge of discomfort as she contemplated how Alex and Sisi
might have spent their evening. Dawn realized she had no claim on Alex. But when one
is on the verge of flying off on a dangerous mission with someone, there is an implied
relationship between the two people. One doesn't just pick someone out of the hat with
whom to risk one's life. 'It would be nice,' Dawn thought, 'to know the other person's
priorities are in keeping with your own. It's one thing for Alex to spend the night with
Sisi -- if indeed that's what he did. But it's quite another when he's about to leave with
another woman for parts unknown (terra incognita except in the annals of mystery and
adventure)!'

Demi seemed to be reading Dawn's mind. "I'm glad you and Alex seem to get along. It's
going to be a very unique and strange relationship the two of you are going to be
developing. Let's face it: there are no books on this kind of relationship, and no
workshops to tell you how to do it."
Dawn tried to smile. "It's pretty clear we can expect to encounter nothing we expected."

Demi was delighted with Dawn's understanding. Enthusiastically, she replied, "Exactly!"



Dawn's next stop, with her luggage in hand, was a return visit to the laboratory. Don
Carlos had indicated he wanted to see her before she left, and Dawn decided now was
the best time -- what with Alex still listed as "missing in action". As she entered the
laboratory, Don Carlos' face lit up. Dawn had a momentary concern for the safety of the
other people in the lab, and for the greater Phoenix area for that matter. But Don Carlos
had already distanced himself from any critical equipment or experiments. He was the
kind of man who liked to plan ahead -- a characteristic which was probably responsible
for his still being alive. He had already considered possible clumsiness bear traps which
might lie in his path, and had gone over in his mind ways to prevent his setting any of
them off. It was a reasonable precaution.

"Good morning," he said, having previously decided such a greeting was reasonably safe.

"Good morning, Don," Dawn replied.

Gesturing to her large purse, and the overnight bag slung over her shoulder, Carlos
asked, "Do you go everywhere with your luggage?" He made it sound like an attempt at
humor.

From Dawn's viewpoint, it simply meant she had her gold at hand, still secreted away in
various parts of her luggage and person. It also meant she had several changes of
clothes, recently acquired with the help of Demi, and available just in case. But for Don,
she simply replied, "All women need a large purse. It gives them a feeling of security."
Then she gave him her best smile.

Don Carlos swallowed hard, as if under some great test of his manhood. Then he slowly
and carefully opened a drawer and pulled out a small revolver, one designed for the
smaller hand of a female. It was the latest fashion statement for any pistol-packing
mamma. With extra care, he set the revolver on the lab bench and then set a small
package of bullets next to it. With some effort at control, he said, "David thought you
might want to have a weapon to carry. Alex will have one, and if you're not adverse to
it, you might want to carry one as well."

"As a matter of fact," Dawn replied, "I'm not adverse to it. I'm even a pretty fair shot."
To make her point, she picked up the weapon, checked to see if it was loaded -- it wasn't
-- handled it enough to get the feel of it, and then aimed it with both hands. "Nice
piece," she commented.

Don Carlos' response was less enthusiastic. "Then, I don't suppose you'll need me to
show you how to fire it." His voice carried a note of disappointment -- he had looked
forward to playing the part of the manly protector, helping the relatively defenseless
female. No such luck, apparently.

Dawn sensed his disappointment immediately. "Why don't you show me anyway?" She
quickly added, "I'm always open to the possibility of learning something new."

Don smiled broadly, and began the process of pointing out several features of the gun,
giving her the benefit of his vast expertise on the subject. Dawn replied with the
appropriate low murmurings of oo's and ahh's -- even when he was showing her
something of which she was already well aware.
Alex showed up in the middle of the lesson, only to be stopped dead in his tracks as he
saw what they were doing. The idea of cardiac arrest momentarily flashed through his
mind as he saw two notoriously clumsy people casually handling a deadly weapon. But
then he realized both of them appeared to actually know what they were doing with the
revolver. He was pleasantly surprised. Seeing Dawn's luggage nearby, he casually said,
"Looks like you're ready to go."

Dawn turned to Alex, and replied, "Anytime you're ready." Then she took a closer look.
Alex had all of the characteristics of someone who had simply not had enough sleep the
night before. But at the same time, someone who did not seem to mind in the least -- as
if the event (or events) that had kept him awake were sufficiently agreeable as to make
one voluntarily give up many hours of sleep time in order to indulge in said event(s).
Skeptically, she asked, "Are you ready to go?"

Alex, still in a slight fog, replied, "About as much as I ever will be."

Dawn looked skeptical, as Don Carlos asked, "Are you okay, Alex. You look tired." Alex
waved his hand in denial, but said nothing. Don turned to Dawn, laughing at the
apparent discontinuity. "You be sure and take good care of Alex."

Dawn grimaced, wondering just who was guarding whom!



The trip back to Flagstaff with Koco and her monster truck was notable for four reasons.
The first was Alex slept for virtually the entire trip. Really slept! This was no drill! He
was wiped!

The second was that Koco was able to fill almost the entire time with tales of the state of
Arizona, her friends, and herself; all in their never ending quests to secede from the
Union. Koco did manage to insert a third point which caught Dawn's attention: A
comment about the Phoenix, the bird that periodically arose from the flames of its own
making.

It seems the word, "Phoenix", derived from the Sumerian word for Ben-Bird. The
implication, according to Koco -- who was in turn quoting Zecharia Sitchin -- was that
the Phoenix was in reality a rocketship. As Dawn thought about it, the description of the
Phoenix did, in fact, correspond to a rocketship rising up from the flames of its rockets,
and then flying off as if it were a bird of some kind. It was, Dawn mused, a very strange
interpretation, but one that worked.

The fourth and final item of interest on the road trip to Flagstaff concerned a deck of
Tarot cards which Koco had brought along to give to Dawn. It was called the "Cosmic
Tarot Deck", and seemed particularly well done. Dawn had seen various decks before,
but in looking through the recently gifted one, she came across three cards, that of "The
Magician", "High Priestess", and "Justice". All three cards had a quality about them that
immediately caught her attention. For on each card showing the figure of a man and
woman, the eyes were drawn showing light from the lower portion of their eyes and
extending down in flaring beams. All three of the pictures reminded her of the light
behind Alex's eyes in her precognitive dream about him. To a lesser degree, they
resembled David's eyes, when he was in his element. But, of course, the drawings were
much more intense. Dawn had first thought the light in the eyes, beaming light rays
down and out, was an indication of a person's great love for another. But now she began
to wonder if they meant something else. She was still thinking about it, when they
boarded their flight for the City of Angels.


Banks in Los Angeles are in something of a quandary. On the one hand, they want
buildings which stand out and thereby encourage people to come and deposit their
money. On the other hand, they don't want buildings which stand out and encourage
people to come and take their money -- particularly during riots or other local, festive
holidays. The bank Dawn and Alex visited, was a compromise between the two
extremes. It had the old world fashion of massive structure as a means of suggesting a
solid, secure and safe place. But it also had the external trappings of banners and
ribbons to imply a bazaar or art festival. Apparently, on this particular day in mid June,
there was some kind of local celebration, and the bank was milking it for all it was
worth. Such milking is, of course, an LA tradition. It's what LA, in fact, does best.

Dawn had already convinced Alex to stop on the way from LA International to the bank,
in order for her to buy a new, very fashionable and very expensive dress from one of the
local purveyors of fashionable and expensive female apparel. "How else," she had
argued, "Can I pull off the charade of being a rich, spoiled-rotten female if I don't dress
the part?" Alex, in the face of such overpowering logic and rationale, had had no
response worth mentioning. Dawn also insisted she continue to wear her blonde wig,
and Alex submit to enough make-up to disguise himself as well. He thought it was a bit
overdone, but had no really good, logical reason to object to Dawn's caution in disguising
his appearance.

Their entrance into the bank, with Dawn in all of her glory and Alex some $1100 poorer,
was in the grand, old-European, modern-French style, i.e., with bravado, assumption of
total authority, and enough hubris at having to mingle with the masses to have
intimidated the Czarina of Russia. Dawn walked up to the attractive lady behind the twin
desk plates of "Reception" and "Deborah", and announced, "I'm here to see the president
of the bank. And I'm in a hurry."

Deborah (whose last name was not "Reception") was appropriately intimidated.
However, she did have enough moxy to reply, "I'm afraid he's in court. Something about
'misappropriation ...'"

Dawn cut her off. "Then who is in charge?"

"The vice-president," Deborah tentatively offered.

Dawn gave Deborah the look of one-last-moment-of-patience. "Miss Deborah. I want to

see the vice-president. Now!" Alex stepped forward slightly, as if to emphasize the
demand.

It turns out there were a slew of vice-presidents at the bank. Deborah knew this, and
also knew she didn't like most of them -- particularly the senior vice-presidents. They
were all, she had long ago decided, pompous asses!. There was no way she wanted to
call any one of them and pass along this rich woman's demands. That would be putting
young, fragile Deborah between the rock (Dawn) and the hard place (any one of several
senior vice-presidents). 'But,' Deborah suddenly thought, 'There was Frank!' Deborah
liked Frank (and Frank liked Deborah -- feelings bank policy specifically forbade). Frank
was suddenly Deborah's only port in a storm. She immediately picked up the telephone
to call him.

"Frank... I mean, Mr. Lawrence," she said, her voice only moderately under control.
"There's a very important person here who needs to talk to you." Then, pleadingly,
"Could you please come down to the main lobby to meet her? I can't leave my desk."
She seemed relieved as she listened to the answer. After a quick and deeply felt, "Thank
you", she turned back to Dawn and said, "He'll be right down."
Frank was true to Deborah's word. Dawn had barely enough time to look around
condescendingly and pass verbally on the lack of proper decor in the bank's furnishings,
employees, and long term prospects. As Frank approached, he was all gallantry. To
Dawn, he said, "I'm Mr. Lawrence, vice-president of the bank. How may I help you?"

"To begin with," Dawn replied, her voice appropriately incensed, "a little privacy."

"Of course!" the vice-president replied. "We can use my office." To Deborah, he added,
with considerably more passion than necessary, "Thank you, Deborah." Then he turned
and indicated the direction for Dawn to take -- which turned out to be a rough
approximation of the actual direction she had already begun walking in.

Unfortunately, there was a slight diversion in the initially intended course. On Deborah's
desk, in the right hand corner were miscellaneous artifacts of the working woman's desk,
complete with several plastic file holders filled with a variety of vertical, manila files.
There was also a small photograph of a child and his dog, a small square container of
pencils and pens, and a small round dish of staples. As Dawn turned with a certain
amount of huff and self-importance, she inadvertently swung her purse -- the heavy,
gold-laden backpack combination. The swinging, potentially lethal accessory of the
woman's art managed to hit and knock to the floor the complete inventory of this corner
of Deborah's desk. As the items went flying, Dawn hesitated, and then instantly deciding
her role called for ignoring the conflagration, walked away as if nothing was amiss.
Dawn was playing the part of The Empress, the powerful, fulfilled woman capable of
managing or attaining any goal. As such, she could not be imagined to take note of such
trivia.

Alex almost lost it, but had seen enough of Dawn's work to quickly dismiss the event and
follow her. His only fleeting concern was that Dawn might later be identified by her
modus operandi. The vice-president, meanwhile was considerably more surprised.
Fortunately, for him he quickly decided his position was such he could not demean
himself or his client by taking note of the action. Fortunately, Frank had taken the series
of lectures given by the bank on Proper Pomposity in the Boardroom, and thus was well
equipped to ignore the various artifacts crashing onto the floor. Deborah, on the other
hand, was simply stunned. And without Alex's experience and Frank's formal training,
she had no apparent choice but to get down and clean up the mess. Which she did, her
mind immersed in a jumble of thoughts.

Frank caught up with Dawn just in time to escort her into the executive elevator. But
then as Alex followed them in, Frank said to him, "Excuse me..."

Dawn gracefully put her hand on Frank's arm and said, "He's with me." Frank acquiesced
immediately and selected the appropriate third floor as the elevator's next stop.

Coming out of the elevator, they entered a wide hall which led to a balcony overlooking
the main lobby. Glass walled offices ringed the upper level, with each office opening up
to the balcony. Each office was thus afforded an excellent view of the lobby area, and in
turn each office somewhat on display itself. Some degree of privacy was afforded by the
angle of view from the lobby to the back of each office. The only other, 'authorized'
admission to privacy was curtains across the outer glass walls, but which were only
marginally useful as the bank's policy was to generally leave the curtains open. This
afforded the higher ranking executives the opportunity to keep tabs on the lower ranking
officers.

As they approached Frank's office, Dawn felt an overpowering sense of discomfort. She
almost stumbled -- a move which was immediately apparent to Alex, but which the vice-
president, leading the threesome, did not see at all. Dawn looked down into the main
lobby, trying to guess the cause of her anxiety. Then she saw it. Anna! She was
apparently with four men, none of whom looked as if they had any business of their own
in the bank. As Dawn looked down in stark disbelief, Anna slowed her purposeful walk
into bank, as if picking up on something herself.

"Ms. Lenki," Frank said, interrupting her thoughts. Dawn turned to see him looking at
her expectantly. Then she realized he was allowing her to enter the office first. Dawn
didn't dare take another look in Anna's direction, and immediately ducked into the office.
Taking the chair furthest from the door (and thus from the window and the view from
down below), she set down. She then looked at Alex. He had been watching her closely,
but not understanding. He simply looked bewildered, holding his hands with palms out,
saying in effect he had no idea what was happening.

Then as the vice-president sat down, opened a drawer, and pulled out several forms,
Dawn made a comment which Frank was never likely to understand, and to which he
devoted only a mere two seconds in attempting to decipher it. "I'm glad we decided to
use your office, Mr. Lawrence. The main lobby below, particularly the entrance, seemed
so... Patronizing."

Frank looked blank, while Alex took a slow, deep breath. Turning to the window, he took
up the stance of what might have been considered appropriate for a body guard ready to
repel invaders from outside the office. One hand went to his weapon neatly lodged in its
shoulder holster, while the other pulled the curtains closed. Alex left just enough of a
crack for him to see out, and yet reduce the chance of anyone recognizing him from
outside. Two senior vice-presidents on the other side of the building, took immediate
notice of the closed curtain, but each decided to bide their time before taking action,
thinking perhaps some customer was looking for a bit more privacy -- the only
circumstance for which closing the curtains was permissible... And indeed the only
reason the curtains existed in the first place.

Down below in the lobby, Anna was still feeling something, and looked around the room.
The closing curtains caught her eye and she looked up at the office where Dawn, Alex
and Frank were now concealed behind the light brown and green, decorative curtains.
Silently, she made note of the office's location as she approached the receptionist's
desk. At the same time, Deborah saw Anna with the four men trailing behind her, and
quickly began putting the more precious items from her desk into drawers. She then
braced for the new arrival's first move, thinking only that two arrogant and intimidating
women arriving within an half an hour of each other was more than Deborah was likely
capable of tolerating.

Frank, meanwhile, only momentarily nonplused by the closing of the curtains -- and with
an immediate vow to open them the second Dawn left -- asked her business.

Dawn smiled pleasantly and condescendingly. "I'm taking a holiday in the South Seas
this year, visiting friends in Sidney and New Zealand. I may perhaps do a bit of skiing on
the southern island. Switzerland is such a bore this time of year!" Dawn dismissed
Switzerland with a subtle hand gesture. "I will be taking care of several items of
business before I go. You know, the usual things: appropriate letters of credit, powers of
attorney, and so forth." As the banker seemed to be properly impressed, Dawn
continued, "My immediate concern here is to make a small transfer of funds." Handing
him a small slip of paper from her purse, she added, "From several accounts to a group
of others, all out of state."

Frank looked at the slip of paper containing eleven account numbers and a dollar value of
some fifty million -- conveniently split into appropriate amounts per account! It was the
dollar amount that gathered his immediate attention. He was about to hesitate when
Dawn added, pointedly, "I'm in a bit of a hurry. I'm sure you can handle the details."
Frank replied, his voice a little scratchy, "Yes, of course. I will, naturally, need some
form of identification..." Dawn handed him her passport, along with others papers
testifying to her identity and authority -- one of which was wholly fabricated. Frank took
them, looked them over, and said, "It will just take a few moments for me to go into the
computer."

Dawn was gracious. "Of course." Then, smiling at Frank's initial reaction to the photo in
her passport, she added, "I've just recently decided to become a blonde. Woman's
prerogative."

The banker smiled in a modest agreement, handed the passport back to Dawn, and then
turned to his right, to begin calling up the accounts on his computer, including signature
cards and other details. Dawn looked in the other direction toward Alex who was still
staring out the office window toward the main lobby. Alex turned back to look over his
shoulder at Dawn. He had seen Anna and the four men, but had not recognized any of
them. He suspected these five were the ones to whom Dawn had referred, but only
because of their appearance: one forceful woman and four accompanying bodyguards.
But then he had lost sight of them.

For several moments, no one said anything. Frank did his banker thing, with Dawn
cooperating whenever necessary. As they finished, Frank smiled. "Everything certainly
appears to be in order," he admitted. "The actual transfers will take a few minutes, but
it's not necessary for you to wait. I can handle everything from here." Frank put on his
confidence persona. It fit him well.

Dawn stirred, as if to leave. But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alex make
some sort of signal. Instead of the traditional "hurry-up' signal of a rotating hand, he
was holding his palm flat and straight. Dawn guessed it to mean "stall" -- or that the
coast was not clear. (Of course, in Los Angeles, it almost never is.) Dawn turned back
to the banker. "I'll wait," she replied. "Something my daddy used to tell me. Never
leave anything to chance. It's the kind of thinking that made him very wealthy."

"Of course," Frank said. He continued to smile, not knowing quite what to say next.

"So," Dawn said, buying some time, "tell me about you and Deborah."

Frank's mouth dropped, in a distinctly un-banker like style. Alex's eyes rolled up, as he
tried to imagine Frank's reaction without having to turn and look at the banker. Dawn
continued to smile.



Getting out of the bank was simpler than they had hoped. Once the bank transfer had
been completed, and after a few more minutes of stall (with Frank admitting to his
current affair with Deborah), Alex signaled to Dawn it was time to leave. Dawn asked for
an alternate route out of the bank -- supposedly in order to avoid the riffraff in the
lobby. Frank obliged with instructions, and Dawn and Alex left with dispatch, quickly out-
distancing the banker.

As they made their way to the elevator, Dawn could see an office across the way, with its
curtains now drawn and a man standing outside, his arms folded in the traditional pose
of the armed, plain-clothes security guard. Dawn could feel Anna's presence, but no one
stood in their way. Another man stood at the elevators, which Alex and Dawn walked
past on their way to the rear stairs. The man didn’t seem to take notice of either of
them. The disguises Dawn had insisted upon, were working -- at least for the moment.
Of course with Anna the result wasn’t as clear. She might have been as intuitive as
Dawn.
Once outside the bank, both of them breathed a bit more easily. Dawn then waited just
inside while Alex retrieved the limousine they had rented. Once inside the limo, the two
of them relaxed and each took a deep breath. Then they looked at each other.

"Your friends..." Alex began, questioning the identity of the woman and four
companions.

"A patronizing group, I know," she replied, partially in code in the event the driver was
listening, "But they have their moments. I'm just glad we didn't have to stop and chat."

"So am I," Alex replied, with considerable emphasis.

Then Dawn reached over with her hand to wipe off a bead of sweat from Alex's face.
"You may need to clean up when we get to the airport," she said. She did not add that
Alex's make-up was being marred by a few beads of sweat. Or that the cosmetic
disguise she had insisted upon, might very well have saved them near the elevators.

"I must admit," Alex said, changing the direction their unvoiced conversation was
heading, "As a high-brow, overbearing and obnoxious witch, you should get an Oscar.
Very convincing!"

Dawn checked Alex's smile for intentions, decided there was nothing serious there, and
replied, "I rather object to your patriarchal tone. There is absolutely nothing wrong with
being a witch, any more than being a medical doctor. It all depends on what one does
with their talents. And the truth of the matter is that witches were Druids and pagans.
Druids were extremely religious, and pagan is just another word for environmentalist.
You should avoid the male chauvinist role. It doesn't become you.”

"I'll keep that in mind," Alex answered, "In case they ever offer me the part."

Both of them smiled at each other, tapping into a rare moment of genuine camaraderie.



At LA International, they bought tickets for a flight to Sydney. Then, after a casual stroll
about the airport, they quietly headed for one of the restaurants. In a prearranged
fashion, they met a friend of Alex's, who ushered them out of the terminal to her mini-
van. They were on the road within ten minutes, heading south. Dawn set in the back
seat, while Alex joined the woman named Michelle in the front. The suspicion of a former
relationship between the two people occurred to Dawn, but she decided not to pursue the
matter. With Alex's apparent hoard of lady friends, Dawn decided anything was
possible. They were out of the LA area and on the highway south, when Dawn took the
opportunity to doze for a few minutes. Before she knew it, they were entering the outer
environs of San Diego.

The drive though San Diego brought back more than a few memories for Dawn. But they
were soon through the city, and crossing the border into Tijuana, Mexico. It was then
Michelle asked the question that had been on her mind. As they waited in the line of
vehicles on the United States side of the border, she said, "I'm delighted to drive you
down to Tijuana, Alex. It's been a delight to see you again. And to meet you, Dawn.
But I am somewhat curious. Why didn't you just take a plane?"

Alex smiled in a good-natured sort of way. "You know me and privacy, Michelle. Leaving
the country via air, you have to show your passport. This way is a bit less public."

"You really think someone cares?" (Michelle was young and naive.)
Alex laughed to hide his true feelings. "You never can tell."

Dawn groaned slightly, and wondered what Alex had ever seen in Michelle. Other than
her young, firm and wonderful body, her lightly tanned skin and shimmering hair, her...
Oh, never mind!

Michelle left them off at a Tijuana hotel, supposedly where they were to spend the night.
As soon as Michelle had gone, Alex and Dawn hired a driver to take them to the local
airport. There Alex acquired a private plane for the flight to Mexico City. The plane
turned out to be a reject from the local Tree-Top-Airlines consortium, but did have
enough room for a pilot, two passengers, and their carry-on luggage. It also afforded
Dawn an unparalleled scenic tour of the miscellaneous mountains, cactus-strewn plains,
and dried up river beds along an approximately sinusoidal route between Tijuana and
Mexico City. It was a ride comparable to the most advanced adventure ride at
Disneyworld, only much longer. More like hanging from a kite, one which was in turn
tied to a four wheel drive vehicle running the Baja in the off season. There was also the
added feature of the lack of assurance that anyone would survive the trip.

The night was spent in a moderately priced tourist hotel in Mexico City, the Oberoi
Continental. The couple slept on twin beds, and any dreams Dawn might have had, were
overshadowed by her constantly grabbing the sheets and headboard, trying to ground
herself while her psyche was still reliving the flight. It was a clear-air-turbulence kind of
night.

The next morning afforded little relief. They had decided not to hire a rental car in that a
credit card would be required. Instead, Alex had located a driver with his own set of
wheels, and which for a hotly-contested, negotiated price would take them wherever
they wanted to go.

Leaving part of their luggage with the hotel's concierge (but not Dawn's backpack/purse
nor a backpack Alex had brought from Phoenix), they headed out. Dawn had also
insisted on checking out of the hotel and thereby having their passports returned. It
seemed the prudent thing to do.

Thus fully equipped and loaded for bear, they were ready for the next phase of their
journey: From Tenochtitlan (Mexico City) to Teotihuacan and the Pyramids of the Sun
and Moon.



Anna Zedek had a presence such that she inevitably received immediate attention upon
walking into any room. The secretary had promptly inquired as to her business, and just
as quickly escorted her to a room reserved for the more imperial of clients. For Anna
truly was The Empress, not the understudy role Dawn had momentarily assumed.

As the secretary returned to her desk, Anna went inside the private room, closed and
locked the door, and without hesitation set down behind the immaculate desk. She
quickly entered her code into the computer/communication keyboard, and then set back
to wait. Five minutes later, Nathan's face appeared on the console.

"Where have you been?" Nathan demanded.

"I received your message in the limo. I rather assumed you would want me to wait until
I was in a secure communications location." Anna did not even flinch at Nathan's tone,
dismissing his demanding attitude in the same manner as she had done many times
before. "Was there some sort of hurry? We still have a few years left before the end of
the calendar," she said in a faintly mocking tone.
Nathan ignored the oblique insult, having learned from past experience it gained him
nothing to attend to Anna's refusal to acknowledge his superiority, especially in private.
Instead, he concentrated on business. "And the news from the bank?" he asked.

"Nothing yet," Anna answered. "I left instructions for our man at the bank to check at
the end of each day, beginning tomorrow evening. He will report directly to you if he
finds any large sums of money being moved."

"Good," Nathan replied. "I have another..." (Nathan almost said assignment) "mission
you might find interesting." When Anna's silence implied she had yet to be convinced,
Nathan added, "It appears our associate, Gilbert Lenki, may not have been as loyal as we
might have hoped."

Anna's outward expression was subdued and business-like, hiding a more intense
emotional response inside. "Are we talking hearsay, or do you actually have some
evidence?"

"I have enough facts to convince me to investigate further," Nathan countered, his voice
rising to his "full-authority" level. "Through a rather exhaustive computer search, we
have found a link between him and an Alexander Dukas in Colorado. Mr. Dukas is now,
apparently, a fugitive from our justice. I've assigned Kurt to the effort, however, and I'm
sure he will be successful."

Anna's internal feelings flared as Nathan recounted his findings. On a cellular level, she
knew this wasn’t good news. Security could have been compromised by Gilbert,
imperiling her own plans.

Nathan, unaware of Anna's personal agenda, quickly added fuel to the fire. "There's also
something quite unusual. Lenki's body is missing."

"Missing!?" Anna reacted. "How can it be missing? It's a dead body!"

"It was taken from the hospital. We don't yet know how or why."

"Some sort of cult thing? Did he have followers?"

"It's being looked into," Nathan replied. "Meanwhile, we've also uncovered the fact he
was planning an unauthorized trip to Mexico City. We suspect he was taking his alleged
fiancé, but whom we now suspect was merely his personal secretary."

"Where is she now?" Anna asked, almost conversationally.

"She is temporarily at liberty. She diverted us on a merry chase to Chicago, but it's only
a matter of time before we locate her. Michaels is on top of the situation. After losing
track of her in Seattle, he has ample motivation to find her forthwith!"

Anna thought to herself that Michaels was in deep trouble. At the same time, she
decided not to rub the salt into Nathan's wound with a comment about his having been
outwitted by a female. Instead, she remained silent, apparently thinking about what
Nathan had told her.

Nathan then got to the point of his call. "We are also aware that Mr. Lenki had recently
had communications with a group out of Sedona, Arizona, who are now hovering around
Tlamacas!"
Anna straightened involuntarily. Things were suddenly becoming very serious indeed.
"Who are they?" she blurted out, her poise momentarily at risk.

"Their cover story is they're looking for UFOs."

Anna almost laughed. "You're worried about some nuts, some fruitcakes from Arizona?"

"My concern," Nathan corrected her, "Is that Lenki was on his way to Mexico City, and
it's a short drive from there to Tlamacas. Quite possibly the 'nuts' -- as you so aptly
described them -- may have had some connection with Lenki." Abruptly, he added, "I
need someone competent to check this out."

Anna's expression implied she was amenable to Nathan's suggestion. Quickly, she made
her decision on the basis of her own reasons and personal agenda -- notably distinct
from Nathan's. The portion of her thinking which he heard was, "I'm on my way. I
understand Tlamacas is quite lovely this time of year."

Nathan grunted at the feminine observation, while Anna continued to smile, her mind
already planning a million details.

_______________________________________

[1] Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Sun

Chapter Thirteen

As Dawn watched the driver weave his sooped-up vehicle along the "demolition derby"
highway, she had a momentary flashback to that peaceful and nostalgic time when they
had flown "Tree-Top Airlines" on their "Flight of Adventure" from Tijuana to Mexico City.
But then she recalled the Post Traumatic Stress Disorder of last night's attempted
sleep, and decided neither of the south-of-the-border travel arrangements had been to
her liking. Riding in the Le Mans stock-car-derby-reject was bad enough, but Dawn
didn't even know why they were acting like tourists and visiting Teotihuacan and the
Pyramids in the first place. Alex had not yet taken the time to explain.

Dawn turned to look at him: his eyes and attention apparently intent upon the
surroundings and the progress of the vehicle. Casually she asked, "What do you know
about this place?"

Alex turned to look at her, his face expressionless. Then after a moment's thought, he
said, "Teotihuacan means the ‘Place of the Gods’, and some of its earliest inner
structures may date from as early as the fourth millennium B.C. The pyramids of the
Sun and Moon, however, were probably raised to their monumental sizes much later. It's
now generally accepted that the Olmecs were the people who actually built the pyramids,
and this may have occurred some time around 1392 B.C."

"That's a pretty specific date," Dawn replied, with a little laugh.

Alex's smile became more genuine, as he acknowledged her point. "The recorded tales
of the local ancient inhabitants tell of a day when the Earth fell into darkness, when the
sun failed to appear in the east at its normal time. Only at Teotihuacan, according to
legend, was there light -- a divine flame which continued to burn there. The concerned
gods asked for a volunteer among their own to jump into the divine flame and, by this
sacrifice, bring back the sun. A god named Tecuciztecatl -- or however in the world you
pronounce it -- agreed to take the plunge. But after putting aside his glittering attire, he
would step forward toward the flame, only to lose courage each time. Then a god named
Nanauatzin volunteered and unhesitatingly jumped into the fire. Shamed by this act,
Tecuciztecatl followed suit, but landed only at the flame's edge. As the gods were
consumed, the Sun and Moon reappeared on the horizon."

"That's a lovely story. But what does this have to do with the date?"

Alex held up his hand to forestall Dawn's question. "There's more. It turned out while
the Sun and Moon had reappeared, they remained motionless in the sky. Differing
versions suggest that either one god shot an arrow at the sun, or the Wind God blew at
it. In either case, the Sun resumed its motion, followed by the Moon. The cycle of day
and night resumed and the Earth was saved!

"The reason I mention this tale," Alex added, "is because of the description of the long
night when the Sun and Moon did not rise on schedule, and the implication that both Sun
and Moon had ceased to move across the sky. This correlates with the Biblical story in
Joshua 10:13, when the Sun and Moon stood still. Figure it out: If the Sun and Moon
stood still over the Middle East, then a third of the way around the Earth in MesoAmerica,
the Sun and Moon might be located right on the horizon. This explains the long night,
and the observation of the Sun and Moon both standing still on the horizon."

"But you don't think," Dawn asked, "That the Sun and Moon actually stood still?"

"Not precisely," Alex answered. "But I do think the Earth ceased to rotate, and thus the
Sun and Moon appeared to stand still. There was probably even some jerking around, as
the Earth's rotation was interrupted by a close encounter with another planetary body.
This would account for the other Meso and South American legends which talk of the Sun
rising in the east, and then immediately setting in the east, and then after a long night
rising again in the east."

Dawn was incredulous. "You think the Earth just ceased to rotate. How is that possible?
How do you even get a 'handle' to stop the rotation? Friction?"

"Good question," Alex replied. "Actually, you don't stop the Earth from rotating. The
main bulk continues merrily along, spinning on its axis. But the continents, floating on
the mantle, would be attracted to the gravitational pull of a nearby planet during a close
encounter and would shift accordingly. The 'handle' is, therefore, the difference in
gravitational attraction between the continents and the ocean depths.

"Note also," Alex quickly interjected, just as Dawn was about to speak, "That as the other
planet moves away and the gravitational attraction lessens, the continents cease to move
against the rotation of the Earth's core and mantle, and effectively catch up with the
normal rotation. So not only do you have a 'handle' to cause the continents to
temporarily cease to rotate, but also to return to the normal rotation."

Dawn was now curious about something else. "And you believe all of this?"

Alex laughed. "Oh, yes! There's entirely too much evidence to support it. Read
Immanuel Velikovsky's books: Worlds in Collision, Ages in Chaos, and the like. [1]
You'll be amazed."

"I'll do that," Dawn replied, the suggestion hanging in the air that she would be checking
Alex's story -- his recounting of such astronomical incredulity had all the ingredients of
an elaborate joke. However, as she would eventually discover, he was completely
serious.

Alex just grinned. "What else can I tell you about Teotihuacan?"

Dawn laughed, "Something I can believe."

Alex shrugged his shoulders. "Depends on what you're capable of believing, I suppose."
Then, still smiling, he added, "You know what they say: 'Believing is seeing.'"

"Try me," Dawn replied, her credulity guard on the ready.

Alex calmly took the challenge. "The Pyramid of the Moon is built upon slightly higher
ground than the Pyramid of the Sun, but the two pyramids have the same height above
sea level -- the Pyramid of the Sun being built on ground some thirty feet lower than the
Pyramid of the Moon. The Pyramid of the Moon is at the north end of a long avenue,
misnamed by the Aztecs, the Avenue of the Dead. The avenue runs south for nearly five
miles, a distance longer than the longest runways at any modern airport. Furthermore,
the avenue is straight as an arrow, something of a technological feat for the time of its
construction. The Pyramid of the Sun is on the east side of the Avenue, some 800
meters -- or roughly eight football fields -- to the south of the Pyramid of the Moon and
roughly 255 meters to the east of the Avenue. Curiously, the ratio of those two
distances is almost exactly equal to Pi, the ratio of a circle’s circumference to its
diameter."

Alex added, a slight grin on his face. "By the way, there is no real reason to assume the
Sun pyramid is of any greater significance than that of the Moon. In fact, because the
Moon's pyramid is at the head of the main drag, the so-called Avenue of the Dead, one
might assume it is the more important pyramid."

"That makes sense," Dawn replied, relieved her gullibility wasn't being currently tested.

"The same holds true," Alex added, "for the Pyramids of Giza in Egypt. The Second
Pyramid at Giza is shorter than the Great Pyramid, but only because the Second Pyramid
is built on higher ground. The top of each of the Egyptian pyramids is at the same height
above sea level."

"Really?" Dawn begin to suspect Alex might again be leading her astray.

"There's more," Alex grinned. "Both of the two largest great pyramids are built on
artificial platforms, whose sides measure almost the same dimensions: about 754 feet at
Giza and 745 feet at Teotihuacan. On the other hand, the Great Pyramid at Giza has four
triangular sides that rise at an angle of 52 degrees, while the Sun Pyramid has a slope of
only 43 1/2 degrees. The 52 degree slope turns out to be very difficult on a structural
basis, and has been attained only in the Giza Pyramids. It appears, for example, that
when Pharaoh Sneferu built his pyramid at Dahshur, his first attempt at 52 degrees
collapsed, and the angle was then changed to 43 1/2 degrees in midconstruction. The
result was what has come to be known as the Bent Pyramid. It's noteworthy that
another Egyptian pyramid, that of Pharoah Zoser's at Sakkara, rose at 43 1/2 degrees,
while subsequent pyramids after the ones at Giza also followed the 43 1/2 degree slope."

"That's a strange angle," Dawn remarked. "I would have thought half of 90 degrees, or
45 degrees would have been a more likely figure."

"Ahhh," Alex replied, his grin growing ever larger. "Then you would not be thinking like
an Egyptian. The 52 degree angle derives from a formula that says a pyramid's height
should be equal to half its side, divided by Pi and multiplied by four."

Dawn frowned. "You're kidding?"

"No," Alex quickly replied. "A 754 foot side, divided by two equals 377. Divide this by
3.1416, you get 120. When you multiply 120 by four you get a height of 480 feet.
Essentially, the circumference of the square base is divided by 2 Pi, 2 Pi being a very
common number in geometry."

"And the 43 1/2 degree angle of the Pyramid of the Sun?"

"Instead of multiplying by four, you multiply by three."

Dawn looked at Alex for several moments, while Alex merely grinned. Slowly, Dawn's
mind garnered the information. "The implication is the pyramids in Egypt and
Teotihuacan are working under the same geometrical considerations -- as if they're
sharing knowledge."
"A reasonable conclusion," Alex confirmed. "But keep in mind: All of the pyramids of
Meso-America follow this same formula. Furthermore, except for the Great Pyramid at
Giza, Egyptian pyramids were equipped only with a lower passageway that typically
began at or near the edge of the pyramid's base and continued under it. A passage
similar to the Egyptian motif was discovered in 1978 under the Pyramid of the Sun!"

Dawn had a sudden premonition. "We're not going down into the pyramid are we?"

"Of course," Alex replied. Then seeing her expression, "But just for a little bit."

Dawn grimaced, determined not to show any more fear than she had already shown.
Alex was already grinning in that superior kind of way. Dawn really hated that look.

Abruptly the rented car came to a screeching halt, while the cloud of dust that had been
pursuing it for miles, finally caught up with it and smothered it with a heavy film of fine,
dry soil and rock. The driver turned around, smiling. "Roger Jimenez get you here in
good time, yes?"

"You did very well," Alex agreed. "And you'll wait here for us?"

"You betcha sweet boatem I wait," Roger confidently replied, grinning from ear to ear.
With money having the power it did, there seemed little doubt he would be true to his
word. Without additional negotiations, the two tourists grabbed their backpacks and got
out of the taxi.



The late spring heat had been temporarily vanquished by a cloudy day. But even without
the illuminating rays of the sun beating down on them, the pyramids were still
spectacular. Alex and Dawn entered the complex from the southwest corner, through
the Great Compound, formerly what might have been a market place and now used for a
Cultural Museum. Across from the Great Compound, stood the temple of Quetzalcoatl, a
small pyramid, decorated with elaborate sculptures, included the heads of feathered
serpents. Turning north, they followed the broad "Avenue of the Dead" as it crossed the
San Juan River (which had, incidentally, been rechanneled in ancient times to cross the
Avenue at right angles).

At a considerable distance beyond and just off to the right, they could see the Pyramid of
the Sun -- a massive, multi-tiered, powerful structure, with an aggregate volume of
some ten million cubic feet. The largest of Teotihuacan's pyramids, it loomed as high as
a twenty story building, rising ominously out of the dry, dusty ground. At the far end of
the Avenue, they could see the Pyramid of the Moon, distinctly different from the Sun's
pyramid with a great square enclosure before it and a separate flat topped pyramidal
structure jutting out in the direction of the Avenue.

Alex and Dawn walked rapidly along the Avenue toward the Pyramid of the Sun, with
Alex leading the way and setting the pace. Dawn found herself walking much faster than
normal in order to keep up. Until she suddenly decided she didn't need to do so.
Without fanfare, she stopped and began looking around, taking in the vistas, and
generally appearing unaware of Alex's hurried intentions. A young local peddler, sensing
a sale, quickly approached her. Holding several maps up, he asked, "Lady need a map?"
Dawn smiled, and began the process of bargaining on the price.

Alex had at first been oblivious to Dawn's stopping and had gone another thirty feet
before he realized his companion had stopped. Without a word, he turned to see her
with the small boy, just as Dawn received her map in exchange for far too much money.
Alex frowned slightly, and walked back to where she was now examining her newly
purchased prize.

As if mystified by her actions, he asked, "Something wrong?"

"No, no," Dawn cheerfully replied. "I was just buying a map of the area." Showing Alex,
she added, "It's an archeological map, a visitor's guide to the local area."

"So, I see," Alex replied. Then he added, rather stiffly, "It's a National Geographic map.
They're free with a subscription to the magazine."

"So it is," Dawn noticed. No longer sure of the efficacy of her purchase, she said nothing
more.

Alex watched her for just a second, and then said, "There are several things I think you'll
find of interest at the Pyramid of the Sun -- particularly the underground passages.
However, you might want to put the map away before we get to the pyramid," he said.

Dawn looked at him, surprised. Calmly, she asked, "Why?"

"We need to get into the underground passages," Alex explained. "And we may have to
pose as archeologists in order to do so. Archeologists don't buy tourist maps."

"Oh," Dawn replied. Then, as she stopped to put the map in her backpack, she added,
"Maybe they should. Having a map before excavating could probably save them a lot of
time."

Alex grinned, continuing to watch her until she was done and they had begun walking
again. Then he added, "It's probably a good thing you didn't leave your backpack at the
hotel. Even though it may get a little heavy with all of the walking we're about to do, it
does make you look more like an archaeologist. And with my backpack, we just might
pull it off."

Dawn didn't mention her backpack was already heavy, weighted down with her private
hoard of gold. Instead, she said, "It's not a backpack. It's a purse."

Alex glanced at her and then looked forward. "It has two straps which fit over both
shoulders and it rests on your back. It looks like a backpack to me."

"That's just to allow me to have free hands. It's still a purse. It's just in style right now.
Very practical, and very much in style."

"And which, I suppose, is why you always carry it with you. Your purse, I mean."

Dawn's smile turned into a mischievous grin. "I don't go anywhere without my
backpack." Then, as if to emphasize her point, she added, "It's a female thing."

Alex shrugged his shoulders, deciding there were some things one didn't argue about.



Gaining access to the descending passages beneath the Pyramid of the Sun went pretty
much as expected. Alex first tried to convince a laid back guard that as archaeologists,
he and Dawn should be allowed into the underground, which while occasionally open to
tourists, was temporarily closed. This ploy, of course, didn't work. But the time honored
tradition of bribing the guard did.
Alex and Dawn, after having expended quite a few dollars, entered the lower bowels of
the Pyramid of the Sun, descending down ancient steps some twenty feet before entering
into what might have been a converted cave. As they descended, they switched on their
lights -- the ones Alex had carried in his backpack. There had been no possibility of the
pyramid's recently installed interior lighting being turned on by the guard for the benefit
of the "archaeologists". That might have alerted the guard's superiors. And they would
have wanted to share in the bribe... or increase it.

The descending passageway quickly leveled out as the two people began finding their
way down the long, narrow tunnel with its ceiling of heavy stone blocks and walls
smoothed with plaster. From there they entered a subterranean passageway, complete
with adobe walls which occasionally diverted them from their course. Dawn made a
concentrated effort not to think about the thousands of tons of rock and stone above her,
and as a consequence, thought about it continuously.

After making their way along the tunnel for roughly 150 feet, they came to a spot which
turned out to be exactly below the first stage of the step-pyramid. At that point, the
horizontal tunnel spread into two elongated side chambers, both of which flared away
from the central tunnel like spread wings. In this inner portion of the underground
passageways, the ceiling was a more comfortable seven foot high. Dawn breathed a bit
more easily. The relief of taking in more air also allowed her the presence of mind to
notice that the floors were made of thick sheets of mica, and drainage pipes which had
been built by the ancients for some unknown purpose.

When she mentioned the floors to Alex, he replied, "The mica is a silicone type material.
It's resistant to water, heat, and electrical currents." Then he stopped and turned to
Dawn for emphasis. "This type of mica is found naturally only in Brazil!"

Leaving that fact for Dawn to dwell on, he turned and forged ahead. Dawn followed,
wondering about the implications of such a statement. Eventually, after another 200
feet, they reached the end of the tunnel where it became a hollowed out area resembling
a cloverleaf, supported by adobe columns and basalt slabs.

Alex had paid little attention to anything as they made their way, apparently intent upon
some specific task. When they reached the "cloverleaf", he stopped and casually
mentioned, "For what it's worth, we are now at a point exactly underneath the peak of
the pyramid."

Dawn looked at him askance, as he asked her to direct her light to the ceiling. When she
had done so, he began measuring with a protractor several lines emanating from a single
point and carved into the overhead stone. He made several notes of his measurements,
did a quick calculation, and then began to look at the results for several minutes. Dawn
waited patiently, watching the man.

Then quietly, primarily to himself, he said, "Damn! Fifteen and a half degrees!" With
that, he turned, as if ready to leave. Abruptly, he remembered Dawn. Turning back to
her, he asked, "Seen enough?" His voice suggested his disappointment and impatience.

Dawn looked at him for a moment, making a decision. She glanced around at the bare
room of massive rock, her light reflecting slightly off the bare walls. There really wasn't
much there, everything long since stolen by grave robbers and thieves, or carted off to
the Museum by official thieves. Partly in jest, she replied, attempting to break Alex's
suddenly gloomy mood, "Could be quite a place to meditate."

It had not occurred to her Alex might agree with the idea. But then, after thinking over
the idea, he replied, "Why not? I could use some inspiration." Then, without further
fanfare, he returned to the center of the room, slung his backpack to one side, switched
off his light, and set down, lotus fashion. Without waiting for her, he closed his eyes and
began the process of trying to relax.

Mildly surprised, Dawn followed his lead, took off her backpack as well, and then set
down facing him -- a space of perhaps three feet separating them. Seeing his eyes
already closed, she switched off her light, carefully laid it beside her, and let herself grow
accustomed to the impenetrable darkness. She fought off the momentary panic of where
she was, and within moments was rewarded appropriately.

At first, in the midst of utter blackness, there were subtle traces of color in laser like
lines. Dawn mentally squinted, trying to see the colors better, but initially had no luck.
Then she remembered to state her intentions. Quietly, she said, mouthing the words, "I
welcome all input from the higher realms which is in my highest and wisest interest at
this time."

Almost immediately it hit her. Power! Sheer, staggeringly immense power -- raw in its
intensity and colored by emotion-laden wonder and ecstasy. Mental thoughts filled with
emotional content swirled in her mind. Streams of rainbow colors slashed through her
space, illuminating her visions. A sense of being within a multi-faceted blue azurite
crystal came over her, while her mind reeled with the sheer brilliance of colors.
Geometrical shapes appeared, ranging from spinning tetrahedrons and twisting DNA
helixes to shapes reminiscent of the more sophisticated crop circle formations which had
recently appeared. For a split second, Dawn even sensed herself playing in the crop
circle from her earlier dream. There were also flashing views of stars and constellations,
some of which momentarily reminded Dawn of Sirius, the Orion Constellation, and the
Southern Cross. Never had she felt such immediate, overpowering sensations in any
mediation. It was as if by making the decision to allow external powers access to her
psyche, they had rushed in where even used car salesmen might have feared to tread.

Her mind tried to sort the visualizations, the heart-thumping vibrations, the sense of
absolute mystery and wonder. But to no avail. It was as if the powers of the pyramid
had been denied such access for such a long time that to wait a moment longer was
inconceivable. Every possible product of meditation seemed to compete in their quests
to gain access to her consciousness. For several moments there was chaos.

Then, slowly, increasingly gaining the upper hand, an audible vibration began to make
itself known. It was a sound, a sound as if one's ears were plugged, but which had
nothing to do with hearing. It was a sound wholly within her mind, gaining in intensity
and decibels, but without ever sounding too harsh. Never uncomfortable. Rather a
sound she could choose to ignore or allow herself to bathe within. It was the universe's
base note, a deep, mellow "huuuu".

Dawn began shutting out every distraction other than the sound. As she did so, she felt
a oneness with the world, the pyramid, the man sitting before her. Then gently,
peacefully, Gil came into her mind. He smiled, and lifted a finger to touch her forehead.
Immense waves of unconditional, universal love cascaded down from her third eye and
filled her body. And then the vision of Gil was gone.

Dawn felt mesmerized, captivated, and yet, wholly within the moment. She felt her body
sitting in a mildly uncomfortable position upon hard rock, within a massive, cold
surrounding. And yet, at the same time, her whole being felt connected with the starry
night, the bright sunny day, and the hot wind blowing across the face of the pyramids.
All her senses responded to the wholly connected universe.

Abruptly she opened her eyes to see Alex, with his own light switched on, staring at her.
His expression -- which she could only barely make out -- was one of calm, patient
concern. As she felt herself return to the alleged reality of the three-dimensional space
and one-dimensional time continuum, she smiled.

He smiled also, commenting, "No inspiration, but one heluva of a trip!"

Dawn agreed, "Brief, but very intense."

Alex looked surprised. Then gently, he said, "Just under half an hour." When Dawn
looked at him unbelievingly, he added, "At least, according to the chronometer on my
wrist."

Suddenly Dawn laughed. Where she had been, time had been irrelevant. Everything
else had been more than real. 'So why?' she suddenly thought, 'Am I alone under the
greatest pyramid of the Western Hemisphere with this man?' The pyramid chose not to
answer. That would have taken the mystery and drama out of the situation, and no soul,
including Dawn's, would have wanted that.

As they stood up and left the inner sanctum, both were quiet, each lost in their
respective thoughts. The trip out was far more profound in many respects, as they each
now recognized the power of what had been their descent into the depths of the
pyramid. Dawn ran her hand along the rock and plastered walls, gently sensing the
powers that had influenced her. Slowly, they returned to the world of light and space,
blinking as they came into the light of the daylight sun.

As she looked up, Dawn realized that even in the depths of the pyramid, there had been
The Sun -- radiating, protecting from the cold, keeping her safe. For a moment, she
swallowed, dealing with a sense of rebirth and trusting openness. The casual suggestion
to meditate had become a transformation of some kind. Very intense. Even if in the
midst of massive rock and stone.

Alex, in something of a casual saunter, led Dawn to the front stairs of the pyramid. At
the base of them, he took note of the triple-stepped structure jutting out from between
the twin stairs of the lowest base section of the pyramid proper. There he quietly made
some measurements. When he was finished, he said with a tinge of frustration evident
in his voice, "Fifteen and a half degrees."

Dawn watched him for just a moment. "Why is that a problem?"

Alex shrugged. "Not necessarily a problem. It's just that fifteen and a half degrees
seems very important to the builders of Teotihuacan. The Avenue of the Dead makes a
fifteen and a half degree angle with true north, and this structure before the Pyramid of
the Sun juts out at the same angle -- and for no apparent reason. At the same time the
line connecting the tops of the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon makes a seventeen and a
half degree angle with the Avenue of the Dead. Thus the Pyramids are two degrees off
of a true north-south orientation. The whole thing just doesn't make a lot of sense."

"You would have preferred your measurements to be at seventeen and a half degrees?"

Alex laughed. "Or at nineteen and a half!" When Dawn looked surprised, he shrugged
his shoulders. "It's a hyper-geometrical thing. A circumscribed tetrahedron having one
vertex located at a pole will have the other vertices tracing a line of latitude at nineteen
and a half degrees."

Dawn was now perplexed. "What in the world are you talking about?"
Alex turned to her. "It has to do with a theory about energy influxes from other
dimensions intersecting our four-dimensional space-time frame of reference. I thought
there might be a connection between that theory and what the builders of Teotihuacan
might have known." Then he grimaced slightly and turned away from her. "Apparently,
there's no connection."

Dawn decided she wasn't going to understand anything Alex was saying, and remained
quiet. Then Alex, not quite defeated, turned back to Dawn. "Are you up to climbing a
pyramid?"

"Sure," she replied, with appropriate eagerness. "Any particular reason?"

"I'd like to see what lines up at 15 1/2 degrees. It might give us a clue as to where to
find The Mother."

Dawn suddenly remembered the prime reason for their being in Mexico was to locate this
woman, who might lead them to the Humanki. First things first, she reminded herself.
Then another thought entered her mind. Turning to Alex, she asked, "How about the
Pyramid of the Moon?"

Alex turned to her, surprised at the request. "Why that one?"

"It's at the head of the Avenue, not along the side. Besides, the Moon is usually gentler."

Alex laughed. "Sure. Why not? We'll do the Pyramid of the Moon."



As they trekked the remaining extent of the Avenue of the Dead, Alex began to talk
about other things. "Remember the Olmecs, the probable builders of these pyramids?"
When Dawn shook her head, he added, "It seems they just up and vanished one day --
about 200 B.C. or thereabouts. There was another group of ancient peoples, the Toltecs,
who did the same thing. After taking over from the original builders of Teotihuacan and
living there for nearly a thousand years, they too packed up and left -- this time around
700 A.D. History is replete with vanished peoples like that... from the Lost Tribes of
Israel, to the Mayans, to whomever. It's a strange phenomenon in the history of the
world."

Dawn smiled knowingly. "But you have a theory, right?"

Alex grinned sheepishly. "Oh yeah. I always have a theory."

"And your theory is...?"

As they continued to walk side by side, Alex turned to look at her, while she maintained a
sidelong glance at him. Then he asked, "Ever read the book, Mutant Message from
Down Under?"

"No," she replied, keeping her eye on him.

"It's about the Australian Aborigines. One aspect of the book is that as a race the
Aborigines are getting ready to leave the planet." When Dawn's eyebrows rose, Alex
continued blithely on. "It's like they're about to ascend. They're a very spiritual people,
very familiar with the dream state, and seem quite capable of simply leaving this
incarnation and taking their bodies with them."
"Interesting theory," Dawn replied. Then her intuition led her to ask, "And you think
these ancient peoples did the same thing?"

"Not in all cases," Alex answered. "Maybe not in most. I'm sure many tribes or peoples
were simply overrun and wiped out. But there are several, particularly in the Western
hemisphere, who seem to have just walked out of their great cities and vanished without
a trace. The Anasazi from Pueblo Bonito in New Mexico, for example. What other native
American Indians like the Hopi called "the ancient ones". They just up and split." When
Dawn remained silent, still listening, he continued. "Imagine if you will that a whole
people, comparatively isolated from those around them, develop a sufficiently spiritual
base that as a people they could ascend. Leave the planet, leave everything behind.
Wouldn't that be amazing?"

"Incredible," Dawn replied -- in one word expressing her feelings completely. Alex heard
her very clearly, but only smiled.

The conversation gently waned as the climb up the Pyramid of the Moon left both of them
slightly breathless. They exchanged a fair number of smiles, grins, and grimaces, as
they periodically rested on the steep, high steps. But they said very little. It was rather
a thing to be experienced, and shared on a non-verbal basis.

Near the top, a young couple, with considerably more energy and stamina, passed them.
The youngsters held hands as they climbed the final steps, and then embraced at the
top, side-to-side. They might easily have worn T-shirts saying they were recently
married. But they didn't, allowing their actions to say the same thing.

The sight of two people very much in love caused a surge in Dawn's emotions. The idea
of herself having a similar, spontaneous and loving relationship seemed like a very good
idea. The time of grieving since the loss of her husband and children now seemed
sufficient. She had reached the milestone along her path whereby she could now relate
to a man on a completely intimate level. Strangely, she felt as if she had something in
common with Sisi -- just having reached the point of being declared whole and well and
ready for the future.

As the young couple moved off to do their own thing, Dawn felt intently the sense of
being alone. Then she looked around at the view and suddenly felt exhilarated instead.
It was magnificent, particularly as one looked back down the Avenue of the Dead.

"You were right," Alex confirmed, taking it all in himself. "This was the pyramid to
climb!" Then he moved off to the right and began exploring the upper portions of the
temple ruins at the top. At the same time, he kept looking off in the direction of the
Pyramid of the Sun. He then pulled out a pair of binoculars from his pack and began
scanning in the direction of the Sun pyramid. For several moments he looked. Then he
relented, his frustration just barely visible. Shaking his head, he went back into his
backpack and began pulling out some sandwiches -- direct from the hotel -- for their
lunch.

Dawn was pleased to see the food and sat down beside him to eat. She asked, "What
are you trying to see? I noticed you were looking mostly in the direction of the Pyramid
of the Sun."

Alex frowned. "I keep thinking the orientation of the two pyramids lines up or in some
way gives us a bead on where to go next. But the smog is so bad, I can hardly see more
than a dozen miles or so. And yet I'm sure there is something out there that will tell us
what we need to know."

"So what do we do now?" Dawn was feeling Alex's frustration.

"Our only other lead, but one in which I have little faith, is to check out Monte Alban."

"Where's that?"

"It's quite a ways, down near the town of Oaxaca, about 250 miles southeast of here."
When Dawn said nothing, he added. "Teotihuacan and Monte Alban have some
interesting connections. One of them is that the two locations really stand out on the
horizon and a line connecting them lies at a thirty-five and half degree angle from the
equator, which for various esoteric reasons, we believe to be important."

"You're really into this geometry thing," Dawn commented, without judgement.

"The ancients were really into geometry. It was part of their spirituality." With that, he
fell silent, thinking to quietly deal with his frustration and decide what to do next.

Dawn said nothing, as Alex went off into his own thoughts. Midway though her
sandwich, however, she had an idea. Alex had lain down on the bare stone at the top of
the pyramid and closed his eyes, still searching for inspiration. Dawn pulled the map she
had just bought out of her backpack. Looking at an insert of Mexico City and the Valley
of Mexico, with Teotihuacan at the top, she began to study it. Seeing Alex's protractor
and geometry tools laying beside his pack, she took them and began to draw lines on the
map. Suddenly, she realized something. Two of the lines passed through two points to
the south which could not possibly be coincident. Then she noticed something else.

"Alex," she said, her voice sounding excited, "Look at this."

The tone of her voice would have raised Alex from the dead. He sat up, expectantly, and
turned to the map in her hands. Calmly, her heart beating stronger, she began
explaining her idea.

"If you take the angle of fifteen and a half degrees to the east of the line between the
two pyramids, and draw it on the map, the line goes directly though this mountain,
Volcano Popocatepetl. Then if you draw a line fifteen and a half degrees from the line
from Teotihuacan to Monte Alban, the line goes directly through another mountain,
Volcano Iztaccihuatl."

Alex barely breathed, as he said, "Smoking Mountain and the White Lady!"

"Yes. It says something about that on the map. What does it mean?"

"According to Aztec myths," Alex replied, "Popo and the White Lady were great lovers.
But one day the White Lady went up to the top of her mountain and there fell asleep.
The mountain itself, from Mexico City, looks like a sleeping woman. The myth then says
Popo went up to awaken her but found she was under some kind of magic spell. Popo
then went to the adjacent volcano, where he still waits for her to awaken. He maintains
guard, but the locals delight in noting that when the volcano emits smoke, it's just Popo
getting steamed from having been waiting so long."

"Cute," Dawn said. "But why would these volcanoes be important to anyone?"

"Because they're volcanoes!" Alex replied, enthusiastically. "The prime source of the
ORME elements! The mono-atomic rhodium and iridium are from the deep earth! It's
the earth's own foundry for producing these elements. And where else would you find
the earth bringing up its innards, but at a volcano!
"Remember Mount Saint Helena? When she erupted, downwind of her they had some of
the most fertile soils in decades. It was as if the ash of the mono-atomic elements,
among other things, was providing the energy source to generate the best crops in
years. Volcanoes are the source!" Alex's face showed his excitement. Abruptly, he
became serious. "If someone were interested in a primary source for these elements,
they would naturally want to hang around this kind of locale! This may be where the
Humanki are hanging out, or where, at the very least, The Mother is! This is great!"

Dawn looked at Alex from an angle. Quietly, she asked, "The Mother is the White Lady?"

Alex was slightly sobered. "You have to go back a ways. According to Aztec myth, there
was an 'Age of the White Haired Giants'. The 'White Lady' is just a continuation of that
tradition. She may even be the original. But she's the one who counts! And where
better to be located than on the slopes of her mountain!" Alex's smile went astray as the
thoughts running rampant in his mind took off in all directions.

Dawn was pleased at Alex's enthusiasm, and felt emboldened to add one more item. "I
noticed something else." When Alex turned expectantly, having recently become a
believer in Dawn's revelations, she said, "I happened to notice Teotihuacan is located at
19 degrees and forty minutes north of the equator, while the volcanoes are between 19
and 19 and a quarter degrees latitude. Maybe this ties in with your theory -- the one I
don't understand -- about a hyper-dimensional thing at nineteen and a half degrees."

Alex stared at her for several minutes. Then he looked at the map. Quietly, but with an
earnest tone, he said, "You're a genius." Dawn glowed, until Alex explained. (Dawn
wasn't eager for an explanation -- such things seldom adding to and often detracting
from the initial compliment. But she held her tongue. She had been called a genius.
That would have to do.)

"The volcano on the island of Hawaii is at nineteen and a half degrees from the equator,
as is by far the largest volcano on Mars, Olympus Mons. Nineteen and a half degrees is
also where the red spots of Jupiter and Neptune are located. This suggests a window
between dimensions and the place where energy may be coming into our space and time
in large quantities!" Then he became even more excited. "God, I love this! The way
everything all falls together! Who would have thought hyper-geometry would correlate
with ancient pyramids, mono-atomic elements, and volcanoes! It's incredible!!"

He turned to Dawn, his eyes filled with excitement. "We're going to make a great team!"

Dawn was more than delighted by Alex's enthusiasm, not to mention his hands on her
shoulders as if preparatory to giving her a big kiss. She was excited and supercharged
herself. But before she could verbalize her emotions, or Alex kiss her, he asked eagerly,
"So. Ready to climb a volcano?" When Dawn didn't immediately reply, Alex added, "The
White Lady! She's on her mountain. Iztaccihuatl."

Dawn was astounded. "She's living at the top of a volcano?"

Alex suddenly felt his spirits take a heavy dose of reality. He looked again at her map.
Then he smiled. "Tlamacas! It's a village on the side of Popo. Even on the line between
the volcano and Teotihuacan. That's where we're going. There's even a road to it."
Then he hesitated. "Or what looks like a road. Probably a winding set of approximately-
parallel tracks." Alex smiled bleakly.



After a brief few moments of once again taking in the view from the top of the Pyramid of
the Moon -- an activity on which Dawn had insisted -- they began to make their way
down the steep steps. Interestingly enough, going down was actually somewhat more
tiring than going up. The ascent left one breathless, but there had at least been a
certain momentum in their favor. Going down was an infinite series of step down and
stop one's entire momentum on each step. Soon their calves were feeling the strain of
constantly dropping one's entire body weight, including backpacks, onto one's lower legs
at each level. Fortunately, they had the length of the Avenue of the Dead to work out
the consequent kinks in their calves. The latter also afforded them a chance to talk
between themselves. It was Dawn who began it.

"Gil once mentioned that there was a lot of UFO activity around the volcanoes of Mexico."

Alex laughed. "Either that or there's a lot of secret governmental activity and the UFO
stories are just a cover up." Then he smiled glumly. "Or maybe they're genuine UFOs."

Dawn laughed. "So in addition to the AMA and the PMC, we have to worry about UFOs."

Alex kept his eyes straight ahead, his pace slowly quickening. "Don't forget about the
CIA, FBI, KGB, and as a last resort to make our lives miserable, the IRS!"

Dawn was surprised and looked at him. "The government?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "Every government with gold reserves intact, along with Russia,
one of the leading gold mining nations, and South Africa all have some very heavy,
vested interests in the current scarcity of precious elements. The South Africans are
capable of being as tough as the Russians, even in the midst of the elimination of
Apartheid. Nobody is going to like us. It's the old adage: 'Ye shall know the truth and
the truth shall set ye free. But first, the truth is really going to piss you off!' We may
ultimately being doing everyone a favor, but first we have to deal with their anger and
fear."

Dawn thought about it for a moment. "If the Patrons were to come after me, I was
rather assuming you would throw yourself into the path of the bullet in order to save
me. But now there's the possibility that the people after us might be the PMC, and then
I'd be the one throwing myself in front of the bullet in order to save you."

"That's okay," Alex said, nonchalantly. "I can deal with that."

"But how will we know who's doing the shooting? I wouldn't want to throw myself in
front of you if it's me they're after!" Dawn looked at Alex, a facade of genuine concern
on her face.

Alex laughed. "Well, don't worry about it. They'll probably never find us."

"But aren't we going into their territory? Aren't we entering their den, so to speak?"

Alex sobered slightly. "There is a lot happening around the volcanoes. But I'm not
worried about the Consortium of Three Letter Acronym organizations being after us.
Even the UFOlks, I can probably handle. I would even be willing to take on the members
of the Humanki! Whoever they are. No, my main concern would be good old Mother
Nature." Alex smiled gamely.

Dawn was less comforted. "What are you talking about?"

"The volcanoes could go off while we're there."

Dawn thought for several minutes. Then she shook her head, asking, "There's no real
chance of a volcanic eruption anytime soon... Is there?" Her question sounded
particularly bleak.

Alex shrugged his shoulders. "Quite possible. There's a lot of evidence the volcanoes
are due to blow their tops any time now. Certainly within the next five to ten years."

"You're kidding?" Then she decided he wasn't. "But wouldn't the Mexican government
be doing something about it? Warning people, for example!"

"What can they do? Announce the near-term possibility and then try to deal with the
panic? First of all, there's no guarantee of when. And secondly, what would you do with
the twenty million people of Mexico City suddenly made homeless? Have them
homestead in other parts of Mexico? That's not even a remote possibility. There just
aren’t any good solutions."

"And in the meantime...?"

"The rich and powerful have undoubtedly decided that money and power will buy them a
quick escape if and when it becomes necessary. They also figure they will be
forewarned. The rest go in for simple denial." Alex smiled suddenly, as a thought struck
him. "Maybe there's an Egyptian connection here," he sandbagged. When Dawn only
looked at him, he added, "They're all playing the part of Cleopatra, 'De Queen of De
Nile'."

Dawn gave him her best pun-dissipating frown.



Roger took the scenic route, bypassing the bulk of Mexico City, and passing through such
notable cities as Texcoco, San Vicente Chicoloapan de Juarez (with one of the longer
roadway signs), Chalco, Tlalmanaico, and Amecameca. Of course, before leaving the
pyramids, there had to be the time-honored traditional bargaining about the price of the
taxi for ferrying the couple all the way to Tlamacas and Volcano Popocatepetl.

Among other things, there was the prospect of checking out an unruly volcano, up close
and personal. For another, Tlamacas was roughly twice as far from downtown Mexico
City as was Teotihuacan (Roger claimed it was five times as far). Finally, the roads
carried considerably less traffic, and as a result were in poorer shape, particularly along
the route from Amecameca up the mountain to Tlamacas. The latter was the route taken
by that specialized branch of American tourists who had nothing better to do with their
time than climb moderately active volcanoes. This group didn't expect good roads, and
the Mexican government obliged them by keeping the road to Tlamacas challenging.

Alex ended up paying more than he should, but also with Roger insisting on most of the
money up front -- if for no other reason than he would have to buy gas. Meanwhile,
Dawn declined Alex's suggestion of having the taxi drop her off at the hotel and Alex
proceed to the volcano alone. Dawn was loath to split up with Alex, even for a brief
moment. Things were far too unsettled to take the chance. And as she thought about it,
facing the volcano didn't seem that tough. This was perhaps because the threat of an
eruption was difficult to imagine, whereas being alone wasn't hard to imagine at all.

The three years, for example, between the time her husband and two children had been
killed in the auto accident, had ensured that lonely was something Dawn knew all about
-- along with stunning shock, immense grief, and a sense of being totally alone in an
alien and uncaring world. That king of lonely was something Dawn did not want to re-
experience.
 

At approximately the same moment that Dawn and Alex were passing through
Amecameca, Anna arrived at the Mexico City airport. She was alone, but was quickly
met by a local semi-official, a man known for his ability to facilitate all manner of
endeavors, legal and otherwise. He was accompanied by four men, all of whom looked
mean enough that authorities -- such as customs officials -- would never have even
considered opening their luggage. Mexican custom officials, for example, have a
profound respect for the criminal class -- particularly those favored with official law
enforcement facades. Too many had already learned the hard way that it does
sometimes hurt to ask.

Anna's facilitator was all gallantry, as Anna instructed him to take two men and stake out
the hotel Oberoi Continental. Anna and the other two would then take the four-wheel
drive vehicle and head southeast toward Tlamacas. It was a straight forward and simple
plan.

______________________________________

[1] Immanuel Velikovsky, Worlds in Collision, 1950, Ages in Chaos, 1952, Earth in
Upheaval, 1955, and Peoples of the Sea, 1977, all published by Doubleday and Company,
New York.
Judgement

Chapter Fourteen

The road to Tlamacas was every thing for which one could have hoped -- assuming, of
course, that one was into the rough and tumble of the gusto-laden adventure routes.
There was just enough broken pavement to ensure the road would be rough even in
places where it normally would have been merely dusty, curves and deceptive twists as
the road meandered ever higher into the mountain's slopes, and grades which continued
to put Roger's taxi to its severest test. The idea of getting out and pushing crossed the
minds of Dawn and Alex more than once. Thoughtfully, they never verbalized their
concern -- lest the verbalization result in its manifestation. But their eyes carried the
thought between them just as effectively.

Tlamacas, itself, was a strange blend of a dirt-poor Mexican village off the beaten path
and a tourist haven. Unfortunately for the town fathers, the tourist aspects were
primarily those of a jumping off spot for American climbers -- a specialized breed of
NorteAmericanos who were not known as being prolific spenders. Thus the main Cantina
catered primarily to the dying-of-thirst crowd (and ignored the sophisticated big spenders
who preferred to watch locals dive from cliffs into the ocean). The Cantina had over the
years developed an atmosphere of dusty floors, hot sun, smoky air (most of which came
from the volcano's occasional emissions), and tequila-inspired decor. The place could
easily have been a movie set for The Good, The Bad, The Ugly, and The Totally
Indifferent.

Dawn and Roger sat at the best table in the house, one outside in the sidewalk cafe
tradition with just enough shade and something resembling a cool breeze. Meanwhile
Alex forged off alone to inquire about any "White Lady" residing in the vicinity. Dawn
would have gone with him, but the road to Tlamacas had taken its toll, and she was
experiencing her first hints of motion sickness. She was even able to appreciate, for the
moment, the Cantina and its hospitality -- albeit its primary appeal being that it was not
bouncing, jerking, and/or careening occasionally toward an abyss of crumbling earth and
ragged brush.

As she began to feel better and her stomach decided it was not slated for emergency
downloadings, she became aware of the subtle sexual glances and suggestive smiles
from Roger. It had initially seemed a good idea for her to have Roger sit with her -- a
single woman alone in a Mexican Cantina might be generally misconstrued as to her
intentions or type of employment. But Dawn was now beginning to wonder about her
plan to discourage any Mexican, would-be gigolos. Fortunately, Alex encountered quick
success, and soon returned, walking briskly and confidently.

"There's a house, one described as a 'fine and ancient estate' further up the mountain,"
Alex reported, the moment he approached Dawn's table. "It's supposedly off-limits to
visitors, but I figure we have to try it. Are you game?"
Dawn smiled in total agreement. "You bet I am!" 'Anything,' she thought, 'would be
better than waiting with Roger at the local pretense of a watering hole!' Then she asked,
"How far?"

"Within walking distance," Alex replied. "In fact, it's probably better we not use the car.
I don't want to make a big deal of our arrival. Just sort of drop in unexpectedly, as if we
didn't know any better. Driving up there would make it look too obvious that the place
was our specific destination."

"Good thinking," Dawn replied.

After a quick negotiation with Roger, it was decided he would wait at the Cantina for
them (for a mere few pesos in addition to the dollars already paid), while Dawn and Alex
made the trek to the "White Lady's Casa". Then as they set off, Alex asked, "You want to
leave your backpack in the taxi? I'm going to leave mine," he added, in a spur-of-the-
moment attempt at low level chivalry.

Dawn didn't even hesitate. "No thanks. I'll keep it."

Alex accepted her decision with a shrug, turned and started walking.



The route to the house was longer than advertised by Alex's village informant. It led
through the town, and then out into a rugged, unpopulated area. The trail was
reasonably well traveled, until Alex caught a glimpse of a white hacienda just across a
small rise. The two then left the trail and made their way cross country in the direction
of the house.

Climbing up a steep slope, Dawn managed to trip on a rock and fall against another with
her hand. Both rocks, now dislodged from their precarious lodgings, promptly began
rolling down the hill. The movement caught on with numerous other rocks and a few
tons of gravel, and a small landslide was soon in progress. The rocks, gravel, dust and
debris went cascading down and quickly showered the trail below them. No one was
hurt, but there was a lot of dust.

Alex looked back at Dawn and asked, "You okay?"

Sheepishly, she answered, "I'm okay." Then she began climbing again to where Alex
waited.

Deciding she was indeed alright, Alex looked down at the remnants of the landslide. For a
moment it occurred to him that creating an avalanche was harder than one might
imagine. It took just the right combination of rocks and gravel, and ordinarily a simple
knocking of one or two rocks down a hill did not result in the kind of conflagration he had
just witnessed. For a moment, he shuddered. There was something about Dawn's
clumsiness that mystified him: Some lack of control or rationality about it, or some
reason for it that totally escaped the best efforts of his imagination. 'Phenomenal!' he
thought.

But it was time to move on. Alex turned back to the task at hand. Slowly, the two
potential intruders continued their way in the direction of the White Lady's villa. Then,
on a small rise, giving them their best view of the homestead, they stopped. For several
moments, they simply observed the white walled and red tiled, multi-building structure.
It did indeed carry the hint of antiquity about it. The white, red and occasional green
colors were modern (possibly a result of good maintenance), but the shapes were out of
sync with the standard Spanish-derived building style. The overall effect for the
architecturally sophisticated was a foreign and distinct character -- not something
identifiable, but rather intriguing enough to be copied for a later, innovative design by an
architect not loath to avoiding plagiarizism. The entire area was walled in fairly typical
fashion, but at least two gates stood open and inviting, each with a shape and style more
Egyptian than Spanish. And despite some flourishing greenery, there was no sign of
anyone actively caring for the place, guarding it, or even enjoying its pleasant
atmosphere.

Alex was studying the layout, plotting in his mind for ways to justify their entrance into
the grounds when the earth began to shake under his feet. He first noticed the effect as
small rocks, followed by larger ones, began rumbling down the slopes. A low roar,
accompanied by a distant thundering began to add to the shaking ground. Abruptly, he
turned to look at Dawn, mystified.

"It's not me," Dawn replied. She too, had dropped down to hang onto the ground. Then
she pointed to something over Alex's shoulder. "The volcano," she said, her voice bleak
and worried.

Sure enough, smoke and ash, in quantities far above normal, were spewing out of
Popocatepetl. The sight was an ominous one, even as the ground ceased its shaking,
and the rocks and gravel began to find new homes -- even if temporary ones. Alex
looked at the smoke and the threat of red-hot hail falling from the direction of the
volcano's peak. Then he glanced at the hacienda. He made a quick decision.

Leaping up and grabbing Dawn's hand, he said, "Come on! Any port in a storm! They
can hardly turn us away now!" With that the two ran down the weed covered and brush
infested slope toward the nearer of the hacienda's two open gates. The buildings took on
a new complexion as they promised to provide a roof over the heads of unwary tourists
against the imminent fall of debris from the volcano. There was also the promise of an
enclosure from the smoke and gas, as well as a legitimate excuse for entry into the villa
of the White Lady. It was opportunity knocking. Or more accurately, perhaps, it was
opportunity rumbling.

As they ran, one ragged, almost thorny bush, managed to grab a piece of Dawn's pants.
Not enough to tear them, but sufficient to cause her to turn abruptly as she tried to avoid
the tear. Her movement caught Alex by surprise, his hand in hers suddenly finding
heavy resistance. This threw him off balance, and he went down into the twin of the
ragged bush. Never letting go of Dawn's hand, he took her down as well, with her
landing on top of him. Their combined weight pretty well flattened the bush, but not
before it took a slash against Alex's shirt, nicely ripping it. Ironically, Dawn had
managed to escape trashing her outfit.

The mind moves at great speed during moments like this. Alex recognized instantly that:
1) the responsibility for this mishap might be shared in this case, 2) the logical extension
of that point was the possibility that Alex was becoming more clumsy, 3) this in turn
implyied maladroitness might be contagious, and 4) none of the first three steps of logic
really mattered at the moment inasmuch as the ground was still growling and the
volcano threatening to cover them with ash and red hot cinders. His mind, therefore,
ordered him to keep moving! Dawn had gone through a similar logical analysis, but
concluded more quickly that they needed to get under shelter as soon as possible.

After a two second pause, the two were up again and running again. Alex had been right
about gaining entrance in extremis. As they ran the last few yards to the nearest gate,
an old man appeared just inside the enclosure. Without a word he gestured for them to
run toward him. They did, and as they came through the gate, he opened a door in one
of the smaller buildings. Gesturing them in, he stood to one side. Without hesitation,
they ran inside. The old man followed them in and closed the door. For a moment, Alex
and Dawn caught their breath, preparatory to thanking the man for his hospitality.

Before they had the chance the old man offered, "Mi casa es su casa." It was the
traditional greeting of Spanish hospitality: “My house is your house”.

"Mucho Gracias," Alex quickly replied.

The old man quickly sized them up. "Norte Americanos?"

"Si," Alex answered. Then he added, "Yes, we are."

"You have come a long way just to witness Popocatepetl's venting of his frustration."

Alex made no comment on the old man's obviously excellent command of the English
language. Rather he said, "Our timing does seem somewhat inopportune."

"Perhaps," the old man replied. One could get the feeling the old man did not entirely
believe Alex. Then the villa's resident looked at Dawn. "Can I get you anything,
Senorita?"

"No, thank you," Dawn replied. She looked at the old man for several seconds, seeing a
vibrant, weathered old man -- someone who carried a sense of antiquity along with
profound wisdom. He wore the trappings of a commoner, but somehow exuded the
personality of an aristocrat. His dark, wrinkled face and pure white hair spoke of age,
but his eyes were far too brilliant and alive to be old. In fact, his eyes were penetrating
and deep beyond words.

Dawn reached out with her mind to sense him, only to find such depth that there was
nothing which she could grasp or identify. He might have been allowing her inside his
mind, but the territory was so alien she could gain no advantage, as if she were falling
into a deep, dark void, from which there was no handhold to stabilize the intruder. At
the same time, there was the hint he could see into her mind as well. And he seemed
much more familiar with the territory.

At a decided disadvantage, Dawn dropped her probing, glanced away from the old man's
eyes, and began to take stock of the room where they had sought refuge. It was a well-
appointed kitchen, large enough to provide all the necessities of an aristocratic ball or
large wedding reception -- a working kitchen with everything temporarily neatly stowed
in its proper place.

The old man watched Dawn for several moments, before saying, "We will be quite safe
here. The ash and smoke will only lay a gentle frost upon the valley. A welcome
covering."

"Thank you for allowing us to take refuge here," Alex interjected. "We were on the
mountain hiking, when..."

The old man turned to Alex, and with a mental wave of dismissal, said, "But you are not
climbers. You don't carry the necessities. A single, small backpack," he continued,
taking note of Dawn's purse and backpack, "would be insufficient, even foolhardy."

Alex was about to fabricate something else, when Dawn took the lead. In a split second,
she had felt an overpowering sense of increased awareness, and simultaneously, a
release from fear. Her receptivity heightened and balanced, she made a quick
Judgement, one which took Alex and the old man quite by surprise. "We came to this
house," she said confidently, "hoping to gain entrance. We're looking for someone."

Both of the men looked at Dawn: Alex in something of a state of shock, and the old man
merely studying her. "And for whom," he asked, "are you looking?"

"The White Lady," Dawn replied simply, her eyes meeting the old man's at several levels
simultaneously.

"Surprising," the old man answered. "Most look for Quetzalcoatl, the feathered serpent,
as if he had finally returned." He smiled. "I always send them to Tepoztlan, to search
for him there."

Alex, taking advantage of the moment, asked, "Is Quetzalcoatl here?"

Without looking at Alex, the old man replied, his voice cooler, "He has returned to the
home of his birth." Then with more interest, he asked, "And who is looking for the White
Lady?"

"My name is Dawn Riordan," she answered. "And this is my companion, Alexander
Dukas."

"Noble names," the old man replied. "I am called Nanau." For just a moment, he bowed
slightly and lowered his eyes. Straightening back up, he added, "I am the caretaker
here."

Alex, deciding Dawn's initiative should be followed, asked point blank, "Is the Lady
here?"

Nanau ignored him, concentrating on Dawn. When he only smiled at her, she asked,
"Isn't it a little dangerous to be here right now? The volcano seems..." Her voice trailed
off.

"I will remain," Nanau replied, "until the end times of this era. Perhaps a few more
years yet." Then he looked at her with more intensity. "If you believe it dangerous, why
are you here?"

"It's important," Dawn replied, "to find the White Lady." When the old man remained
silent, she added, "We need her help." Dawn had not previously thought they were
seeking help from the Lady, but the moment seemed to tell her this was precisely why
they were searching for her.

The old man looked into Dawn's eyes for several moments. Then he smiled, and turned
to Alex. He became more serious as he studied the thoughts of the woman's
companion. But then the smile returned again, even if not quite with the same intensity
as before. Quietly, but with great authority, he broke the momentary silence, aiming his
words directly at Dawn. "The Lady has returned to her home on the underside of the
world. She now resides at the last bastion within the Realm of the Storm God. You will
find her near the Temple of the Three Windows."

Dawn kept her eyes on the old man, not understanding his meaning. At the same time,
however, she could feel Alex's suddenly mounting enthusiasm, as if he had understood
the meaning or at least was rapidly deciphering the cryptic message. She could sense
his mind making all the right connections, finding the pieces of the puzzle falling
together, and deciding their mission to Mexico had been as completely successful as he
could have hoped. Confident in her assessment of Alex's response, she smiled at the old
man. "You've been most gracious," she began. "Is there anything we can do to thank
you? Perhaps carry a message for you to the Lady."

Nanau smiled, his white teeth breaking though for the first time. "You may tell her: 'The
frying pan is once again becoming quite warm.'" Then he laughed, his eyes displaying
his delight at his own humor -- as if it had been a long time between delights.



After almost an hour at the hacienda, enjoying the kitchen hospitality of Nanau, Alex and
Dawn set out once again. The old man assured them Popocatepetl was satiated for the
moment, and he knew they would be in a hurry to be on their way. He did, however,
add in a cryptic fashion as they left, "There should be much entertainment for you in the
next hours." He then declined to say anything further.

The sun was just beginning to set when they arrived back in the environs of the Cantina.
Alex was almost bubbling over with excitement on the short hike back into town,
rambling on about the Realm of the Storm God being in Peru, and the Temple of the
Three Windows at Machu Picchu. He could hardly wait to get to the airport -- after a
quick stop, of course, to pick up their luggage at the hotel.

It was then Nanau's predicted adventure began. It seemed Roger Jimenez had pursued
the better part of valor and left town at the first moment of Popocatepetl's outburst. He
had also neglected to pay his small tab at the Cantina, taking advantage of the
momentary confusion of the small earthquake.

Using a local form of financial logic, the Cantina proprietor concluded that as Roger's
employer, Alex could be expected to pay the tab. Alex was angered enough to find there
was no driver, and was not about to pay for the deserter's beer tab. Dawn, on the other
hand, taking the slightly longer view, agreed to pay. As the proprietor smiled, she then
cashed in her credits with him, and asked if there was another vehicle to take them into
Mexico City. The man was all apologetic -- noting that few if any of the locals even
spoke English, let along had access to a vehicle. He did, however, with the cooperation
of several patrons, manage to come up with an alternative scheme: Hitch a ride with the
'loco Norte Americanos.'

Just south of Tlamacas, it seemed, was a small group of perhaps a half-dozen people
from the United States, who were doing some crazy things and for some unexplainable
reasons. Alex and Dawn's only real option was to go to these people and perhaps find a
ride back to the city. It wasn't clear why the Norte Americanos were loco, but they were,
apparently, well equipped nuts. The only flaw was their camp was an hour's walk along a
little used dirt road and the sun was going down.

Alex and Dawn, deciding this was part of the adventure prophesied by Nanau, took the
need for flexibility in stride, and started out. The hike was pleasant enough, particularly
once the sun had set and twilight had rendered the surrounding area quite beautiful. The
only negativity was Alex bemoaning the fact that having paid most of the money up front
for the taxi, he had consequently not provided a major incentive for Roger to have
stayed and waited for them. Dawn, however, quickly put an end to the drama, insisting
Alex let it go, and concentrate instead on their progress in finding the White Lady.

This worked for a while. Until it started to get dark, and there was no sign of Norte
Americanos, loco or otherwise. The breeze began to take on a cool edge, the kind you
easily find at the higher elevations around Mexico City (itself some seven thousand feet
above sea level). It was then Dawn stopped.
When Alex paused as well to see what was wrong, she held up her hand. For a moment,
neither said anything. Then Dawn smiled, and opened her eyes. She turned, and looked
back down the road, in the direction of Tlamacas. Within seconds, both of them caught
the first glimpse of headlights, bouncing along the road. It wasn't exactly the Seventh
Calvary, but it was a Ford Explorer, equipped and driven by a very hospitable lady from
Sedona, Arizona. Her name was Shari, and better yet, she knew Koco -- at least, by
reputation. Shari lived in what was, apparently, a better part of Sedona than Koco.

Hitching a ride, Dawn and Alex quickly became a confidante of Shari, and learned all they
could have hoped to learn about her. As the Executive Assistant Director of the Sedona
ExtraTerrestrial and Alien Research Center, Shari was in the environs of Mexico City hot
on the trail of extraterrestrials, which, based on a lucid dream she had had while still in
Sedona, Shari had been expecting to meet face-to- face.

"I had even dreamed," she elucidated, "of a particular star formation in the sky which
would identify the mountain's location. Then, when we arrived here, I saw the star
formation in the sky and knew we were in the right place! I knew then, it was just a
matter of time! I was so excited!"

Alex didn't mention to Dawn, assuming she probably already knew, that star formations
really don't vary a lot from location to location, and especially from Sedona, Arizona to
Mexico City. He also decided it wasn't his place to pop Shari's balloon. Which was in the
process even now of being filled even further.

"Two nights ago, about two in the morning, I was walking through the brush toward
Popo, with Doctor Framanud just behind me, when we both saw a strobing light roll down
from the mountain peak. That's when I got this distinct feeling, all up and down my
body, that someone wanted me to go further into the bushes." Alex suddenly grinned,
but Shari seemed unaware of it. "It was then I felt the nearby presence of an ET craft
and its beings. The telepathic message I was receiving was from two or three beings
who were located very close to me. They were very small in stature and very shy. Dr.
Framanud was still behind me and he got the same message. I also received the
message to get rid of my camera, my hat, and my glasses. All of these items were in
some way interfering with communication."

Dawn felt Alex's reaction: something to the effect of: 'Okay, so now you can't see and
you can't take pictures!' Instinctively, she sent her own signal of: 'Keep it to yourself!'
It wasn't clear she had the ability to send such a message or for Alex to receive it. But in
any case, he said nothing.

"Once I got rid of these interferences, golden shafts of light came down the mountain,
across the bush. One beam actually entered my torso, producing a very pleasant
sensation. Then, an egg shaped object in a kind of 'blue fog' appeared. Inside it was a
tall, slender, beautiful being, who was bald on top but who had long, silver-gray hair on
the sides of his head." For a moment she seemed apologetic. "It was hard to see clearly
though the fog..." (Whereupon Alex coughed slightly.)

"But we could still communicate telepathically. I told the being I wanted it to become
more physical, but the ET couldn't do that for fear of frightening some of the members of
our team. I can't remember any more of the session, but the other team members said
Dr. Framanud and I stood there like statues for more than two hours." Shari laughed.
"To me, it seemed more like ten minutes or so!"

"That's fascinating," Dawn replied, with something resembling sincerity.

Alex's response was less definitive. "Incredible!"

Shari laughed, delighted at their responses. "The second night," she eagerly charged
forth, "was equally phenomenal." When neither of the hitchhikers seemed ready to bail
out of their only chance at a ride back in the night’s first darkness, Shari added, "A
strobing globe of light surrounded by a cloud appeared on a nearby mountain cliff. Our
team signaled the globe with our own halogen light and suddenly, a gigantic light
returned our signal. That's when we sent the local drivers away to avoid any discomfort
on their part. I don't think they were ready for this sort of thing."

"I can imagine," Alex interjected, with considerably more sincerity than before.

Shari continued, undaunted. "For almost two hours, the huge ET light mimicked our
halogen signals as well as initiating signals of its own. Then it changed location and split
into two lights. One of the two lights changed from the color of a candle flame to brilliant
red and dimmed somewhat. It was then we rejoined our drivers and began the drive
back to our base camp. Amazingly, the ET lights continued to remain visible during our
entire drive. Back at the camp, we climbed up to the top of the bluff above where the
tents were, and then noticed something extraordinary: The two brilliant lights were part
of a huge, dome-shaped object that appeared to be one to two city blocks in length!"

It immediately struck Alex that perhaps what had been seen was one to two city blocks.
But the Explorer's driver was oblivious to his silent sarcasm.

Smiling her broadest smile, she said, "Now you know why we're out here!" With that she
pulled off the road and quickly parked along a narrow trail leading off to the left and
angling up the mountainside. Twenty feet from their parked vehicle were six tents and
as many people, all busy going about the process of cleaning up after a meal and
preparing for what the night might bring. Shari led her two new devotees over to greet
the others.

The redoubtable Dr. Framanud was absent, having gone further along the trail with one
of the other female team members to take up what he assumed was a good position for
the evening. Shari was miffed at his forging out with someone other than the Executive
Assistant Director, but then within minutes, was apparently compensated by two lights
moving erratically along the ground in the direction from whence they had just come.

The two lights maintained a consistent distance between them and flickered almost like a
strobe light -- only in a more irregular fashion. Excitement surged in the camp, with
even Alex momentarily intrigued. At the same time Dawn caught her breath.

But alas, the cause turned out to be two headlights, attached to an earthbound vehicle
which pulled up behind Shari's Ford Explorer. Three beings, albeit earthlings, got out of
the vehicle immediately -- one woman and two men. As the three approached Shari and
her team, it became apparent the woman was in charge.

Alex was about to laugh, when Dawn grabbed his sleeve with considerable force. Turning
to her and ready to be scolded for bad manners, he was surprised to see her urgently
signaling him to follow her. More intrigued than concerned, he did so, as she led him
further into the bushes to the right of where Shari and her team were meeting the
visitors. When they had reached a point where they were hidden behind bushes and
trees, Dawn grabbed Alex and whispered in his ear: "Patrons!"

Alex froze and immediately tried to see her expression in the darkness. The slight flicker
of the campfire's light told him she wasn't kidding. His mind quickly went into overdrive,
as he decided what to do. His first thought was to grab his revolver, the one in the
backpack he had left in Roger Jimenez's taxi. Then he turned to Dawn. "Do you have
your gun?"
"Yes," she answered, not sure she wanted to use it. "Don't you?"

"It's in my backpack," Alex admitted. "In the taxi."

"Clever," Dawn said, as she pulled her Lady Remington out of her backpack and handed
it to Alex. "I don't want to use it unless absolutely necessary."

"Don't worry," Alex replied. "I'm no hero."

Dawn didn't argue the point as she began leading Alex through the trees, outflanking the
new arrivals. At the same time, Shari was inviting the visitors back to camp, babbling on
about two other visitors she had just picked up. Dawn could feel Anna's vibration, and
yet could not pick up any indication on her part that she was aware of either Dawn or
Alex. That seemed strange.

Alex caught up with her mentally about the same time as he did physically. Taking her
arm, he whispered, "Get in their vehicle. Back it up, and turn it around. I'm going to
grab the keys from Shari's vehicle. Then wait for me, once you're pointed in the right
direction back toward town!"

Dawn had already decided on the first part of the plan, but decided Alex's addition was a
good idea. Her concern was whether or not, Anna's vehicle had the keys in it. This was
even more important inasmuch as Anna's vehicle blocked Shari's in something of a "box
canyon" scenario.

Fortunately, Dawn and Alex were on a roll that day. Both vehicles had their driver's side
facing away from the camp where Shari was already looking for Dawn and Alex. The two
desperadoes opened the doors simultaneously -- lighting the interiors of both vehicles.
Dawn leaped into the Jeep Cherokee, leading with her backpack, found the keys in the
ignition, thanked the Goddess, and turned the key. The engine started immediately -- a
fact witnessed by everyone in camp. Without hesitation, she gunned it in reverse, and in
a cloud of dust went sailing backwards. The backup lights worked just well enough to let
her see she could quickly turn around in a slight widening of the trail. She slammed on
the brakes of the four-wheel drive vehicle, and then turned on the headlights. She
immediately turned the vehicle to head back down the trail, and gunned it. Then she
remembered Alex and slammed on the brakes again. For the first time she heard the
shouts from the people in the camp behind her. For just a second, she wondered if Alex
had made it.

Abruptly the passenger side door opened and Alex tried to jump into his seat. With one
of the better examples of mind-body coordination, Dawn floored the gas petal the
moment Alex opened the door -- fast enough for Alex to almost not make it into the
vehicle. Only a good grip on the door and seat back prevented him from falling back
out. For several seconds he was hanging on, the door still open.

Dawn hit the brakes again, causing Alex to be thrown into the vehicle and against the
dash and windshield. He mumbled something about being in now, a shot was heard, a
bullet careened across the hood of the Cherokee (Dawn's having hit the brakes the last
time having resulted in the bullet missing the passengers). Then, spurred by the shot
across her bow, Dawn took off again in yet one more cloud of dust. Alex's door took that
moment to slam itself shut, while Alex himself managed to right himself in the seat and
desperately begin wrapping himself in the seat belt. Dawn had neglected her seat belt
altogether. But no one apparently cared about this minor infraction of pointless legality.

Another three shots were heard, but there was no sound of any near-miss bullets.
Things were beginning to look up for the dynamic duo when Alex suddenly blurted out,
"Shit! I must have dropped my gun back there!"
"Your gun?" Dawn replied, as she mentally shook her head. Then, thinking about it, she
decided it was a bad time to blame a fellow fugitive. Instead she concentrated on her
driving as she drove with reckless abandon down the road Shari had just arrived on (but
in the opposite direction). From Dawn's viewpoint there was nothing to be done about
the gun, and the condition in which this particular rental vehicle would be returned had
just become wonderfully unimportant. Anna could pay for all the damages, Dawn
thought, her eyes suddenly lighting up. Then with her attention on the road, she thought
of something else. "Did you get the keys to Shari's Explorer?"

Alex's concentration was more focused on the road and Dawn's wild driving, his eyes
wide and panicked. But, after a moment's hesitation, he replied, "Yes. But I think I
dropped them too."

Dawn frowned, took out a small row of bushes alongside the road, and asked, "Do you
have them in your hands? Or are they on the floorboard? Somewhere in the vehicle?"

Alex looked at his empty hands, and then bent over to look down at the floorboard. After
a quick glance, he found himself bounced back upright, as Dawn managed to find one of
the more serious potholes in the alleged road. Clutching the passenger side armrest with
one hand, and the leading edge of the front seat with the other, he answered, "No sign of
them."

Dawn stated the obvious. "Then you dropped them."

Alex tried to be the optimist, even as the vehicle swerved from a glancing blow to a small
pine tree along the road, seriously wounding the tree and hitting the upper edge of the
vehicle's passenger side cab and causing a dent and major league scratch along the
entire length of the cab. "But they'll be hard to find. There was a lot of dust back there,
and I think I dropped them while trying to hang on here."

"We're not going back," she said. And then she added, "I'm not worried." The latter was
a lie.

Alex was worried, however. He began to check out the interior of the Cherokee, trying to
feel useful, and simultaneously looking for ways to redeem himself by perhaps finding
something important. In the back seat, he hit pay dirt. It was a small electronic unit,
specifically designed to listen in on mobile telephone conversations. Potentially illegal for
individuals, and seldom talked about even in law-enforcement circles, the unit was state-
of-the-art in privacy invasion. It was also useful in the event one's quarry was into
mobile telephones. Alex, without moral compunction, grabbed the unit and opened the
case. Within moments, he had it figured out -- despite being bounced around inside the
dark cab.

As the unit turned on, there was a sound of static and a low voice. Alex found the
volume control, and the voice became loud enough to be heard above the static. The
first words overhead were: "...Roy Continental." (Which Alex promptly translated as
being the hotel where Dawn and he had stayed the previous night.) "Avoid any real
damage... If possible." (Alex swallowed, while Dawn swerved again to avoid another
tree.) "Any questions?" ('Well yes,' Alex thought. 'Now that you mention it...')

Another voice answered. "What about the villa?"

"It's being taken care of. Just handle your end! We haven't much time. Zedek out."

The Mobile Telephone Interception Unit (soon to be offered by Radio Shack under the
brand name, Empty IU, and on sale for a mere $199.95) then went silent. Alex left it on
-- just in case. Then he turned to Dawn. "Someone is on their way to 'the villa.' The
place we just came from?"

"Sounds reasonable," Dawn replied. She suddenly braked as they came off the road less
traveled, and approached the more traveled path between Tlamacas and, ultimately,
Mexico City.

"We may be meeting their friends on the road," Alex gently suggested. "So we probably
don't want to appear we're running away from something. You might want to slow
down."

"Good idea," Dawn agreed. Then she pulled onto the "improved" highway.

Alex then asked, with minimal aggression, "Want me to drive?"

Dawn's answer was a model of brevity. "No," she said.

Rejected, Alex shrugged his shoulders, decided his life expectancy was not that short --
particularly after the last moments on a back road of Tlamacas -- and asked instead,
"Who's Zedek?"

"Anna Zedek," Dawn answered. "One very tough lady and someone who seems to be the
right hand person for Nathan Fox." Then, with less confidence, "Gil knew her pretty
well."

"Ohhhh," Alex replied. "That Anna." Then, with surprise cropping up in his voice, "I
seem to recall Gil had some mixed feelings about her." Dawn swallowed silently, before
refocusing her attention on driving the back roads of Mexico in the dark -- one of the
more notable adventures available to the going-for-the-gusto jet set.

Alex continued blithely on. "Gil said this Anna gal was pretty high up in the Patrons, but
that she was a potential ally. Trouble is, he could never be sure. She might have been
using him for her own purposes." Then he turned to Dawn. "At least, that's what I
seemed to remember from my last conversation with him."

Dawn didn't answer, giving Alex leave to fall silent. Her thoughts kept swinging back and
forth between her driving and thoughts of Anna. Dawn couldn't understand why Anna
had not picked up on her telepathically. Going back in her mind to the chronology of
events at Shari's camp, neither could Dawn recall at any point on picking up any hint of
Anna's having been surprised by Dawn and Alex's abrupt appearance -- nor of their
departure. Perhaps Anna had simply not had her intuition tuned. But then again, that
didn't make sense.

There was also the question of whether or not Anna had given anyone instructions about
checking for Dawn and Alex at the airport. If she hadn't, then Anna had inexplicably left
Dawn and Alex an escape route. That would not make sense either, at least from Dawn's
point of view. Anna was not that stupid. Of course, there was also the implied insult of
Anna thinking Dawn and Alex might be equally stupid if she thought they would go back
to their hotel for their luggage.

But the questions were too perplexing, and too distracting for the immediate driving
demands. The last swerve and pothole-inspired bounce had convinced Dawn of that
fact. Alex gallantly passed up the opportunity to again offer to drive. He even avoided
making any comments on her wild driving -- her driving being sufficiently wild to
measure up to that of the craziest local madman. The amazing thing, from Alex's
viewpoint was that, other than some major league dents in virtually every exposed
surface of the Cherokee, the vehicle was still running and carrying them with all due
haste toward the airport.

As they entered the outlying districts of Mexico City, they received an extra surprise. A
cellular telephone lying dormant in the back seat of Anna's rental vehicle suddenly
sprang to life. The polite ringing sound of the telephone immediately had the same
effect on both Dawn and Alex as would have an air raid siren's sudden wailing -- or the
words "incoming" in the trenches of World War II. But by the second ring, Alex's heart
had restarted and he was able to retrieve the telephone from the back seat and set it
down on the front seat. He looked at it, and then at Dawn. When she only shrugged her
shoulders in silent consent, Alex took a deep breath and answered the telephone.

"Hello?" It was his best rendition of a calm and matter-of-fact answering voice.

"Good evening, Doctor Dukas," Nathan replied, his voice buoyant and cordial. "This is
Nathan Fox. I'm sure I need no introduction to you."

Alex could not imagine admitting to anything. Bleakly, he asked, "Who?"

Nathan was not about to dignify the denial with an explanation. "I trust you're enjoying
your tour of the Mexican Highlands. I understand it's quite beautiful this time of year."

Alex was still having trouble breathing normally, but managed with as little fear-based
emotion as possible, "Excuse me. Is this a crank call?"

Nathan suddenly laughed in the good humor version of a monarch about to sentence a
fool to the gallows. "Well done, Doctor Dukas. I've always enjoyed humor under stress.
And I can appreciate that you're under a great deal of stress as of late. Running around
an unfriendly foreign country with a known felon and in a stolen vehicle... That must
truly give one pause to reflect on one's mortality and the inevitable pain of being
summarily dispatched."

"Gee," Alex replied, in a pathetically cheerful voice, "I'm afraid you've gotten the wrong
number. We're born again Christians doing missionary work in Mexico."

Nathan's voice abruptly turned cold and menacing. "One must keep in mind, Doctor
Dukas, that the essential element in humor is timing. And your second attempt is failing
in that regard. You might be better advised to direct your attention in the direction of
your and Miss Riordan's ultimate fate -- particularly in the face of certain defeat.
Fortunately for you in that regard, my associates and I are always open to compromise
with worthy and interesting adversaries."

"Well bless you for that my son," Alex cheerfully answered. "But I'm afraid our batteries
on the cellular are about to expire, and we're going to have to end this interesting
conversation prematurely. I’m sure you’ll understand."

"If you persist in this lunacy, Doctor Dukas, I'm afraid your expected lifetime may be
shorter than those of your telephone's batteries."

"If you need a doctor," Alex thoughtfully added, "May I suggest you call nine one one."

"Negotiation," Nathan replied, his voice hardened even more, "never killed anyone. But
the failure to do so has resulted in many lost lives."

"And you have a nice day too," Alex answered, and promptly hung up the telephone.
Dawn didn't really have to ask, but did so anyway. "Who was that?"

"Someone named Nathan Fox," Alex meekly replied. "Anna must have told him about
our cellular telephone. Something we should have thought of before."

Neither said anything as they considered their plight, and continued along the
increasingly busy streets of Mexico City. Suddenly Alex, pointed to a relatively modern
hotel. "Stop here." When Dawn began to pull up to the lighted curb directly in front of
the hotel, Alex became more specific. "Not here. Up ahead, in the next block where the
curb is dark."

Dawn did as Alex had suggested. As she pulled over and stopped, Alex added, "Leave
the keys in the ignition, bring everything you want to keep, and come with me."

The two of them got out of the vehicle, and with Alex leading began walking back to the
hotel. At the hotel's front entrance, Alex hailed a taxi which had just stopped to unload a
hotel guest. Dawn and he hopped into the taxi and Alex gave the driver their
destination. "Airport. And pronto! We're in a hurry."

The driver took Alex at his word and rapidly accelerated into traffic. As they passed their
abandoned vehicle, they could see two young thieves already into the Jeep Cherokee and
starting it. The Jeep then pulled out onto the street just behind the taxi. For a moment,
it followed the taxi. Then it turned off and proceeded down a side street. Alex turned to
Dawn with a broad smile on his face. Dawn silently acknowledged that his plan may
indeed have worked. She could only hope that the two young thieves were well on their
way to the hinterlands of Mexico with their prize.
The Star

Chapter Fifteen

The airport at Mexico City proved relatively uneventful. Neither of the two fugitives
bothered to suggest they buy tickets to some other diversionary location -- the scheme
obviously wasn't working. Alex also had the concern they were spending money
somewhat more rapidly than he had anticipated. A minor frugality came over him, as
they wandered though the portals eager to take large sums of dollars and/or pesos from
impulse buying tourists and rich Americans who had waited until the last minute to buy
souvenirs and make flight reservations. Dawn and Alex, being in the latter lot, were thus
forced to spend two and a half times the discount rate for the airline tickets which would
afford them precisely the same arrival time, the same dismal lack of food fare, and the
same standard airline inconveniences.

Dawn was fairly oblivious to the monetary transactions, paying more attention to the
possibility of interference from any one of the multiple groups which might be after
them. She felt a small amount of relief when she realized the Lima flight they had
booked was leaving within forty minutes. She then spent her time primed to pick up any
danger signals. She relaxed only when the airplane was streaking down the runway and
beginning to feel the effects of the wind under its wings. The fact the DC 10 was only
about ten percent loaded, added to her comfort level, because she could see anyone who
might approach their seats while they were still at a considerable distance. There was an
amazing degree of privacy. The Argentine National airline they were flying was state
supported, which explained the need for paying customers. At the same time the pilots
were from Texas and New Jersey, respectively. Neither spoke Spanish, and both had
only marginal command of the English language.

The only other minor difficulty was the flight arrived in Lima at 4:45 AM Local time. It is
a fact of life that flights originating from the United States and Western Europe depart
and arrive at intelligent hours, i.e. between 6 am in the morning and 11 pm at night.
The rest of the world puts up with this by having their flights arrive and depart at
whatever hour allows for the flight to eventually originate and arrive in Western Europe
and the United States at reasonable hours. It's not particularly democratic on a world
class basis, but it's never-the-less one of those inequities of modern life.

Added to this was the fact the flight out of Mexico City departed at the moderately decent
hour of eleven o'clock at night, but then proceeded to fly southeastward on its way to
Lima, Peru. The flight was four hours long (not including the 45 minutes of cumulative
delay on the ground in Mexico City and in the air circling off the coast of Peru). They also
lost an hour, flying from CDT to EDT. It is generally not appreciated that Lima, Peru, on
the west coast of South America is on the same longitude (77 degrees West) as
Washington, DC; and that the Panama Canal is somewhat east of Key West, Florida. In
any case, Dawn and Alex deboarded their plane around 4:45 in the morning, Lima time.
Customs went amazingly well -- their having virtually no luggage. (Supposedly, their
luggage had not made flight connections, and their luggage tags had been lost when
someone stole Alex's wallet in Mexico City -- both very plausible explanations).
At the same time, customs officials in Peru were particularly interested in arms bring
smuggled into the country, and inasmuch as Dawn and Alex looked pretty harmless, they
were readily passed through. While Peru officially did not like gun-toting tourists, they
always welcomed gold-bearing ones. The lady official who checked Dawn seemed quite
nonplused by Dawn's cargo of gold. Of course, she saw only a few of the coins, and thus
readily bought Dawn's explanation of these being emergency funds.

In Lima itself, however, there was a bit of a quandary. Their destination was Cuzco, east
of Lima and lying in between the Cordillera Oriental and the Cordillera Central, the
successive waves of mountain building along the South American western coast. On the
one hand, all of the scheduled flights from Lima to Cuzco, i.e. from the seacoast where
the capital of Peru lay to the 11,200 foot elevation of the ancient city of Cuzco, were in
the early morning. The Southern flank of the leading edge of the western Andes had the
habit of producing some god-awful clear air turbulence and devastating wind shear along
its steep slopes each and every afternoon. For years, scheduled afternoon flights had
been canceled on a routine basis until the airlines finally wised up and decided to
schedule only morning flights. Unfortunately, the airlines did not add any additional
planes to account for the normal traffic between Lima and Cuzco to make up for the
canceled afternoon flights. Thus there were no flights available to Cuzco, for the next
two days. There were only standby possibilities, and this seemed chancy at best.

Alex was a man not overly blessed with patience. The idea of hanging around Lima, or
finding a hotel in which to crash, was not a remote possibility. Alex went in search of a
private plane, while Dawn headed for the local pretense at sanitary facilities in order to
affect some repair of her physical appearance. Unfortunately, the plumbing in Lima’s
airport was marginal at best, and complicated by the imposition of severe water use
restrictions. For Alex, his options were limited by the availability of a single private
plane. It nevertheless took each of them about an hour, and by six o'clock in the
morning they were aboard a two-seater prop (upon which, Alex, to his increasingly great
distress, had blown another wad of cash).

The pilot's name was Francisco Lawrence, descended from the Lawrences of Atlanta,
Georgia. But in his guise as local compatriot, everyone called him Cisco. From his
viewpoint, being called the Cisco Kid was better than returning to the U.S. and possibly
facing draft-dodging charges -- even if, unbeknownst to him, the U.S. government had
given up any pretense of looking for him a decade ago. Cisco was, after all, an
entrepreneur. He was also a free spirit, and the combination of the two personality traits
was perfectly accounted for by his custom-flying the Andes for rich Americans. The job
paid well, and he was freer than the vast majority of law-abiding citizens in the "land of
the free". But then again, law-abiding citizens have never been particularly free.

In typical fashion, Cisco introduced himself by suggesting alternative ways for his
passengers to spend their money. Once airborne (and thus with the ultimate captive
audience), he began one of several spiels. "You wish a slight detour to see the Bay of
Paracas? Cisco can do. No problem." Cisco in his disguise for many years had
intentionally modified his English to sound like a native with only a marginal command of
the language. This affection down played his ancestry and played up his entrepreneurial
eagerness to please and sell the customer whatever he was currently pushing.

Alex, not privy to Cisco's background as a youth, could only think about the implications
of an addition to their travel plans. Knowingly, he asked, "How much?"

"For you, because I like you," Cisco replied, "A mere one hundred American dollars.
Cash."

Alex could not help but scowl. "No thanks," he replied.

"But you don't want to miss Viracocha's forked lightning symbol, do you? It's
spectacular!" When Alex did not appear to bite, he added, "Might as well see it. With all
the commercial jets flying into Cuzco, we will probably get stuck in a holding pattern
once we get there. Flying along the coast to the Bay of Paracas would therefore not
involve any additional time."

Alex was not convinced. "But we flew out ahead of the commercial jets."

"Si," the pilot agreed. "We had to. Otherwise, we at the end of take off line. But we
also fly slower than they do. They will get there first, and they have priority. You
understand?"

Alex made a deep grunt of displeasure, while Dawn looked on smiling. Then she said,
opening her purse and pulling out a fifty. "I'll give you fifty dollars to fly over the Bay,
and tell us all about it." Dawn had been taking lessons in south-of-the-border
negotiations.

Cisco laughed uproariously. He loved to bargain. But he also had bigger game in mind.
"For you pretty lady, I do it. Special guided tour. You be delighted!"

"Good," Dawn replied, in a full, confident voice. Then in a low whisper, she asked Alex,
"What are we about to see? Do you know?"

Alex looked at her in disbelief. Then he laughed, and said quietly, "Wait and see."



The sight, from Dawn's point of view, was worth the fifty dollars. On the mountainside
above the Bay of Paracas, visible from the air and the ocean, laid a huge trident of forked
lightning. Clearly artificial and highly symbolic, the massive sign seemed to proclaim to
gods and men alike that this place was the Realm of the Storm God.

The Bay of Paracas that it guarded was one of the most notable anchorages along the
southern coast of Peru and northern Chile. The anchorage had even appeared on Piri
Re's map, an ancient extant map dated A.D. 1513 which accurately depicted the Andean
mountains, the rivers including the Amazon flowing eastward, and the South American
Pacific coast from about four degrees to forty degrees south (i.e. from Ecuador through
Peru and midway down through Chile).

Viracocha's symbol of forked lightning was similar in construction to the patterns etched
in the Nazca plains further south. There strange shapes ranged from an eight-legged
spider some 150 feet in length to a long-billed hummingbird to huge geometrical figures
whose ruler-straight lines and angles could hardly be bettered with modern surveying
instruments. All were created by scraping the ground of a thin layer of dark, weathered
gravel, uncovering lighter colored gravel beneath. Many of these symbols could not be
identified as such from the ground, and were only vaguely identifiable when one was
specifically looking for them. Almost all of the patterns, etched long before 1000 A.D.,
were never even known to the modern world until pilots began flying over them.

After several passes for maximum effect, Cisco turned the aircraft eastward and began
gaining altitude. The mountains of the Peruvian Andes regularly reach 23,000 feet in
elevation, and airplanes have to fly over or around them. In the meantime, however,
Cisco was not adverse to setting up for the next sale. But first: "Soon you get to see the
great Incan Civilization," he began. "You heard of the Incas?" When Dawn said she had,
Cisco added, "The Incas the civilization that immediately preceded the Dinkas and the
Dos!" Abruptly, he began laughing uproariously. As both Alex and Dawn shook their
heads, Cisco managed to regain some control. "I just love that joke!"
With his passengers now in a good mood, Cisco proceeded to the next stage. "You look
like good people to me: Astute and trustworthy." When neither of the passengers said
anything, and only smiled, strongly suspecting they were being gently set up, he added,
"For you, I make a special deal. See the cooler in front of you?" When they
acknowledged as such, he said, "Open it. In it you find a very special piece. Pre-
Columbian. I can make you a special price."

Alex opened the cooler, found a small, cloth wrapped object the size of a honeydew
melon, and set it in his lap where he began to unwrap it. The art object was a small
pitcher of reddish brown pottery. Only this piece had the added artistic flair of
graphically depicting a well-endowed female providing fellatio for an even more well-
endowed male. Dawn caught her breath, just before breaking into laughter. Of the two,
Alex was more embarrassed. He should have seen it coming.

"Now you know why they call it Pre-Columbian art," Cisco announced. "After the Catholic
priests began arriving, this style of art didn't get a lot of official sanction." The pilot
laughed, thoroughly enjoying himself. Then he added, "The Incas were not the most
literate people in the world. So they liked to instruct their citizens in the more rewarding
aspects of life by depicting things on their pottery. I think it's a good policy." Then he
sobered slightly, "This is a prize piece. You can't get it just anywhere."

"What about the museums?" Alex asked.

"They have a nice collection in Lima," the pilot answered. "But they don't let women see
it. They are very chauvinistic. This is the only chance for women to get educated. In
my airplane."

"And I'm sure you do a wonderful job," Dawn laughed, "in your airplane."

Cisco did not quite get the joke, but kept smiling. "You like to keep the art?" he asked.

Dawn could only shake her head, as Alex began wrapping it back up in the cloth. "I just
don't know where I would keep it, where I would display it in my home."

"In the bedroom," Cisco helpfully suggested.

"I don't think so," Dawn confided. In an effort to divert the conversation, she asked,
"Does anyone know why those great figures on the Nazca plains and the Bay of Paracas
were drawn?"

The disappointed entrepreneur shrugged his shoulders. "No body seems to know."

Alex then took a deep breath, catching Dawn's attention. Quietly, he said, "Actually,
there is a theory which explains it pretty well."

"Oh good," Dawn exclaimed. "One of your theories. I can't wait!" Even Cisco lent an
attentive ear.

When Alex was reasonably confident Dawn was sincere about wanting to hear and Cisco
was not about to laugh, he began. "Several scholars have made related suggestions, but
one fellow named Zecharia Sitchin, an ancient history and biblical scholar, pieced it all
together. Basically, it all comes down to this: The Incas, Mayans, Aztecs, and all of their
ancestors derived rather directly from the Old World, from the Sumerian, Egyptian, and
Indus Valley Civilizations. All of these early societies are related."

Dawn was incredulous. "How is that possible?"

Alex stopped to regroup. "Let me start over. Sitchin's principal argument is that all of
the gods of mythology -- particularly those of the Sumerian, the world's oldest
civilization, circa 2000 to 11,000 B.C. -- all of those gods were extraterrestrials."

Dawn looked a bit more than skeptical, while Cisco, overhearing part of the conversation,
decided he had some more loco Norte Americanos on board. But neither said anything.

"Hear me out," Alex continued. "According to the theory, a half million years ago,
extraterrestrials came from a planet in our solar system, a planet which is unknown to
modern science due to the fact its orbital period is some 3600 years, and that right now
it is way beyond the planet Pluto. The last close approach where it would have been
visible to the naked eye was thousands of years ago. These extraterrestrials came to
earth to mine gold. All of this is well documented in ancient Sumerian tablets, which
refer to these extraterrestrials as the "A.NU.NA.KI". The word means, literally, 'Those
who from heaven to earth came.'"

Dawn almost laughed. "And they came to mine gold!?"

"Yes," Alex said, his voice calm, but underlain with a subtle intensity. "The Sumerian
records were very explicit about this. Even the Bible mentions it." When Dawn's
eyebrows immediately rose, Alex quickly added, "Check it out. In the second chapter of
Genesis, immediately after God has made the heaven and the earth, has make man in
his image, breathed the breath of life into him, installed him in the Garden of Eden, and
before he warned man of not eating of the fruits of the tree of knowledge of good and
evil... God informed us there was gold in Havilah, and that the gold of that land was
good. After which, God formed the beasts of the field and made Eve. It would seem
apparent that Gold was inordinately important!"

Alex smiled, his point seemingly made. Then he continued. "Significantly, there were
two main gods among the Anunnaki. One of them was EN.KI, whose name means Lord
of the Earth, and the other was EN.LIL, which means Lord of the Command. They were
half brothers, and while Enki was older, the first born son of his father, Enlil was the first
born of his father and his father's half-sister! This latter fact gave him precedence as the
heir apparent, just as Abraham and his half-sister Sarah's son, Isaac, had precedence
over Ishmael. The rivalry between these half-brothers is extensively documented in the
Sumerian texts. It's important to us, in that Enki and Enlil, together, constitute the God
of Genesis."

Dawn was even more surprised. "The God of Genesis is two gods!?"

"It's the only way it makes sense. In Genesis, God created man and the Garden of
Eden. Then he threw Adam and Eve out, but he clothed them before doing so. He
cursed Cain, and then announced that anyone slaying Cain would have vengeance taken
on him sevenfold. He was willing to let all of the people perish in the flood, but then he
saved Noah and his family and friends. Either the God of Genesis has a major split
personality, or there are two gods. In the Sumerian version, there are clearly two. Even
the Jesuits of the Catholic Church have begun to recognize there were two Gods in the
Book of Genesis. Admittedly, their conclusions have not yet been officially sanctioned or
made public on a wide scale."

"I can understand that." Dawn replied. Then, "And you actually believe this?"

Alex smiled. "Yes, I do. Genesis never made sense to me until I realized it was an
executive summary of the older Sumerian texts. And when you realize there were two
gods competing with each other, then a whole slew of confusing passages suddenly make
sense.
"It's important to keep in mind that it was Enki, along with his half sister, NIN.KI, who
created mankind. On the other hand, Enlil made the Garden of Eden, but then later
threw Adam and Eve out on the street. In turn, it was Enki who gave them the door
prize on the way out and clothed them. Then, when Enlil wanted to wipe man off the
face of the earth with the flood, it was Enki who saved Noah and his kin. The Sumerian
texts go into a great deal of detail about Enki and Noah, the latter being referred to in
the Sumerian texts as Ziusudra."

"Wait a minute," Dawn interjected, sensing a discontinuity in the explanation. "If Enki
and Enlil were extraterrestrials, how did they create the Flood? Better yet, how did they
create man?"

Alex smiled, in the manner of someone who was ready for a particular question. "The
Flood was not caused by Enlil. The Flood occurred when the Anunnaki's planet made a
close encounter with the Earth. This cosmic flyby caused the ice cap in Antarctica --
undoubtedly much, much larger than the current one and very unstable -- to slide off the
continent into the ocean. This caused the Flood, which was essentially a massive tidal
wave. Then with all that ice reaching more temperate latitudes, subsequently melting
and becoming available to the hydrological cycle, there began the forty day Deluge. The
Flood and Deluge are separate events, but connected in terms of cause and effect.
Importantly, both were due to natural causes, or alternatively caused by the true God,
the creator of the universe. In any case, Enlil was only forewarned of the event, based
on the likely scenario of a close encounter of the Earth with his home planet.

"Long before this Enlil had been enraged when he realized that man and woman had
eaten of the tree of knowledge of good and evil and thereby learned how to
procreate themselves. He threw them out of what the Sumerians called E.DIN. He was
also very unhappy with mankind multiplying upon the face of the Earth, and was eager to
wipe out humanity. Enki, on the other hand, the true father of mankind, had developed
an attachment to them and was eager to save his progeny. Which he did, against the
express wishes of Enlil, who had ordered the Anunnaki not to help mankind."

"That explains the Flood. Maybe. But just how did this Enki manage to create man?"

"Genetics," Alex answered simply. "Enki and Ninki took the genes of Homo erectus and
cross bred them with the Anunnaki genes. Fourteen female Anunnaki were used as
breeders, with Ninki being the first test case, the first mother. The end result was the
creation of mankind from Homo erectus some quarter of a million years ago.

Science has confirmed this basic time frame by establishing through the study of
mitochondrial DNA that there was one single woman, living some 250,000 years ago,
who was the mother of all the people now living on the Earth [1]. More recent studies
have shown that all of the males of our species can be traced back to a single father of
the same time period [2]. Mankind was truly made in the image of the gods, or in other
words, the Anunnaki. Man is, in fact, a half breed."

Dawn looked at Alex skeptically. "Man is a half breed between a monkey and an ET?"

Alex laughed. "Homo erectus was considerably more than a monkey." Then still smiling,
he added, "In Genesis 1:26, God said, 'Let us make man in our image, after our
likeness.' Okay. But who's 'us'? What did he mean, 'our image, our likeness'? How
about the image and likeness of the Anunnaki, what ancient history refers to as the
gods? Mankind is the result of genetic manipulation?"

For a moment, Dawn just looked at him. When she didn't speak, Alex added, "There is
also Genesis 6:2 where 'the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair.'
And in verse 4, 'the sons of God came unto the daughters of men, and they bare children
to them.' This was just a case of the Anunnaki marrying the human females. This too, is
described in detail in the Sumerian texts, where in one specific case it tells the story of
an Anunnaki suitor asking his mother for permission to marry a human."

Dawn shook her head. "I just had a thought," she murmured wistfully. "In addition to
everyone else who is out to get us, now we can look forward to the fundamentalists
wanting to silence us!" As Alex laughed, she added, "And they're probably the most
dangerous of the lot!"

"You may have to trust me on this one," Alex said, after a few seconds. "Or else read
Sitchin's work, all seven volumes [3], of a couple of volumes of Laurence Gardner's [4]
work, Bramley's volume [5], and a whole host of others." Then he leaned back, watching
Dawn closely.

Dawn thought for a few minutes, until finally she said, "When you talk about
extraterrestrials hovering around the volcanoes looking for precious metals, you're
actually serious!"

Alex took a deep breath. "Yes, I am. Think about it. Extraterrestrials came to earth a
half million years ago. They came to mine gold. And quite possibly all of the related
precious metals which tend to cluster with gold deposits. They mined the gold for
millennia, but then they got tired of the hard work -- a situation amply described in the
Sumerian texts where they describe nothing less than a mutiny of the Anunnaki.

Enki and Ninki solved the Anunnaki's problem by cross breeding Homo erectus and
thereby "created mankind" in order to mine the gold instead. But Enki and his half-sister
went one step further and created man with the ability to procreate, 'to eat of the tree
of life.' After that, mankind began to flourish, and despite a few setbacks such as the
Flood and Deluge, conquered the earth. All the while, mankind worshipped the gods
and goddesses, i.e. the Anunnaki, who were lording it over them.

"Notice how it all ties in with everything else," Alex added. "Maybe the Anunnaki knew
about the ORME, the mono-atomic gold, silver, rhodium, iridium, and so forth. As a
matter of fact, coincidentally, in the Hebrew tradition there is the Orme tree, which is
esoterically 'The Tree of Life'."

"This is absolutely incredible," Dawn replied. "All those gods and goddesses..."

Alex smiled. "The Sumerian pantheon is quite a collection. Enlil, of course, was the
angry, vengeful god of the Old Testament, while Enki was the god who kept saving
mankind. Enki, in fact, was also known as the God of Wisdom. He was a scientist and
an engineer, and probably the most knowledgeable of all of the Anunnaki. He was the
true genius.

"At the same time, Ninki, his half-sister, was no slouch herself. One of her Anunnaki
titles was Chief Medical Officer, and she undoubtedly contributed as much as Enki to the
genetic experiments which created man. In fact, she was probably more important in
that she carried the first half breed, the 'Adama,' to term -- literally giving birth to
mankind. She would have to be considered the true creator, the mother of mankind.
Ninki is also, undoubtedly, the reason for the matriarchal religions which flourished some
ten thousand years ago all across the planet, and which still have worshipers to this very
day.

"There were also the sons of Enlil and Enki, and a fair number of grandchildren. Enki's
oldest son, for example, was MAR.DUK, who later became known as the god of Babylon.
Marduk caused a lot of trouble, and even Enki became pretty well fed up with him. But
Enki also had some good sons, the most notable one, an Anunnaki called
NIN.GISH.ZI.DA."

"Tell me about Nin-gish-whatever you said," Dawn asked.

"NIN.GISH.ZI.DA," Alex replied, carefully pronouncing each syllable. Then his expression
became more contemplative. "He was the scribe of the gods, the communicator, the
inheritor of Enki's science and wisdom. Probably more than any other god, he's the one
who brought knowledge to mankind. Ningishzida was also the god who never became
directly involved in the wars and skirmishes between the Enlil and Enki factions -- which
included most of their other sons. In fact, as part of a peace treaty proposed and
facilitated by Ninki in the midst of one war, Ningishzida was the compromise new ruler of
Egypt, the only son of Enki who was acceptable to Enlil and his side.

"Ningishzida was, in fact, the same as the Egyptian god, Thoth, while Marduk was Ra,
and Enki, Ptah. Egypt, you see, was Enki's territory, along with the rest of Africa. All of
Egypt's earliest gods were Enki's side of the family. Enlil, on the other hand, had Asia for
his domain, including the Middle East and modern day Iraq, which was the center of what
we now think of as the Sumerian civilization."

"And Enlil's sons?"

"One of them was ISH.KUR, who was also known as Adad, the Storm God." When
Dawn's eyes lit up, he added, "The forked trident over the Bay of Paracas is Ishkur's.
You see, the Sumerian gods went far afield in their quest for gold. They also needed tin
to make bronze for their human civilizations, and Lake Titicaca in Brazil is one of only two
major sources in the world.

"Ishkur is not talked about as much in the Sumerian texts, but later civilizations, such as
the Hittites in Asia Minor, revered him as their principal god. He's inevitably identified as
a Storm god, the God of Thunder, and so forth. This suggests he might have had
something of a temper... or maybe he just liked to be noisy. He was probably a pretty
tough dude. He certainly figured in as a star in some of the wars among the Anunnaki --
wars which the Greeks called, "The War of the Titans'."

"And Ishkur was Enlil's son?"

"Yes, but he was his third son. His older brother was NIN.UR.TA. Now there was one
mean god-pretender. Ninurta was invariably identified in the Sumerian texts as the
greatest warrior, the fiercest fighter. He was also Enlil's heir apparent, and thus had the
most to lose of any of the Anunnaki if things went badly for Enlil. Accordingly, he was
Enlil's most loyal son and his most enthusiastic supporter."

"The original fundamentalist," Dawn suggested -- her mind suddenly recalling her
surprise when learning of Nathan Fox's apparently extreme right-wing views.

"Certainly, the arch-conservative," Alex added. Then smiling slightly, he added, "One
thing I found particularly interesting was that Ninurta and Marduk were born, like their
parents, on the Anunnaki's home world, whereas Ishkur and Ningishzida were born on
Earth. Thus the latter two seem to have a more vested interest in the ultimate fate of
our planet. At the same time, Enki and Ninki, as the true creators of mankind, have the
more pronounced interest in the survival, growth and ultimate destiny of mankind. Enki
also has the added incentive of having lost his chance to rule his home world because of
Enlil, and is therefore more likely to invest his energies in Earth. Thus, we have some
gods and goddesses on the side of mankind, some on the side of Earth -- with or without
mankind -- and some who see both mankind and Earth as nothing more than a resource
of be exploited. Enlil and Ninurta, for example, are not likely to be our friends."
"Are there any goddesses?" Dawn asked, "other than Ninki?"

Alex frowned slightly. "The Anunnaki were extremely patriarchal, but the females did
play some significant roles. The most noteworthy goddess in my book is Inanna. She
was the goddess of most everything, at least in those parts of the world under her sway.
That was primarily the Indus Valley Civilization, but Inanna was not the type to be kept
down on the farm or exiled to the hinterlands of the early civilizations. It seems that
Inanna was a great favorite of her great grandfather, the father of Enki and Enlil. Her
great grandfather allowed her the use of his royal visit lodgings in Uruk, one of the
principal cities of the Sumerian Mesopotamia, whenever she was so inclined -- which was
most of the time.

"Keep in mind, Inanna was also the granddaughter of Enlil, through Enlil's second son,
and also the granddaughter of Enki, through one of his daughters. She and her twin
brother, U.TU, might very well have been conceived in an attempt to reduce the
hostilities between the Enlil and Enki ancestral lines. But of course," Alex added,
laughing slightly, "Being a woman, Inanna had her own ideas."

With a stroke of his beard, he continued. "She was quite a female. Certainly not
someone who would pass up any opportunity to gain power any way she could. There
are several myths whereby she conned Enki out of some valuable information, and
thoroughly wasted Marduk for similar goals."

"My kind of gal," Dawn replied, only partly in jest.

"All of the Anunnaki had pretty definite ideas of about what was what. They were also
extremely territorial. That's why you see things like Ishkur's forked lightening symbol on
the side of a mountain. It may also have something to do with the Nazca lines, but their
purpose is less clear."

Dawn's finger came up to touch her lips, as a thought occurred to her. "I realize the
Nazca lines are much larger and were done a long time ago, but is there any connection
between them and the crop circles? I mean, they're both enigmatic and no one has a
clue as to what they mean."

Alex thought for a moment before replying. "I don't know of any connection. But there
was one particular crop formation which might be particularly relevant. It showed up in
August of 1991 in Wiltshire, England. But instead of circles, it was a single line of glyphs,
all between twelve and fifteen feet high. A fellow named Michael Green figured out that
the letters were based on some archaic language, and he was able to decipher that two
of the words were Ptah and Enki." [6]

"Didn't you say Ptah and Enki were one and the same?"

"Yes," Alex answered, smiling broadly. "One might suspect that the crop circles, or at
least some of them, are the handiwork of Enki. After all, Stonehenge in southwestern
England was almost certainly the work of Enki, and inasmuch as England was probably
Enki's territory as well, that might explain why the majority of crop circles are occurring
in the British Isles."

Dawn shook her head, pleased and skeptical at the same time. "All of the mythological
gods and goddesses were extraterrestrials. What a concept! Absolutely incredible."

"It also makes sense," Alex quickly added. "Why else do they end up with such wildly
diverse personalities unless they're living, breathing beings up to their own
shenanigans?"
Dawn smiled slightly, as something seemed to click in. "I'm reminded of a book I read
several years ago, by a Jungian psychologist. The basic idea was that the mythological
gods and goddesses were archetypes of how people reacted today. A woman, for
example, who became very successful in a male-dominated society was a Pallas Athena
archetype, while a very nurturing mother was a Demeter archetype. Or an aggressive,
warlike male was a Mars archetype. Donald Trump was probably a Zeus."

"Ah yes," Alex agreed. "Jung and his concept of archetypes. Interesting idea."

"But now," Dawn objected, "You're telling me there's the possibility that someone acting
like Pallas Athena may simply have the genes of Athena!"

Throwing his head back, Alex laughed a hearty laugh. "I had never thought of it that
way! Yes, I suppose there might be something to that. Of course, I would think by now
we would have the genes of virtually all of the gods and goddess. We could be any so-
called deity we chose to be!"

"I just had another thought," Dawn added, her mind working overtime. "David Hudson
could be a Zeus archetype." Then she turned to Alex, looking at him appraisingly. "And
you..."

Alex, grinning from ear to ear, held up one hand to claim his own heritage. "Hermes."

Dawn laughed, agreeing with him. "The trickster."

Alex shook his head. "The communicator."

"Hermes played around a lot, didn't he? Somewhat promiscuous?"

Alex looked hurt. Then he retorted, "Careful, Aphrodite. Those who live in glass
houses..."

Dawn was pleasantly surprised. "You think of me as an Aphrodite archetype?"

Now Alex was surprised. "Of course. Very much so."

That was all Dawn needed, as she relaxed back into her seat. It was probably the nicest
thing Alex had said to her, and she was bound and determined to enjoy it for all it was
worth. God (and/or Goddess) forbid she was going to interrupt this feeling with some
meaningless explanation.

For a time, each of them allowed the other person some mental space. But then, as the
airplane came within range of Cuzco and began to descend slightly, Dawn broke the
silence, "While you were asleep on the ride from Phoenix to Flagstaff, Koco mentioned
something about the Phoenix bird, what she said was called in Sumerian, the Ben-Bird, a
flying creature, rising from the flames of its own making."

Alex smiled, guessing her question. "Probably a spaceship of the Anunnaki during a
launch."

"That's what I was thinking," Dawn replied. "It makes more sense that way."

Alex then grinned, as another thought came to him. "Sitchin tells the story of a young
man who went out hiking one day. As darkness fell, he gathered together a portion of
nature for a pillow and then laid down to sleep. He then had what he initially thought
was a dream, where he saw beings moving up and down a ladder of some kind, between
the ground and a craft above. Then he saw one of the beings standing in a portal of the
craft itself, which the young man assumed was the commander of the other beings.
Then the commander spoke to the hiker!" Alex turned to Dawn. "Now... Would you
believe a story like that?"

Dawn laughed. "After Shari and her UFO stories, probably not."

Alex grinned, his mischief now obvious. "It's the story of Jacob. Genesis 28: 11-13."

Dawn looked at Alex for several moments. Her directed frown made her feelings quite
clear. Then, she added, in her best Daffy Duck imitation, "You're despicable!"

Alex leaned back, laughing. He was suddenly feeling very good. Dawn could not help
but smile herself. And for several minutes they each enjoyed the rapport.

Then Alex's thinking took a different turn, one he had been dwelling on before Dawn had
asked about the Phoenix. "Back in Fort Collins," he began, "You told me about this
Nathan, the head of The Patrons. I've been thinking about him, and your archetypes.
Nathan sounds a bit like Ninurta, Enlil's first born son -- what you called, the original
fundamentalist."

"What about him?"

"Besides being probably the most belligerent of all of the Sumerian gods, Ninurta was
also the one who advocated and then carried out the atomic-bombing of Sodom and
Gomorrah."

Dawn was once again shocked to the core. "Sodom and Gomorrah were A-bombed!!?"

"There was a major war going on at the time," Alex answered. "One in which Abraham
was a major player, a leader of an elite band of mercenaries."

Alex suddenly became aware of Dawn's incredulous stare, and misinterpreted her
amazement. Quickly, as if to explain, he said, "The Sunday School version of Abraham
as a simple sheepherder is just a bit silly. Abraham might have used the sheepherding
bit as a cover, but in essence, he was a commander of an elite military force. In Genesis
14:14, for example, when Abraham had heard that Lot had been captured by the other
side, the patriarch armed his trained servants, some three hundred and eighteen, and
went after his brother's captors. Think about that. Abraham, a sheepherder, just
happened to have three hundred and eighteen trained servants and enough weapons to
arm all of them! Trust me on this one. Any sheep in Abraham's camp were there to feed
the troops!"

For a second Alex looked at Dawn, not understanding her incredulous look. But before
either could say anything further, Cisco announced, "We're cleared for landing. Hang
on!"

Both Alex and Dawn did exactly that as the aircraft abruptly banked and began a long
slow curve. But just as they were becoming more or less comfortable with the new slant
on things, they also became intently aware of the mountains. Suddenly grassy and rocky
slopes were everywhere and on a level plane -- so to speak -- with themselves. In the
small plane, they could see all around them, and all around them were mountains.

Cisco then straightened out the airplane, but dead ahead (pardon the expression) was a
rocky mound directly in the flight path. At just the right moment, Cisco banked hard to
one side, and then almost immediately, banked the other way. He then leveled the
airplane just as the runway came into view. Within seconds the wheels of the airplane
touched down, and the plane begin to slow as it proceeded down the runway. Cisco was
already taxing to the terminal before Alex and Dawn dared to take their first breaths of
the last several minutes.

Dawn voiced their mutual question. "Do the commercial jets make that kind of
approach?"

"Oh yes," Cisco answered cheerfully. "They all have to miss the mountains. It can be
very exciting in the big jets. Very unusual." Then he added as an afterthought, "But as
a passenger in the big jets you can't see much. With Cisco, you get the full effect, you
see everything!"

Alex and Dawn could only laugh, albeit hysterically and self-consciously.



The next couple of hours were filled with Alex's agenda. From the airport, a taxi
(fortunately, a grounded, land-based one) took them to what the driver promised was a
nice hotel: small, intimate and very comfortable.

Amazingly enough, the hotel was as good as the taxi driver had promised. Only one
story high (a rarity in Cuzco with its proliferation of two and three story buildings);
white-stucco with deep red bricks and tiles everywhere to highlight the windows, doors,
and trim; and inside, very cool and comfortable. It was tastefully decorated with dark,
heavy wood beams, flowers in vases and growing in profusion in a small courtyard, and
archaeological-sophisticated paintings and statues.

Dawn was surprised and delighted, and felt her spirits rise at the promise of a pleasant
stay. As she enjoyed the cool, very pleasant lobby area, Alex went to get a room. Only
one room was available, and without a second thought, Alex checked them in as a
married couple. His rapid-fire logic had concluded that foreign countries, particularly
predominantly Catholic ones, were considerably less liberal and definitely not as
understanding about unmarried couples, particularly without luggage, staying in the
same room together. And it didn't seem the best time to have a demonstration of his
worst fears. Alex did, however, decide not to mention the arrangements to Dawn. He
also had to lie to the hotel clerk, when he handed over their passports (with the different
surnames), that they were newly married as well. This brought a mischievous smile to
the clerk's face, as he checked the passports, and set them aside with the rest of the
hotel check-in paperwork.

Standard operating procedure for all hotels in Peru included holding their guests'
passports during their stay. This had the nice feature of preventing guests from leaving
without paying their tab. It was also required by law, in that all passports were checked
by local police authorities, just on the off hand chance the passport bearer might be a
fugitive from the law. Alex was not aware of the latter, even though he understood
about the former. He also didn't know the same procedures were practiced in Mexico
City, but there, fortunately, the bureaucracy had let their passports be returned with only
a cursory glance. It was just one more example of their occasional blind luck.

The Fates are particularly enamored with "blind luck", finding it to be a marvelous
diversion, and very effective in accomplishing their various aims and plans. In this case
it allowed Dawn and Alex to leave for Teotihuacan with their passports, leaving only their
luggage with the hotel. Had the Mexico City bureaucracy been slightly more efficient,
Dawn and Alex would have been in serious trouble -- abroad in an only moderately
friendly country without a passport. The Peruvian bureaucracy, however, was
significantly more thorough and efficient, what with a revolution flailing about in its
countryside.

Meanwhile, Alex was unaware of the immediate itinerary of their passports, and was
instead more concerned with just how he would explain to Dawn about sharing a double
bed. It was something he particularly did not want to do while standing in the lobby.
Instead, he suggested they buy some new clothes, and perhaps a piece of luggage to
supplement Dawn's backpack. She was eager and enthusiastic about the prospects. And
after a mere three hours of shopping, Dawn felt amply supplied with all of the
necessities. Alex, meanwhile, had done his bit in less than an hour, and spent the
remaining time watching Dawn and trying to decide how to tell her about the sleeping
arrangements. He never did quite come up with a plan.

Back at the hotel, a few seconds after entering their room for the first time, Dawn
realized there was only one double bed. Alex, thinking she might overlook this fact,
suggested she stay and clean up while he ran one more errand. Dawn smiled, thinking a
shower would indeed be more than a wonderful event, and that from her viewpoint, the
bed was hers alone until Alex broached the subject.

Alex left and Dawn began the process of cleaning up her act. She began by very
carefully hiding her knapsack's hoard of gold in no less than three places. Alone for the
first time in a long time, Dawn felt suddenly very vulnerable. She disrobed, stuffed the
ripped dress in a wastebasket, laid out the favorite of her recent selections, and headed
for the showers. Every part of her body then got washed three separate times.

Dawn spent a good hour luxuriating in the hospitality of one of Cuzco's finest. After
Lima, it was a decided blessing. In Cuzco, there was plenty of water, the Andes forcing
every rain cloud which passed by to dump its cargo and precipitate upon the land.
Unfortunately, none of the water headed west toward Lima, and instead flowed into the
Urubamba, the river of Cuzco and Machu Picchu, or the Apurimac, further to the west of
the Urubamba. Both rivers then carried their waters to the mighty Amazon. (Incredibly,
the source of the Amazon, a river flowing east across the breadth of South America, was
less than one hundred miles from the continent's west coast.) Meanwhile, Lima received
almost none of the precipitation initiated by the Andes (roughly 1 to 2 inches annually)
while Cuzco received what relatively speaking was by far the lion's share of the bounty
(about 32 inches annually). By the time the source waters of the Apurimac finally
reached the Amazon, the ground was positively soggy with the rain of a rain forest.

At the end of an hour Dawn had transformed herself into a truly beautiful woman -- at
least in terms of the quick-to-judge external world -- and Alex had returned. Showing
more smarts than normal, he had remained in the lobby where Dawn found him. He
then headed for the room to clean up, still intent upon ducking the question of sleeping
arrangements, while Dawn checked out the amenities of the hotel. It took Alex less than
twenty minutes before he rejoined her in the lobby.

Dawn was impressed. "My goodness," she exclaimed as he set down at the small table
where she had been waiting. "You look quite human again. The Beast has been
transformed!"

Alex smiled at the compliment. "I feel better," he admitted. Then for the first time, he
took a good look at her. "And you are very definitely the Beauty."

"Why thank you, kind sir," Dawn replied.

"Of course, you always have been. It's hard to disguise such beauty, even with a torn
dress."
Dawn almost blushed. "Thank you very much." Then after a slight pause, "I'll have to
see that you get a shower more often. It does wonders for your gallantry."

Alex laughed. "It's hard to be a knight in shining armor, when the armor is rusty."
When Dawn smiled, he added, "We've missed the train to Machu Picchu. There's only one
a day, and it leaves early in the morning. That gives us the afternoon for other things.
If it's okay with you, there's a place I'd like to show you."

"By all means!" Dawn was more than eager.

Leaving the hotel, Alex acquired a taxi and headed for the market. There they grabbed
some food as a late lunch, and found a second taxi. As they got in the vehicle, Alex
said , "Sacsahuaman." But he pronounced it, "Sexy Woe-mann". The driver's face lit up
in a broad smile, as he glanced at Dawn and then shifted into gear. Dawn looked wide-
eyed at Alex, as if he had been commenting on his companion. When Alex didn't
immediately react, she asked, "Were you referring to me?"

Alex's face went bright red with embarrassment. "Oh no," he said. "Of course not. I
didn't mean you!" Then the alternative implication hit him. "I mean, I wouldn't say it
out loud." (Still not right.) "At least not to the taxi driver!" Then, rolling his eyes, he
gave up trying to explain, while Dawn thoroughly enjoyed his quandary. She smiled in
the delightful way women have of subtly relishing their obvious but generally unstated
superiority.



Nathan was also smiling, but in his own special devious manner. A small victory had
been won, a minor skirmish had left only one participant the temporary victor. Nathan
had sought a form of vengeance -- Nathan was very much into vengeance -- upon his
upstart, younger brother and the Fates had obliged with a small one-upmanship style
win.

"It appears, my dear brother," Nathan began, even as Kurt was walking into the room,
"That your success at locating your quarry has been less than spectacular."

"What do you know?" Kurt asked, not willing to commit to anything else.

"It appears your Dukas fellow and my errant Ms. Riordan have combined forces and are
now in your backyard; not mine. Running amuck, I dare say."

Kurt had no intention of allowing Nathan to wallow in whatever small victory he thought
he had attained. "At least," Kurt replied, "I have a backyard. You weren't even born
here."

Nathan dismissed the standard rebuttal, the pestering division between them which kept
cropping up. In Nathan's view, it was irrelevant. Instead, he continued raining on Kurt's
parade. "We now know the two of them flew from Mexico City to Lima, Peru."

"Mexico City?" Kurt replied. "What were they doing there? And what about Anna?
Wasn't she at Thalmacas?"

"Apparently, they slipped through her fingers. But that's not the reason she was there,
and thus I may be able to forgive her incompetence this particular time."

"You're entirely too generous with her," Kurt answered, mockingly. "You always have
been."
Nathan smiled defensively. "She is, after all, the beloved of our dear grandfather. Am I
to assume you would be much less generous with her foibles?"

Kurt knew when to ignore a question -- and when in doubt, to ask a question in return.
"What makes you think this new lead is not just another diversion?"

"The use of passports," Nathan answered. "They had to use passports to get on the
airplane in Mexico, and to pass through customs in Lima. We know they're in Peru!"

"Have you checked with the locals? If they're staying in a hotel..."

Nathan dismissed what he considered obvious with the wave of his hand. "They did stay
in a hotel in Mexico. That's what initially tipped us off. The difficulty was the passports
were returned before the incompetent fools realized these were the people we were
searching for."

"And in Lima?"

Nathan smiled. "I didn't want to infringe upon your territory," he replied, with enough
sarcasm to literally tear flesh. "That is left to you. I suggest you get on the horn and
then perhaps trouble yourself with a personal visit."

Kurt was not intimidated. "Rest assured my operatives will take care of things. They will
be notified immediately. Meanwhile, I have a date in Phoenix later today. Then, I will
return to my territory. By that time, I should be ready to present both of them to you on
a silver platter."

"Just their heads," Nathan replied. "That's all I care about."



Sacsahuaman was an ancient Incan fortress, with huge, zigzagging stone walls broken
into 66 sharply projecting angles, allowing defending spearmen to catch attackers in a
withering crossfire. The walls themselves are composed of huge, multifaceted stones,
assembled so carefully that a knife blade cannot be forced in between their joints. Many
of the stones weigh over 100 tons, and yet are elaborately fitted into interlocking
patterns. This functional as well as beautiful construction has survived centuries of
earthquakes, which have tumbled conventional masonry with impunity. The fortress may
have been built as early as the time period from 4000 to 2000 B.C.E., and is estimated to
have required 20,000 workers some 90 years to finish. These estimates are probably
wrong, based as they are wont to be, upon the assumption the people of the ancient
world had no real technological abilities.

Dawn found Sacsahuaman, the guardian of the Incan capital of Cuzco, enchanting.
Llama and Alpaca roamed the area in comparative freedom, while the stones themselves
lent an air of profound antiquity. Alex, meanwhile, was more intent upon other matters.
While he was able to let Dawn enjoy the sights for almost half an hour, his focus was
more on acquiring yet more data in his quest for The Mother.

Then, in the traditions of a synchronous, everything-is-connected universe, Alex spied an

old Indian woman. With minimal physical characteristics in common, the woman
nevertheless reminded Alex of Barb, his own version of the Old Woman. Accordingly,
with all the subtly of your average, arrogant American, he approached her. Dawn
watched the conversation, with Alex's display of eagerness and the Indian woman's
apparent lack of interest in anything the strange foreigner might have to say. Finally,
after Alex had made an "offering to the 'Great Lady'", the old Indian woman suggested
Alex visit Machu Picchu during the time "when the sun ceased its northward movement",
when the Mother would give audiences to some. Alex smiled at the confirmation,
realizing the Southern Hemisphere's Winter Solstice was the next day. Everything was
falling into place. Alex fairly beamed with delight

Watching the process, Dawn found herself intrigued and delighted at Alex's display of
emotions, as if his dreams and aspirations seemed to be coming true. His insights and
revelations seemed to be arriving in car-load lots, as if he had wished upon The Star, and
had all his wishes come true. It was, for Dawn, a delightful and very pleasant moment.

After a full afternoon, the two returned to the hotel. Once in their room, Alex went into
the bathroom. Dawn was still wondering when Alex was going to bring up the subject of
who slept where, when he came back into the bedroom. Her thoughts were quickly
interrupted as she saw his eyes. They suddenly seemed to be shining, as if a light was
behind them. She had noticed it in him before, in her dreams and at other times when
they had been together. But suddenly, their intensity had increased. But before she
could begin to understand what was going on, he suggested dinner. It seemed a good
excuse to avoid whatever subjects each was loath to talk about.

At dinner, Alex seemed very much at ease. He was uncharacteristically quiet, as if

listening to a set of earphones tuned to a distant radio station. Dawn watched him for a
time, her own thoughts running the gambit of the intricacies of Alex, their relationship,
and their situation. There were many questions she might have asked of him, but
suddenly she was feeling apprehensive, disconnected. There was no longer the sense
she'd experienced earlier of their being on the same wavelength together.

Alex stirred slightly, as he glanced over at Dawn. Seeing that she didn't even bother to
quit staring at him, he suddenly sensed her need for conversation. For no particular
reason, he began talking about history. "When the Spanish conquered the Incan
civilization," he began, "They did it primarily for gold. And they were successful beyond
their wildest dreams!"

For a moment, Alex watched the beautiful woman seem to hang on his every word.
Deciding this meant he could continue unabated, he smiled and forged ahead. "When
Pizarro sailed from Panama to Peru and began the conquest of the Incan Empire, he
kicked things off by ransoming an Incan King for 200,000 ounces of gold. The king was
killed anyway.

But then at Cuzco, Pizarro and his men found gold everywhere, including one hoard of
500,000 pounds of gold. One golden throne weighed 4,000 ounces. One stylized
'garden' had a field of maize where every stalk was made of silver and the ears of gold.
This amounted to 180,000 square feet of golden corn! For a period of 15 to 20 years,
the Spaniards extracted from Peru the equivalent of over 6 million ounces of gold and
over 20 million ounces of silver, annually -- a total of well over one hundred million
ounces of gold and three hundred million of silver!"

Alex smiled, as Dawn's eyes widened. "What is really astounding is that to this day, gold
seekers are still looking for El Dorado. Supposedly, the priests of the temple of
Pachacamac, located between Lima and Lurin, hid their gold from Pizarro. And this hoard
was thought to be the main treasure drove. This gold was never recovered, and many
think it still exists in that area. Can you imagine how much gold the El Dorado cache
might have amounted to?"

Dawn, still smiling, shook her head. "No. I really can't."

Alex laughed. "Even more incredible is that literally tons of gold were tossed into Lake
Titicaca by the natives in order to avoid letting the Spaniards have it. It turns out that
according to the Incas, the gold belonged to the gods. It was sacred and could not be
defamed by the Spaniards!"

"The same gods we talked about earlier." Dawn suddenly understood Alex's line of
thought.

"The very same," Alex said. "Sitchin thought the reason the Anunnaki came for the gold
was to use it in their space flight program or to seed it into their atmosphere for some
reason. I think they came in order to consume it, to have access to the ORME, the
mono-atomic elements."

"But the yellow gold, the metallic gold, is worthless for purposes of taking internally,"
Dawn quickly interjected. "If that's why the Anunnaki were here, to find the mono-
atomic precious elements, then the yellow gold would have had minimal value to them."

Alex smiled broadly. "Which may be why there was so much left behind. For the
Anunnaki, yellow gold is a waste byproduct. They just didn't make the distinction
between the forms of gold and the other precious elements to the local natives, the ones
doing the digging and mining."

Dawn almost laughed, leaning back in her chair. The food arrived at that moment, and
neither of them said anything as they were being served. Several looks were exchanged,
each with a smile, but for the moment they were quiet. Then as the waiter left them to
their meal, the more urgent activity was to eat. Their lunch had been adequate, but not
totally fulfilling. It was now time to chow down!



Everything went well for most of the meal. But Dawn's clumsy-clock was ticking. From
the Fates’ viewpoint, it had been far too long since one of Dawn's moments had
occurred. And having built up a certain amount of lead time, the act was committed with
uncommon grace and subtlety.

Alex began the process by picking up the multi-veggie hot sauce and adding some to the
remaining food on his plate, taking care to distribute the flavor in exactly the right
amounts. He then sat the container down between them, and managed to set it on the
business end of a small fork. This caused the other end of the fork to raise up, an
observation neither Dawn nor Alex made.

Dawn, enjoying thoroughly a recent mouthful, abruptly laid both arms on the table in a
gesture signifying her complete approval of what she was tasting. Her left arm, of
course, came down directly on the raised portion of the fork. The result was a
catapulting of the hot sauce in the direction of Alex. The hot sauce container ended up in
Alex's plate, upside down, but not before dumping most of its contents all over the plate
and a goodly portion on Alex's exposed shirt and lap. In the middle of a bite, he
stopped, feeling the sauce as it saturated his clothing.

For only a moment did he hesitate. Then with a surprised Dawn watching him, he
finished taking the bite he had on his fork, savored the taste and nourishment, and then
as if nothing had happened, begin to lean over and inspect Dawn's remaining food with
his fork. When he saw something he liked, he took a bite. Dawn watched the man as he
began to share her food. Deciding it appropriate under the circumstances, she shrugged
her acknowledgment, and began eating again. It was a bonding of sorts.

With the meal complete, the waiter arrived to remove the debris from the table, along
with both napkins which had been used to wipe off as much of Alex's shirt and lap as
demurely possible in the confines of the public dining room. The waiter's eyes had gone
wide, but with little command of the English language, he had no idea of what to say. Of
course, had he been an accomplished linguist, he probably would still have had little to
say. Dawn and Alex's calmness in the situation also served to convince him that if they
weren't concerned, there should be no reason for him to be.

As they relaxed, waiting for the check, their eyes met several times. It was as if they
understood one another. And for Dawn, it was even more: Alex had accepted her. It
was a simple acceptance of her exactly as she was. The feeling was far more than
simple. It was wonderful!

Abruptly, her slight smile vanished. Alex noticed her sudden change in expression
immediately and looked at her with concern. He said nothing, as he watched her go
inside her mind, struggling to identify some wisp of sensing. The check arrived at the
same moment, but both ignored it. Finally, a realization hit Dawn. To confirm it, she
looked past Alex and across the room. Through the small door opening in the dining
room, she could see the hotel lobby, where a large man was talking to the desk clerk. All
of Dawn's warning signals activated simultaneously. Even from the back, Dawn knew the
man -- in some fashion or another -- worked for Nathan Fox. He was dressed as if he
were a local, but even in white he was ominous.

Without a word she turned to Alex, her face hard and stern. Her dinner partner guessed
the implications immediately. She stood up without a word, while he signed the check
with his room number. Without looking back, she headed for the dining room's uni-sex
restroom. Alex followed her without hesitation. Once out of sight of the dining room
proper -- which was mercifully crowded with people and thus provided a fair cover -- Alex
finally turned to look back into the room. He saw a man in a white business suit standing
in the door between the dining room and lobby, as the man began to look around the
room. Alex then turned and opened the bathroom door, where he saw Dawn already on
her way out of the window. Alex followed her without a word. Once outside in the dark,
both of them stood there, their bodies shaking slightly and the adrenaline pumping. For
that moment neither said a word.

Finally, Dawn voiced the feeling. "How in the hell did they find us?"

Alex swallowed, suspecting a possible reason. But it wasn't a reason he was quite ready
to talk about. Instead he said, "I don't know. But we'd better find another place to stay
the night." When Dawn indicated her agreement, he added, "There seems to be
something of a festival in town tonight. So if we don't come back early to our hotel, no
one should be particularly suspicious."

"That's good," Dawn replied, completely in agreement.



Within an hour, the two had found a hotel of considerably less repute -- one which didn't
require passports or other identification; just cash up front. The room was notably less
pleasant, but considering the fact the male guest had hot sauce stains on his shirt and
pants, and the woman wore a dress recently ripped across the buttocks from a nail on a
bathroom window sill, the accommodations seemed quite appropriate. Once inside, they
both breathed somewhat easier.

Until Dawn remembered her backpack -- and the gold -- still at their beautiful room at
the nice hotel! She had left it there, thinking that going to dinner did not require it. Now
she was furious with herself. Hiding her feelings, she said, "Our luggage, my backpack,
our new clothes..."
"Don't worry," Alex quickly said. "We don't know someone is on to us. We're here in
order to avoid any chance encounters. We can always go back for the luggage later,
when we're least likely to be caught. Even after we've made the trip to Machu Picchu."

"Perhaps," Dawn replied. "But I really don't think it's going to be that simple. The vibes
I got from that man in the hotel were not good. He's not likely to be so easily eluded."

"Then we can just leave the luggage like we did in Mexico."

"No way," Dawn said, her teeth clinched. "I'm not leaving my backpack!"

"I'll get you a new one," Alex offered.

Dawn turned to him, uncompromisingly. "I don't want a new one," she said calmly and
with the suggestion of not taking no for an answer. "My money's in it. Everything is in
it!"

Alex tried to calm her. "I have enough money for now. Besides. I've wired home for
more. We should have it at the American Express office by tomorrow evening at the
latest."

Dawn's mouth dropped open as she turned to him. "What!? You wired home for
money!?"

Alex flinched at the accusation, even while admitting, "Yes. This afternoon."

Dawn then moved toward him, threateningly. "Did it occur to you someone might have
access to your wire? Someone who might want to track us? Someone sinister?"

Alex objected to the implied insult. "I'm not completely stupid. Sisi and I had a code set
up. I didn't use my real name. Give me some credit. Besides I left a fair amount of our
cash in the hotel safe in Mexico City, along with our luggage. I had to somehow
replenish our liquid assets!"

Dawn immediately calmed down, or at least she appeared to do so. Externally, her mind
was still racing. Internally, she was furious! It was more than the risk -- a lot more.
But then, controlling her anger, she said, in a low, steady voice "Wiring for money was
risky. It could alert any number of bad guys as to where we are. You will admit that,
won't you?"

Alex took a deep breath. He was not accustomed to dealing with Dawn in her current
state. And despite her outward steadiness, he could feel her anger all around him. He
could also feel the direction her anger was aimed! Quietly, he said, "Yes. It was a risk.
But one I thought justified."

"You thought justified," Dawn paraphrased. "What about me? What did I think? Did you
ask me? Did you confide in me that we were running out of money? Did you trust me
with such momentous news?" When Alex flinched at her questions, Dawn continued, her
tone indicating her true feelings. "I thought this was a partnership! I thought we were a
team!" Tears abruptly surfaced in her eyes, but she fought them back. "Am I totally
without resources? Did you even think to ask if I had any money?"

Alex looked at her, the idea new to him. "Did you? I mean do you have some cash?"

Dawn struggled for control. "In my backpack," she said between her teeth.
"Oh," the vanquished male replied. Then, as the true meaning of her words came
through, he added, "I'm sorry. I was wrong. I know that now. I should have told you."

Dawn was partially satisfied with the apology. Quietly, she replied, "Typical male
chauvinist. You think you have to take care of me, that you can't turn to me for help,
financially or otherwise!"

Alex flinched once again, recognizing the truth in her statement. Bleakly, he answered,
"You're probably right. My upbringing. Haven't quite escaped from its wrath yet."

The enraged female felt her anger withering away. She had never been able to stay
angry for very long. She always remembered the Buddhist analogy, being angry with
someone was like holding a red hot coal in your hand, waiting for the opportunity to
throw it at them. You always managed to burn your hand, and the odds were you would
miss when you threw it anyway.

For several moments, she let Alex suffer through the unbearable silence. Then, with just
a touch of female superiority, she said, "Being the macho male, you can gallantly sleep
on the floor, while I take the bed." With that she slung back the covers and begin
partially undressing and preparing for bed. Without looking at him, she added, "Feel free
to turn out the lights."

Alex, overwhelmed by the justified wrath of a strong woman, shrugged his shoulders and
walked over to the light switch. Without looking back at the woman who was giving him
her best accusing stare, he flipped the switch. In the ensuing darkness, with some light
still slipping through the shuttered windows and the crack beneath the door, he made his
way to a misnamed love seat couch and began trying to lie down in some semblance of
relaxation. In the dim light, Dawn threw one of the pillows at him. He thanked her and
began to try to make himself comfortable. It was a fairly hopeless exercise.



Dawn lasted for less than twenty minutes. Having lain wide awake since they "retired for
the evening," and listening all the while to his vain attempts to find a position on the
couch remotely resembling comfort, she finally relented. "I can't stand this," she
announced. "Come get into bed. I'll never sleep if I keep thinking about you on that
oversized chair!"

Alex felt the profound relief of knowing he might actually get some sleep now. Quietly,
he left the couch and gently crawled into bed, taking special care not to disturb the
covers he would be sharing with Dawn. They quickly fell asleep, a good twelve inches of
space between them. During the night the space between them dwindled to virtually
nothing, with both periodically touching the other person. But they were sufficiently
zonked out that neither really noticed.

Until morning, that is when Dawn felt the near intimate contact between their buttocks
and the occasional brushing of one foot against another's leg. Dawn awoke almost
instantaneously, fully aware. She knew she still had her bra and panties on, and it felt
very much like Alex had his shorts on. But still... They seemed -- physically speaking --
to be awfully close.

Quietly, she got up and headed for the bathroom. There she began dressing. The tear
across the bottom of her skirt, she managed to conceal by the simple expedient of hiking
up the skirt, so that the upper parts of her dress covered her midriff. At the same time,
the torn portion of the dress was concealed in carefully orchestrated folds around her
waist and her hemline was high enough to shock most of the natives. It would have to
do, she thought.
Then, in about as good a shape as she could hope considering the circumstances, she
went back into the bedroom. There she found Alex awake and sitting up in bed, still
rubbing the sleep from his eyes. For a moment he stretched with his arms straight up
and spread slightly. Then his near-naked condition (and Dawn's apparent appreciation of
it) reminded him of where he was. Sheepishly, he pulled the covers higher against his
body. Dawn smiled to herself, and sat down on the bed, facing away from him. Quietly
she said, "You might want to put some clothes on."

Alex self-consciously began the process, slipping on the pants and shirt which had ended
up on the floor beside the bed. He wrinkled his nose at the lingering smells on his shirt
and pants, but then shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the bed, facing away from
Dawn, in order to put on his shoes.

As he did so, Dawn said, "I've been thinking. We had to use our passports when we flew
from Mexico City to Lima. It wouldn't take a lot of brains to figure Cuzco might be our
ultimate destination." As if to make her real point, "It might not have been the wire that
put them on to us."

Alex smiled. "Thanks. I appreciate your attempt at reaffirming my fragile male ego.
And I agree with you. You may be right; they may have tracked us to Lima, and then
made the supposition we were on our way here. The fact of the matter is almost no one
spends anytime in Lima. It's only a jumping off point for making the trek to Cuzco." As
an afterthought, Alex added, "Of course, I suppose it could have been coincidence."

"I don't believe in coincidence," Dawn quickly retorted in a no-nonsense tone of voice.
Then easing back slightly, she changed the subject. "Too bad we didn't think to have
fake passports."

"We did think about it," Alex replied. "But we didn't have the time. We also aren’t that
well connected to international thieves, or governments for that matter. Although I
suppose they're one and the same." When Dawn only smiled, Alex stood up and said,
"We were in the process of getting some forgeries, but we just didn't have time to wait
around for them before you and I left Phoenix."

"We'll just have to be very cognizant of the fact," Dawn replied, bleakly.

Alex then sat down on the bed beside her. "Meanwhile," he began, "It's time for us to
get some new duds, and then catch a train!"

Dawn gave him her best smile. "At least now we know where to shop."

________________________________________

[1] Rebecca L. Cann, Mark Stoneking, and Allan C. Wilson, "Mitochondrial DNA and
human evolution", Nature, January 1, 1987. See also Scientific American, April 1992.

[2] R. L. Dorit, H. Akashi, and W. Gilbert , "Absence of Polymorphism at the ZFY Locus
on the Human Y Chromosome", Science, Vol. 268, May 26, 1995.

[3] Zecharia Sitchin, The 12th Planet, The Stairway to Heaven, The Wars of Gods and
Men, The Lost Realms, When Time Began, Genesis Revisited, Divine Encounters, Avon
Books, New York, 1976-1995.

[4] Laurence Gardner, Bloodline of the Holy Grail, Barnes & Noble, New York, 1996;
Genesis of the Grail Kings, Bantam Press, London, 1999; Lost Secrets of the Sacred Ark;
Amazing Revelations of the Incredible Power of Gold, Element Books, HarperCollins
Publishers, London, 2003.

[5] William Bramley, The Gods of Eden, Avon Books, 1993.

[6] Michael Green, "The Language of the Circle-Makers," Crop Circles -- Harbingers of
World Change, Alick Bartholomew, Editor, Gateway Books, Bath, England, 1991.
The High Priestess

Chapter Sixteen

Machu Picchu is about 60 miles, as the crow flies, from Cuzco. By rail, with the tracks
twisting along the canyons of the Urubamba River -- one of the wilder and more
turbulent rivers of South America -- the Lost City of the Incas is considerably further
away. Known to the world as Machu Picchu, the city was the last stronghold of the Incan
Empire. Its strength derived from the fact that the Conquistadors never found it.

The tourist train which connects Machu Picchu and Cuzco is one of the best maintained in
Peru. Nevertheless, what should have been a modest trip took a full three hours. But
only the tourists, whose attention was on their goal or their destination, seemed to care.
For the locals, more into the process or the journey itself, the train ride itself was the
treat.

Catching the train at the last minute, Dawn and Alex ended up, initially, in the poorer
accommodations, where the local Indians inevitably found themselves. Because the cost
for traveling third class was minimal, this ensured a large, boisterous crowd out on
holiday. Because Alex and Dawn had arrived too late to find a seat in better
accommodations, they found themselves in this compartment. Ironically, this may have
saved them scrutiny from anyone expecting them to ride first or second class.

At the same time, while an Indian would have been required to show their first or second
class ticket if they so much as wandered through the first and second class cars, two
Americans, even dressed in the latest fashions from the only shopkeeper in Cuzco willing
to open up early, could easily pass among the rich and tourist type. Which is what Alex
and Dawn decided to do. Standing up, Alex picked up Dawn's backpack purse, evidently
surprised. "This thing's a lot lighter than before," he observed. "What did you do?
Unload your cosmetics?"

Dawn quickly stuffed her feelings and joined Alex in his laugh. "Something like that."

A certain camaraderie established, the two began wandering about the train, moving
from car to car, and enjoying themselves as they periodically spent time in the open
space between railway cars. Alex even took one of the latter moments to become
positively nostalgic.

"I rode this train back from Machu Picchu many years ago. It was at night on the way
back to Cuzco. I would stand here between the cars and look up at the sky. There was
no smog, pollution or city lights to interfere with the view, and the elevation we were at
meant there was even less atmosphere between us and the stars!"

"How high are we?" Dawn asked.

"Cuzco is a little over eleven thousand feet above sea level, while Machu Picchu is about
8,500 feet, I think. So somewhere in that range, probably around 10,000 feet." When
Dawn seemed sufficiently impressed, Alex went on.

"What was particularly exciting was the fact I was looking at the Southern sky with a
whole new set of constellations. The Southern Cross, for example, is absolutely
spectacular. It's comprised of four of the brightest stars in the heavens, and really
stands out. It’s impossible to miss. In fact, the whole of the Southern skies are really
more impressive than the Northern skies. And on that night there was absolutely
nothing to interfere with my vision. I stood here between the railway cars for over an
hour, absolutely feasting on the view."

Dawn was enjoying Alex's display of emotion, "Maybe we'll have a chance on the way
back."

"Probably," Alex replied. "The train doesn't leave Machu Picchu until almost dark. They
like to let the tourists have as much time at the ruins as possible." Turning to the door
of the next car, he looked through the glass window, and for several moments just stood
there. Then, the tone of his voice notably tense, he said to Dawn, never taking his eyes
off his view of the interior of the next car, "There's a man in the next car. He's
wandering around the car, talking to people. Might be a little suspicious."

Dawn, immediately anxious, looked through the glass window as well. The man Alex was
concerned about was easily identified as there was only one person standing up in the
aisle talking to the other passengers. The man was heavy set, dark haired and had the
appearance of someone who needed to shave every three hours just to appear to have a
clean face. He was smiling -- as if being very congenial -- but Dawn didn't fully trust the
appearance. Then she noticed his dark, thick eyebrows virtually connected. Faintly she
recalled some old racist statement about never trusting someone whose eyebrows met.
But in this case, she abruptly realized, she was feeling no threatening vibes.

"I see who you're talking about, but I'm really not picking up anything."

Alex, his eyes never leaving the man, replied, "Stay here. I'll check it out."

Dawn grabbed his arm. "Do you think that's wise? Maybe it's you he's looking for!"

Alex turned to look at her. "Then, do you want to check him out?"

Dawn looked blank for several seconds. Then, blinking once, she replied, "No."

Alex turned back to look at the man. "Then I'll do it."

Dawn was slightly ticked. "Well that's certainly brilliant logic."

Alex tried to ignore her statement. "Cover me. I'm going in." He almost laughed at
himself.

"With what?" Dawn asked. "My arsenal is somewhere back on the slopes of Popo."

Alex took a deep breath, and said, "Then get ready to scream. If necessary." Before
Dawn could reply, he opened the door and began casually walking up the aisle toward
the suspicious man.

Dawn's intuitive sense went on full alert, as she tried to pick up on any early warning
signals. But all she could sense was the obvious: Alex approaching the man, the man
showing no apparent recognition of Alex, and the two talking for a spell. Then Alex
turned around and began to saunter back toward Dawn. Slowly a broad smile broke out
on his face. When he came through the railcar door, he was almost laughing. Dawn's
expression of concern slowly faded to one of pique.

"His name's Larry. Sells mobile home parts wholesale. Came all the way from Winter
Haven, Florida. He's here because his wife is a history nut, and always wanted to see the
ruins."

Dawn smiled slightly, but still had a question. "And what's so funny about that."

Alex laughed. "He told some joke about a man telling his girl the coast was clear, and
her replying that he must have awfully good eyesight, for the coast was over a 100 miles
from here."

Dawn joined Alex in his laugh, sensing the relevancy to their own situation.



At the base of Machu Picchu, they deboarded the train and went directly to a series of
buses. Taking the first one available, they settled down and watched the tourists file in,
including an ebullient Larry and his attractive wife. Larry boisterously acknowledged
seeing Alex again, and made a statement about the four of them getting together up on
the mountain. His wife, apparently, was going to be the best tour guide the ruins had
never seen. "She knows everything there is to know about this place!" Alex and Dawn
merely smiled their best polite smile.

The bus ride up to the ruins was something of an adventure in itself. The road is a series
of switchbacks, crisscrossing a direct ascent some fourteen times. There is, in fact, a
delightful result of this rather unique road. When tourist buses leave the top, a
youngster from the local area, waits at the middle of the first switchback, and when the
bus drives by, he screams as if he were falling off the mountain -- a long ahhhh, slowly
decreasing in volume. The young entrepreneur then runs directly down the mountain
and at each subsequent switchback as the bus passes by, he screams as if he were still
falling. With the bus proceeding down the mountain in its back and forth motion, the boy
is able to greet the bus on each and every switchback with his rendition of the falling off
the mountain scream. At the bottom the tourists get off the bus to find the boy sweating
profusely from his run and smiling from ear to ear. The tourists are so delighted by this
unique and totally unexpected event, they literally can't wait to stuff money into the
hands of the boy. It's a very lucrative fall for the kid. One suspects, however -- based
on the fact of several other young boys loitering around the area -- the honors of making
the run are carefully apportioned among the locals, and the monetary rewards are shared
in some equitable manner, i.e. the big boys get the most.

Alex and Dawn, unbeknownst to them, were to miss this entertaining event. Alex had
witnessed it on his last visit, but had decided not to mention it to Dawn -- letting her be
surprised. Which was nice of him. At the same time, however, he ended up being quite
surprised himself at their own unique return to Cuzco.

From the moment they got off of the bus, Dawn seemed to be in another world. As they
passed by the tourist hotel -- which she totally ignored -- and entered the main entrance
to the ruins through a heavy stone portal (the stones in the same tradition as those at
Sacsahuaman), Dawn was oblivious to everything. She began to smile, as she started to
walk the grounds. With virtually no hesitation, she crossed the elongated central open
area and proceeded directly to The Intihuatana -- traditionally referred to as the Sun
Observatory, and where the northern bound sun was harnessed with a rope at the winter
solstice and encouraged to return on a southern trek back to the land of the Incas.
There she went directly to the stone and let her hand caress the upright protrusion on
the strangely shaped rock.

Alex had followed her, feeling some need to watch over her in her present condition.
Then as she turned to him, he saw tears in her eyes. Instantly, he became concerned.

But Dawn was smiling. "It's wonderful! Like coming home again."

Alex was genuinely surprised. "You've been here before?"

Dawn laughed. "Not in this lifetime."

Her companion understood immediately. Almost simultaneously, the first of the tourists
began to reach the observatory. Alex recalled their mission. "I need to ask around for
The Mother."

"The room with three windows," Dawn said simply. With that she walked back into the
midst of the ruins and made her way directly to a small patio-like area where the
southern wall of massive stones encapsulated three virtually identical windows. The
windows appeared to be some four foot high and thirty inches wide, as well as eighteen
inches in depth. The construction was the smooth, undecorated stone Dawn and Alex
had seen at Sacsahuaman, and lent an atmosphere of immense solidarity. When they
arrived in the grassy area before the windows, no one else was there. Alex was
momentarily disappointed, but Dawn merely wanted to sit on one of the window sills and
look out to the magnificent view, the multi-terraced slopes and the greenery surrounding
the moss-covered white stones.

Before Alex could even ask, Dawn said, "You go ahead. I'll wait for you here."

Without a word, Alex accepted her decision, and left the Temple of the Three Windows,
trying to find someone with whom he could ask about the whereabouts of the Great
Lady. Dawn remained behind, relishing the feelings even without any specific memories.
Only the remembrance of having once been very happy in this locale. Maybe she had
been a princess here. Or a prince.



Another room far from Machu Picchu was quiet except for a middle-aged, brown-skinned
woman, with long coarse black hair tied into an indistinct knot on the top and back of her
head. In many respects, she was puttering about -- perhaps a little confused because of
the removal of almost all of the room's contents. She was also recalling a confusing,
brief earlier conversation, trying to understand if she had been told not to come back
here again. The language barrier had made things very unclear for her, and now even
the tools of her trade were missing.

She had wandered around in her state of confusion for perhaps twenty minutes, when
two doors on opposite sides of the room where flung open, and armed men came rushing
into the room. One saw her and immediately opened fire. Seven bullets quietly rammed
into her body at chest level and the woman was thrown back against the wall, where she
collapsed, dead before she hit the floor.

As the men moved through the adjacent rooms of the laboratory, their guns occasionally
making their presence acutely felt, Kurt looked down at the lifeless body of the woman.
When he didn't recognize the woman's face, he walked away uncaring, and began to
inspect the pieces of equipment on the laboratory bench. Most of the items he was well
acquainted with, but there was nothing in the rooms that wasn’t expendable. His men
began destroying the equipment, just in case.



Alex returned for Dawn within an hour. He was not looking pleased. When Dawn saw
him, she said, "Let's go further up the mountain. To the cemetery. I want to see the
ruins from there."

Alex accepted the obvious. "Might as well. I've talked to a dozen locals and all I'm
getting is stonewalling. Either they have no idea what I'm talking about, or they're
hiding something."

"I'm sure it's the latter," Dawn replied. "Now... Come with me."

Alex didn't seem to have any better, immediate plans and went along with Dawn. For
several minutes they climbed up high stone steps, moving continually up the mountain
known as Machu Picchu. Eventually, as they reached the upper edge of the ruins, Dawn
turned and set down on the steps. The view was classic. Along the left side of the
saddle ridge were steep terraces covered in greenery, then the Sun Observatory and the
open grassy area just beyond it. Slightly to the right were the main ruins, a seeming
labyrinth of head-high walls and terraces. Further right and lower were additional ruins
along with the main entrance to the city. Directly ahead was the mountain peak of
Huayna Picchu -- Huayna being "the little one" in the native language. Beyond were
ranges of green-covered mountains and a sea of clouds just behind the multiplicity of
steep peaks.

Interestingly, by far the most famous views of Machu Picchu show the ruins on the
saddleback between two mountains, but instead of showing the mountain, Machu Picchu,
they show the smaller mountain Huayna Picchu, a very steep, green-covered, rocky peak
-- with just the hint of ruins near its top. The mountain for which the Lost City of the
Incas was named is, in fact, the vantage point from where the pictures are invariably
taken. Its peak is much further up, nearly a mile from the uppermost point of the city
itself. The connecting ground between the two peaks then provides the cradle for the
city, while below on three sides, the Urubamba River takes a horseshoe route around the
extremely steep-sloped mountains and thereafter delivers its waters to the Ucayali River
and thence to the Amazon.

The Lost City was designed so that anyone in the canyons below would never perceive
what lay on the top of the mountain. The original access was along a torturous, secret
Incan path, around one side of the mountain, Machu Picchu, and alongside sheer cliffs
towering thousands of feet above the canyon floors. The success of this design is
evidenced by the fact the Spanish conquerors never found the City, despite the clues and
tales of major gold hoards in its care. The city was, in fact, lost until 1911 when Hiram
Bingham Powell, with the help of locals who had been to the ruins, found the city for
modern man.

For some time, Alex and Dawn marveled at the majestic sight of an ancient city,
precisely placed on top of an almost inaccessible mountain. Then Dawn stirred, as if
some deeply felt memory had demanded her attention. "We have to climb Huayna
Picchu," she stated in very firm words. With that she stood up and began retracing their
paths down the broad, steep steps to the main ruins.

Quickly they passed through the ruins themselves, and found a small, well-used path
along a tiny ridge connecting the city with the sheer, rocky peak. The path led up the
peak, switch backing back and forth. It was a standard path for tourists, and a single
strand of wire ran alongside the path, allowing those travelers without mountain climbing
experience to find some comfort as they struggled toward the top. The path, as such,
was extremely steep, even in its winding back and forth along the city side of the peak.
Both Alex and Dawn had to stop to catch their breath more than once. Like maybe forty
times. In some cases, Dawn felt a strong urge to forget the whole thing and turn back.
It was almost like a sudden panic, one with no apparent reason. She had a fear of
heights, yes. But this was not like scaling a sheer cliff. Several times, she had to force
herself to go on, to keep up with Alex, the man she had insisted climb the peak with her.

Finally they came into the first small terraces, and then into the peak area. Dawn
immediately went pale, a fact of which Alex was initially unaware as he tried once again
to get his breath. Abruptly, she went to her knees next to where he had decided to sit
down, grabbing his upper arm with a firm, if not desperate, hand. Alex was shocked to
have her grab him, but had just enough sense to realize it was a grab for support more
than anything else. For several moments, she looked out into the space below them, the
vacant air which connected them to the river far below.

Then she began to speak. "It's as if I were here but yesterday. I was a young prince,
maybe ten years old. But one who stood in someone else's way. Two men had me by
the arms, hurting me. Then they simply threw me off the terrace, and I fell. A very long
way." Abruptly, she shuddered, and Alex reached up to steady her. Sweat began to
appear profusely on her face, while her color momentarily departed. Then she swallowed
hard and managed to say, "It was so real!"

For awhile, the two of them sat there -- Dawn holding on to Alex with desperation, and
Alex holding her with a firm but gentle arm. Slowly, Dawn's thought returned to the
present. Her expression became one of “I’m okay now”, as she looked at Alex. She then
realized how tightly she was holding his arm. Quickly letting go, she said, "I'm sorry. I
didn't mean to hold so tight."

"No matter," Alex replied. "I have another." He smiled with delight. He had long
wanted to use that famous line from Shakespeare. Now he fairly beamed, his fond
dream finally realized.

Dawn didn't fully appreciate Alex's sense of gratitude to her for allowing him to use the
famous reply, but was thankful for the use of the arm. "Thanks," she said gently. "It
was a nice arm."

Alex couldn't top Shakespeare, so he just smiled.

For another half-hour they sat there, entranced by the view, making small talk. Then
they noticed the other tourists on the mountain making noises about getting back in time
to take the bus down to the train. As they began to filter down the steep path, Alex
frowned slightly. He didn't want to leave. His business wasn't complete. Then he looked
down at the tourist hotel, where the buses were parked. The Huayna Picchu, after all,
was, among other things, an excellent watchtower in which to observe the city and all of
its access routes, both ancient and modern. Then he made a decision.

"I think we should stay the night here."

"You think we can get reservations?" Dawn asked.

Alex was adamant. "We'll sleep out in the open if necessary. We can't leave. Not yet!"

Dawn looked at him for a second, could think of no rebuttal, and silently acquiesced. The
result was the two continuing to sit where they were, while the other tourists continued
their trek down the peak of "the little one". A slightly cool breeze found them, and
removed the last vestiges of perspiration, yielding even a slight coolness on their skin.
Then they stood up, absent mindedly brushing off their clothes. They turned, thinking to
head back down the path, when they saw the woman watching them. She had stood up
when they did, making them aware of her for the first time. And with what a presence!
The woman was, let us say, substantial! Not overweight. Just big. And she carried her
two hundred or so pounds with immense authority.

Dawn momentarily panicked, thinking about the possibility of a repeat, no-frills flight off
the top of Huayna Picchu. She reached again for Alex's arm -- but with considerably less
effect in cutting off the blood supply to his lower arm and hand. As the well-muscled
woman approached them as if she owned the place, Dawn strongly suspected Alex's
ability to protect her would occur more likely from his intelligence and ability to talk
himself out of a situation than from his brawn.

Alex, on the other hand, unaware of Dawn's analysis of strength and/or fighting skills
between him and the woman walking up to them, was less intimidated and more
demanding of why this woman was approaching them. But before he could speak, the
woman smiled.

"My name is Iris," she said simply. "The Mother will greet you now."



The trip down Huayna Picchu was panic free for Dawn, the unspoken expectations
providing little room for other, more mundane thoughts. The woman led them back to
the Temple of the Three Windows, where several women clustered about just outside.
Further back stood several men, like guardians, ready to rush to the aid of someone,
should the need arise. Everyone was quiet and passive, as if meditating with their eyes
open. Most seem to hardly take notice of Dawn and Alex.

Iris bid Alex and Dawn to sit down on the grass, and then she stepped quietly into the
Temple. After a few moments, she came back out and motioned for Dawn and Alex to
join her.

As they entered the Temple, Dawn saw a very old woman, with flowing white hair and
dark, heavily tanned skin, sitting with her back against the stone walls between two of
the windows. She sat on a deep purple covering, brightened by the late afternoon sun
beaming down across the roofless ruin. Dawn was immediately struck by the woman.
The Mother had obviously been a very beautiful young woman in her prime -- even if her
prime was about the time of Moses. She had the same ancient quality Dawn remembered
from Nathan -- a sense of having seen far too many sunsets.

As they stepped toward her, Dawn had the urge to fall on her knees -- not so much in
homage, but to put herself on eye level with the Mother. But for the moment, she held
off. Then she saw their guide, Iris, drop down on her knees, facing perpendicular to both
The Mother and where Alex and Dawn faced her. But there was no bow; only the
simplicity of sitting on one's heels.

Dawn immediately dropped to her knees as well, facing The Mother. Alex watched his
companion drop down, but remain upright. With a slight hesitation, he joined her.

For several long seconds, Dawn looked at the woman, the ultimate personification of The
High Priestess: Serene, devout, and spiritual, with undoubtedly the extra quality of being
psychic. There was the sense of uncertainty, hidden forces, and a host of factors
concealed from view. But somehow, Dawn realized, there was also the awareness of
secret, fortuitous changes forthcoming. This realization prompted a deep sigh in Dawn
as she smiled contentedly at The Mother.
Then The Mother opened her eyes, and smiled in an incredibly gentle way. "Welcome my
children," she said. "You've come a long way."

Alex glanced at Dawn, thinking she might be better to speak first. When Dawn only
smiled, luxuriating in the old woman's presence, he began, "We're looking for someone."

"And you've found her," the white-haired lady replied. "And at a very appropriate time.
Just when the pendulum begins its swing back toward the center. Auspicious, wouldn't
you say?"

Alex smiled, as his eyes deflected down. "Very."

The Mother smiled in return, and asked, "And your question?"

Dawn, without thinking, blurted out, "What is your name?"

The old woman laughed. "You've come such a long way just to ask my name?"

Alex was suddenly agitated, as if Dawn had just used up one of his three wishes. But
Dawn was blasé. First things first, she decided in her mind. "I just want to know you,"
she finally said.

"But you already do," the Mother replied. "I was there when you were first threatened
with extinction. But I did nothing. I said then 'I shall not forget... I shall be mindful of
those days, forgetting them never.'" For a moment, the old woman's resolve was
evident. "And I have not forgotten them. Others have shown little pity for your plight,
but they have never fully had their way. They have never been allowed such carte
blanche.

"Your father and I -- your true father, not the one who claims the honor -- have always
been there for you. And we have not been without success in our efforts. We were able,
among other things, to obtain a growing space for you, a space of years in which you
could come unto your own. We have provided you teachers -- at least for those who
cared to listen and who had the wisdom to ignore those who would misinterpret their
teachings." For a moment, the emotion in the old woman flared. But just for a brief
moment, as she again began to smile. "But that time is coming to an end. It is the
beginning of the end, when you may choose better things for yourself."

Suddenly, she laughed. "Your father and I never imagined your potential when we first
began. It's been quite a surprise." Then, after a brief, smiling pause, "A delightful one, I
might add."

In the momentary pause, Alex decided to get to the point. Or at least, his point. "Can
you tell me about the Golden Tear from the Eye of Horus? How to consume it? The
method of properly swallowing 'the teacher of righteousness'?" His intensity was obvious
to all of the women.

There was a momentary silence of surprise, before the Mother laughed and answered,
"Ah yes. The very focused one!" In a wonderfully gentle fashion, she added, "You
remind me of a grandniece of mine; someone who put aside all of the distractions in her
focused quest for the Me."

Alex blushed slightly, while Dawn turned to join the old woman in smiling at him. Taking
a deep breath, he replied, with appropriate modesty, "I didn't want to take too much of
your time..."
This unaccountably made the Mother laugh even more than before. Rolling back with a
genuine belly laugh, her arms swung around to hug herself. Everyone else smiled as
well, with Iris laughing out loud herself. Alex grimaced in a nice way, not real sure what
to say next. The Mother then relieved him of the burden. "Oh, I have plenty of time!"
Then, with an added emphasis, "Especially for someone as delightful as you." When Alex
merely blushed, she added, "I like you." For a moment she just looked at him, letting
the words say it all.

Dawn followed the old woman's eyes in the direction of Alex, and added her own smile,
silently suggesting she agreed completely. Alex shrugged his shoulders, as if
unaccustomed to such blatant compliments. He couldn't quite manage a thank you.
Instead, he asked, "Enough to tell me..." His voice trailed off, no longer containing the
focused energy to follow through. He suddenly felt uncomfortable.

The Mother smiled at him, with the eyes of complete forgiveness for any possible
breech. Then her expression became more somber. With a tone of sympathy, she
replied, "I once told that secret to a man, a son of mine. And in return, I received much
grief."

Alex said nothing in return -- not knowing what to say! Dawn, glancing at him and then
deciding he would remain silent, directed her eyes back to The Mother. Quietly, as if
pointing out the obvious, she said, "When it comes to one's children, there is always
grief." It was a truth Dawn knew all too well.

The Mother turned to Dawn, her face bright and gentle. "Yes. But it was not my son
who caused the grief." Then, turning back to Alex, she said, "This time, it is not my
decision. You must go to the source." Taking special care to look into his eyes, she
added, her voice precise, "But before that, you must go to Axum, where the words still
exist, even with the absence of their container. Then to Sheba's tomb and Marduk's
prison. Then you will know where to find the one to answer your question."

Alex's mind was running rampant; as he glanced down to consolidate what he had just
heard. The three clues were instantly analyzed, a solution was forged, and within
seconds, he was smiling at the understanding he reached. Then he looked up again, at
the old woman, one last question on his mind. "There are those who would prevent us
by any means..."

The Mother's hand went up immediately to stop Alex from continuing. Quietly, she said,
"They do not have the power you think. Not yet. Your father and I have them at bay for
now. Do not concern yourself. Simply seek out the truth without delay."

Alex smiled slightly, but was not yet satisfied. "There is also a group called the
Humanki."

"When the time is right," the Mother interrupted, "They will reveal themselves to you."

For several moments, Alex remained quiet. He continued to look into the old woman's
eyes, as every sense available to him seemed to confirm he had all he needed. Then he
smiled and said, "Then, we are complete?" Only the barest notion of a question lingered
in his voice.

"Not quite," she replied. With carefully chosen words The Mother added, "There are
others about, some friends playing the role of enemies, some enemies still very much
enemies. Even now, there are those wandering these grounds you will not want to
meet. Iris will show you the old way."
Alex and Dawn, both startled by the revelation, started to say something, but The Mother
held up her hand. "It is time for you to go. We are, indeed, now complete. At least, for
this time."

Alex and Dawn both stood up, slightly energized out of the almost meditative state they
had been in, and turned to leave. Abruptly, Dawn turned back, and fell on her knees
before The Mother, her head slightly bent. Plaintively, she asked, "Could you bless me,
Mother, before I leave?"

"Don't be silly," the old woman replied. "You're already blessed. Always have been!
Now get out of here." When Dawn only slowly got back to her feet, The Mother looked
slightly exasperated and said, "Oh all right. You're blessed! Now, hit the road! Okay?"

Dawn smiled with the biggest smile she could remember. "Okay," she answered.
Suddenly an old thought occurred to her. "Oh, I almost forgot. Nanau gave us a
message for you. He said, 'The frying pan is once again becoming quite warm.'"

The Mother laughed out loud. Then with a bit more control said, "Nanau has always had
the talent for massive understatement." With a wave of her hand she indicated they
were to leave.

Dawn smiled and turned to join Alex, just as Iris led them out of the sacred space,
almost immediately breaking into a fast walk. No one said anything while they quickly
made themselves scarce, and Iris took a private route through the ruins.

At the top of the stairs to the cemetery, where Alex and Dawn had viewed the panorama
of the ruins earlier in the day, Iris stopped and turned to them. Pointing ahead, she said,
"Follow this trail. It will lead you to safety. It is the old Inca flight route." Alex and
Dawn looked up the trail as it approached the mountain top of Machu Picchu and then
around to the right side. As they did so, Iris added, "You have less than two hours of
light left. It is necessary you reach the wooded area on the other side of the mountain
before you stop to rest. There you can conceal yourself." Handing Dawn a small vial,
she added, "At the first bridge, dump the contents of this on the trail. Now go!" Then
she handed Alex a small, native bag -- one designed to be slung over the shoulders and
attached to one's belt.

Dawn took the vial as Alex accepted the shoulder pack, and with his arm, urged Dawn to
go before him. His leader, however, turned instead to Iris, gave her an emotional hug
and a heartfelt 'thank you', and then turned and began to run lightly up the path. Alex,
taking his cue from Dawn, added his own 'thank you' and an arm momentarily grasping
Iris' shoulder. Then he too turned and trotted after Dawn.

Alex had intended Dawn to go first, thinking he could match her pace whereas she might
not be able to match his and thus he would be forced to be constantly looking back to
check on her. He quickly realized, however, he would be pushed to keep up with her.
His mind began to alternate between being pleased she was able to move at a fast pace,
and silently hoping she would be unable to keep up the pace and he would be able to
ease up on his own aerobic workout. Alex was in fairly good shape, but he was quickly
beginning to suspect Dawn was in better shape. And inasmuch as the incline varied from
slight to moderate, and the elevation was still above 8,000 feet, there wasn't a lot of air
to fuel their energy requirements. This was not going to be a romp in the park.

Finally they reached a high point, just before the trail angled down off an intervening
ridge and began to weave off to the right and skirt the rocky peak of Machu Picchu.
Dawn stopped, breathing hard, and looked back at Alex. He came up to her, breathing
even harder -- and with a newly found, very healthy respect for her physical abilities.
With her eyes she gestured back along the trail. Alex turned and saw, just above the
cemetery where Iris had left them, four khaki colored figures moving in their direction.

He squinted slightly, trying to make out details, but the figures were still some distance
away. Then Alex managed to recognize two noteworthy items: The four men were
wearing what appeared to be military-style caps, the kind with dark bills and khaki
covers. There was also at least one dog running alongside. "Federales," he conjectured.
"Just what we need."

"We've been so out in the open thus far... They could have seen us for miles."

"But for right now," Alex replied, "They're too far away to bother us."

Dawn smiled bleakly. "We just have to keep moving!"

"Exactly," he replied, turning back to her. "So let's quit talking."

Dawn smiled at him, realizing they were both still reaching hard for breathing space.
Kidding, she asked, "You keeping up with me okay?"

Alex gave her a major league frown, staring at her. Dawn laughed, turned and began to
jog down the slight decline toward the next incline of the path. Alex, bound and
determined to uphold the honor of all males everywhere, took off after her. When the
path turned again and sloped upward again, they both slowed and Dawn began again to
establish what was, hopefully, a sustainable pace.

The pace worked for several minutes, until the path rounded a bend and the ground on
one side fell into oblivion. Dawn's immediate reaction was to stop, and say, "Oh shit!"

Fortunately, Alex was far enough behind he did not run into her back. Instead, he drew
up behind her in a controlled fashion, and then seeing what lay ahead, said, "Double
shit!"

Ahead of them and infinitesimally to the left was a sheer rock cliff, rugged, and with only
the slightest break in its monolithic nature. Two feet to the right of it was a sheer drop-
off, falling what appeared to me several miles to the greenery of the canyon floor below.
In between was a poorly maintained path that had been built by stonework from a lower
baseline. The path extended for as far as the eye could see (just around a slight bulge in
the stone cliff ahead), and over a small wooden and mud covered bridge. Along the trail
in front of them, there was not the slightest hint of a handrail or an indication of where
the trail left off and oblivion began. This was not a tourist route.

Alex, still breathing hard, suggested, "I suggest we take 60 seconds to allow our
breathing to catch up with us, and our muscles to stretch out. We don't want a muscle
spasm or a sudden dizziness while we're moving along the rock face."

"Good idea," Dawn concurred. "Bad place to trip or blank out."

Sixty seconds is not a long time, but it's amazing the amount of recovery that is possible
in such a short period. A sixty second break in any number of endeavors is often worth
its weight in gold. (But not necessarily the weight of Rhodium which sells for about eight
times as much as gold.) Sixty seconds is also more than long enough for the pursued to
begin to feel antsy and ready to move. In fact, it was a mere 48 seconds before Dawn
declared the cease-march over, and began to walk very determinedly along the path.
Her pace was respectable, but considerably slower than before. Alex kept up, taking
station ten feet behind her. It was also not a time to jostle one another.
The path was as wide as an old residential sidewalk, but infinitely more precarious.
People walking on such a sidewalk almost never worry about falling off the sidewalk, and
in fact, almost never inadvertently step off of the concrete path. But a strange aspect of
life is such that a concrete path where one edge drops off into an abyss, is never walked
upon without trepidation. The chances of falling off are very slim, but the consequences
are dire in the extreme.

When they reached the bridge, they found a combination of four long tree trunks, the
exposed edges whitened from the sun and stripped of bark, along with cross planks held
in place with hand-packed mud and dirt. It appeared fairly stable, until those moments
when one encountered foot-sized holes in the surface and a great deal of sky just below.
Dawn concentrated on breathing as she stepped lightly across. When she made it to the
other side, she walked another five steps, stopped, turned and braced herself against the
rock face. Then she smiled encouragingly, and waited for Alex to make the crossing.

When he made it across as well, she smiled again, and handed him the vial Iris had given
them. Taking the vial, he turned slowly and knelt by the end of the bridge. There he
poured the contents on its near edge. Using his finger, he took a small sample and
smelled it. "Pepper," he said quietly. Then he looked at the bridge. "What would
happen if we destroyed the bridge?"

"We'd reap some very heavy karma," Dawn answered.

Alex seemed to agree. "One of us would probably fall off in the process anyway." But
then he reached down, drew some lines in the dirt, and then brushed them slightly to
obscure them.

"Some kind of weird curse?"

"No. But someone might think we've rigged the bridge and hesitate before crossing."

Then he rose slowly (a sensible precaution when standing on the edge of oblivion), and
turned back to her. Smiling, he added, "On the other hand, if you just happened to have
one of your maladroit moments..."

Dawn frowned. "My moments are not something I have control of. I would think that
would be obvious!" Without waiting for a reply, she turned and began walking again,
concentrating on keeping her balance. She did hear Alex's 'sorry', but was otherwise
focused on the immediate goals: keep moving, and move always in the roughly
horizontal direction -- more importantly, avoid the rapid vertical movement.

Twice the trail widened out while crossing a less ominous slope, but each time it quickly
slipped back against some rock face of varying degrees of scariness. Each time, before
tackling the next challenge, they would stop for their sixty second recovery period. On
the third narrow trail section, they thought they heard the sound of a dog, wailing at the
moon. But they couldn't be sure.

Finally, they came to a portion of the trail, where it began to climb steeply. The trail still
crossed a slope at an angle, but the slope was enormously less threatening. It was just
much more tiring. Then as the sun began to reach the horizon and the coolness of the
coming evening made itself known, the two apparent fugitives came to a wooded area.
As they both rested and took another chance to breath -- still twenty feet from the edge
of the woods -- Dawn looked at Alex and asked, "Who was The Mother?"

Surprised by the question, Alex looked up at her. Then reflecting for just a moment,
"She's either the original Ninki, thinks she is, or is her reincarnation."
"How can she be the original Ninki? The Mother of man was doing her genetic
experiment to cross breed mankind from Home erectus... What? A quarter of a million
years ago?"

"Thereabouts," Alex said. "Two hundred and fifty to four hundred thousand years ago."

"Then how can the woman we just met, be the original Ninki, the so-called goddess?"

"You mean, the Mother of Mankind, who millennia ago, taught man how to use the gold,
how to prepare what was known to the Melchizedek priesthood as 'the teacher of
righteousness'?"

"Whatever," Dawn replied. "The one doing her thing hundreds of thousands of years
ago!"

Alex hesitated. "You're making an assumption that the Anunnaki have the same life
span as we do. That's really not a valid postulate." When Dawn seemed bewildered, he
added, "Remember, the first men, from Adam to Noah, had a life span of more than nine
hundred years. The sole exception was Enoch, who left the planet at the youthful age of
365. But his was a special case. He didn't die. 'God' just took him." Alex took another
long breath. "Plus which, based on one small phrase in the Book of Genesis, Adam and
the others may have had life spans one hundred and twenty times as long as those
recorded in the Bible. At the same time, the Anunnaki may live as long as a half million
years!

"Now. Doesn't it make sense that if you cross-bred a very long lived species such as the
Anunnaki, with a short lived species such as Homo erectus, that the result will be
something in between? And as the genes become more and more diluted, or the
offspring don't eat right, perhaps the extremely long lives of the Adam's Family
becomes progressively diminished. Eventually, humans have lifetimes of less than one
hundred years. Slaves seldom live as long as their masters."

"That's absolutely incredible!" Dawn replied.

"Any crazier than what you've already encountered thus far?" When Dawn could only
smile and shake her head, Alex added, "There is, of course, another possibility. Are you
familiar with the way the Dalai Lama is chosen?" When Dawn shook her head no, Alex
replied, "The assumption is that the Dalai Lama is the reincarnation of all the previous
Dalai Lamas. When one dies, it is assumed he reincarnates within a few years, and the
high Lamas go on an immediate quest to find him. In the case of the present Dalai
Lama, he was found in Western China. Only about three years old at the time, he was
quickly put to a series of tests, where among other things he correctly identified the
leader of the search team -- who, incidentally, was dressed as a servant. The three year
old also took a necklace from around the Lama's neck and put it on himself. It turned
out that the necklace had been worn by the previous Dalai Lama."

"Yes," Dawn replied. "Now that I think of it, I seem to recall the story."

"The key, of course, is a belief in reincarnation, and the idea of each soul suffering
amnesia from its previous life. In the Dalai Lama's case, an individual who may be
distinctly more spiritually advanced, his amnesia is not so complete." Alex paused for a
second. "If on the other hand, a species such as the Anunnaki were sufficiently
spiritually aware -- i. e. were thoroughly cognizant with the Tree of Life and the Tree of
Knowledge of Good and Evil -- that they didn't lose their memories between incarnations,
then it would simply be the case of a soul proceeding from one physical body to another
without any loss of consciousness. And if this was generally accepted by the race, each
soul would continue from body to body with the same name, status, and conceivably
whatever property they had accumulated. There are even some Druid traditions which
suggest the same continuation of property ownership and liabilities."

Dawn seemed to understand. "So Ninki, for example, might be a long-lived woman, who
at the same time, is the reincarnation of herself over many lifetimes in different physical
bodies."

"Exactly," Alex confirmed. "Her soul, her personality, however you want to think of it,
continued from lifetime to lifetime, while her physical bodies were no more important
than the personal automobiles we purchase and sell, switching models with only the
slightest degree of concern as to what happened to the last one we owned."

Dawn laughed. "I'm trying to imagine a soul between lifetimes shopping for a new
body."

Alex shared her laugh, but the rest period over, he said, "I think we should go as far as
we can while there’s still light. Then get off the trail and find a place of cover for the
night."

"Good plan," Dawn said, between breaths, while her mind tried to evaluate Alex's latest
in a series of wild theories. But then she shelved the thoughts for the time being. It was
time to execute Alex's plan to forge ahead and find cover with the first moments of
darkness.
The Devil

Chapter Seventeen

There's an old saying: The best laid plans... Once Dawn and Alex had managed to walk
twenty feet into the cover of the stunted woods, two men with the classic look of road
bandits suddenly appeared in their path. On cue, four others popped up on either side
and behind them on the path. It was a moderately inept ambush, but considering the
prey, more than adequate. It certainly impressed Dawn and Alex, who were totally
surprised -- their hands going up in the traditional, knee-jerk reaction of people suddenly
caught with guns pointed at them.

Bandit #1 smiled underneath the black scarf across every part of his face other than his
eyes, and said, in his best mocking fashion, "So! Rich Americans, no doubt!"

"But poorly prepared," Bandit #2 observed. Sarcastically, he asked, "Are you lost?" At
the same time, he kept his rifle carefully pointed at Alex's midsection.

Dawn had the sudden thought they had just encountered members of the Shining Path,
the notorious, and some say, Communist, rebels of the Peruvian highlands. Alex had the
same thought, but thinking fast, said, "The Federales are after us." Dawn turned slightly
to glance at him, and thinking about it, decided it was a clever ploy. Unless, of course,
the six armed desperadoes were law-abiding citizens who would be delighted to turn in
fugitives for the reward money.

But then she felt their reaction, particularly the men behind her, who were suddenly very
defensive about who might be coming up the trail behind them. "Federales?" Bandit #2
replied, his tone showing considerably more respect for Dawn and Alex than before. But
then he caught himself. "What did you do?" he asked, returning to the sarcastic tone.
"Forget to tip the waiter?"

Alex was momentarily at a loss as to how to answer, but Dawn picked up on it

immediately. "Oh, we're innocent. But they're still trying to kill us. We think they're
being paid by our enemies."

Bandit #1 laughed cynically. "The Federales are always being paid by someone." Taking
charge, he gestured to the other bandits behind Alex and Dawn, adding verbally, only
"Pronto!"

Three of the men took off moving very rapidly down the path, where they were joined by
two others who had been hiding at the edge of the woods. Alex watched the five
scurrying down the path, until they reached the edge of the rock ledge path. There they
took up positions, ready to ambush anyone moving along the trail. The early twilight
provided light to see, with the last rays of sunlight now evident only on the upper peaks.
But the light was quickly fading.
Bandit #1 turned his attention to Alex and Dawn. "Sit down and be very quiet. We will
wait here for the Federales. If they appear on the trail, we will take care of them. But if
there are no Federales," his voice turning deadly, "I suggest you make peace with your
god -- if you have one."

Alex and Dawn sat down slowly, both suddenly worried that the pepper might have
discouraged their pursuers. Bandit #2 quickly tied their hands behind their backs, but in
something of a gallant fashion, did not tie Dawn's hands as tightly. Formerly a man of
the world (he had spent some time as a gigolo), he knew how easily ladies from the
United States bruised. Alex, oblivious to the unspoken gallantry, began plotting various
ways of escaping the local firing squad, while Dawn, less distracted by too-tight bindings,
went inside her mind to find what she hoped would be divine inspiration on what to do
next.

Her immediate sense was one of calmness, a reassurance from someone Dawn could
totally trust. There was an initial feeling of relief, followed by a picture of The Devil with
horns and dressed in a business suit. A man and woman stood before the terrorizer with
chains about their necks which tied them to the evil looking one. But instead of despair,
Dawn knew it was a matter of encountering her personal fears, her apparent bondage
not based on any reality. For in her mind's eye she could see that the chains about the
man and woman’s neck could easily be slipped off their heads, if only by putting the fear
aside. Outwardly smiling, Dawn inwardly visualized herself lifting the noose of chain
about her neck and tossing it away. She then took a deep breath, relishing the air of
freedom. Alex, meanwhile, not privy to Dawn's internal thoughts, continued to glance in
the direction of one or more of the bandits with the rifles trained on them.

With the last moments of twilight fading into darkness, the sound of gun fire suddenly
erupted, most of the firing coming from the direction of the five bandits lying in ambush.
The Federales had managed only one shot in retaliation, but it was pure reaction -- the
bullet flying off harmlessly into space. The five bandits seemed particularly pleased:
three of the four Federales had conveniently fallen off the trail and scarcely left even a
trace of blood. The fourth had fallen back against the rock wall, where he bled primarily
on himself. The dog, who had escaped the carnage and had been trained to ignore
gunfire, began to lick the dead master's face, wondering what was wrong.

Three of the five bandits took the time to verify the identification of the police officer,
appropriated some papers in one breast pocket, and then sent the man to join his
comrades in the dense forest below. Then they strolled back to the others, acting in all
respects like sportsmen returning from a duck hunting expedition. The papers they had
acquired were then passed on to Bandit #1, who quickly studied them with a small red
penlight. Then he smiled.

"We let you live a few more hours," he told his captives. "El Cid will want to talk to you."

Alex and Dawn were more surprised than scared. Alex asked without thinking, "El Cid!?"

Bandit #2 was intrigued. "You've heard of him?"

It was Dawn who answered. "Oh, yes. A great warrior."

Bandit #1 exchanged a look with #2 and said, "He will be pleased."

As the group began to fall into line with Alex and Dawn in the third and fourth position,
everyone headed out into the woods, walking slowly in the first moments of darkness.
They walked in silence for several minutes, before a nearly full moon began to creep over
the horizon. With the additional lighting to make the going easier for the tourists, Alex,
stepped up to walk nearly alongside Bandit #2 in order to ask a question which had been
puzzling him. "Why did you wait in ambush for us in the woods, but when the Federales
came along, you took them out on the rock ledge trail?"

Bandit #2 looked at him with surprise, before replying with a shrug of his shoulders.
"When you shoot people on the rock ledge, they tend to fall off the trail and down into
the jungle. Any money they're carrying is long gone. But in the woods, it's always
easier to empty their pockets before tossing them over the cliffs. It's a bit of a trouble to
carry their bodies that far, but it's better than losing the cash."

"And the Federales"" Alex asked.

"Federales do not carry money on them. They know their guns are enough to acquire
their needs. With them, it's just as well to have them end up at the bottom of the cliffs
immediately. We don't like to carry their bodies. They stink very badly. And bleed over
everything. Disgusting!"

"Silencio," Bandit #1 abruptly ordered.

Alex dropped back in line, his curiosity satisfied -- even if he would have liked to talk
more with Bandit #2. There were always advantages to learning from the true
professional.



At the rebel camp, Alex and Dawn were sat down by a small campfire, Alex on the bare
ground while Bandit #2 provided a camp stool for Dawn. (The guy really knew how to
treat a lady!) At the same time, Bandit #1 went to report to El Cid.

Inexplicably, both Alex and Dawn were cool and calm about the situation. Their
optimism was then totally justified as the recently famous El Cid came out and ordered
Bandit #2 to back off while he interviewed the captives alone. Then as El Cid
approached closer and took a seat on a captain's canvas studio chair, they saw him in
the flickering of firelight. Dawn, along with her intuitive sense, could not help but find
the man surprising. He was simply not what she might have expected in her wildest
dreams.

"Alexander Dukas and Dawn Riordan," El Cid began, his voice betraying a mid-western
accent. "Mind if I call you Alex?" he asked. When Alex almost laughed, and said "sure",
El Cid turned to Dawn with his best and most cordial demeanor. "And you're Miss
Riordan," he said.

Dawn was too stunned to laugh, but managed to answer, "Please call me Dawn."

El Cid's face lit up. "Thank you," he replied, suddenly very jovial. "I appreciate that!
And allow me to introduce myself. I'm El Cid!" Leaning forward, he quickly lowered his
voice as if imparting something very confidential. "No kin to that other famous fellow,
I'm afraid." Then he winked at Dawn and she silently gestured her agreement to keep
his secret.

"You speak excellent English," Alex noted. "Almost mid-western..."

"I'm from Cleveland," El Cid confided. "Used to sell used-cars until I got thoroughly fed
up one day. Went a little crazy and trashed every car on the lot. Inexplicably, they fired
me for it."

Dawn, in almost a constant state of amazement, asked, "What are you doing here?"
"Hey, I'm still a businessman," El Cid replied. "And I figured a local franchise of the
Shining Path was just the ticket. All practical businessmen are corruptible, and I'm no
exception. As for why Peru... I'm a rebel here because the rebels in this country get a
lot of respect from the local natives. A lot more honor than I ever received pushing
worn-out cars on worn-out people!"

Alex asked, "Isn't it just a bit more dangerous?"

"Obviously, you've never been to Cleveland!" El Cid quickly replied. "I'm a whole lot less
likely to get killed here than on a street corner in Ohio. For one, the terrain is a lot
tougher, and the bad guys, the Federales, are anything but heroes. They hate being
martyrs." Abruptly, he broke into a big grin. "But we love to make them martyrs.
Killing Federales is one of our favorite things." His last two words sounded suspiciously
like the strains of a song from the Sound of Music.

Then his smile faded, even as Dawn felt the slight increase in tension in the air. "Killing
Federales is good, especially when they so conveniently wander into the ideal ambush.
And anyone running from Federales is our friend. Especially when the police have
pictures of those whom they're pursuing. Gives the folks who are running a lot of status
with the Shining Path."

"They had our pictures?" Alex was more than a little dismayed.

"A copy of a fax, apparently," the man replied, nonchalantly. With a bit more
seriousness, he added, "And while you may be our friends -- politics does indeed make
strange bedfellows -- it always helps the cause of a developing deep friendship, if our
new friends have money. It helps to cement the budding relationship, if you know what I
mean."

Dawn was actually surprised, even shocked. "You're looking for a ransom!?"

El Cid leaned back, his arms held out wide in the traditional pass-the-buck routine. "Hey,
it's not me. You have to understand, I'm just the local franchise. I have bosses who are
a lot less forgiving than I am. Plus, we all have our expenses. The cost of bullets is
outrageous, especially with the inflation in this country. And there's the matter of
appearances. I can hardly keep my leadership intact if I can't extract the proverbial
pound of flesh whenever the moment calls for it!"

Alex flinched. He knew his wallet was already severely depleted. With a slight cough
and less confidence, he managed to say, "Well, actually, we're a little short at the
moment. But we're expecting a considerable amount of cash to be wired to us back in
Cuzco. If you could help us get back there..."

El Cid laughed. "You're kidding. The Federales are sufficiently interested in you they do
something they almost never do and head back along the old Inca trails, and you don't
think they'll be covering any money being wired into the country? For someone who
seems to be uncommonly important to someone with the power to get the Federales on
the stick, you ain't too smart."

Alex diverted his eyes from El Cid, realizing he had no comeback. Alex then turned to
Dawn, who was watching him, as if waiting for him to finish. Alex then smiled at her,
and keeping his eyes on Dawn, he said, "My friend is not without resources. Perhaps..."

Dawn gazed back at Alex, smiling broadly. Then she turned to El Cid. "I don't like to
negotiate with my hands tied behind my back."
"Well said," El Cid acknowledged, as he raised an arm and gestured. As Bandit #2 came
to do his bidding, the local franchise leader ordered, "Untie her." When Dawn had her
arms free and had begun rubbing them where the ropes had rubbed against her wrists,
El Cid said, "Your move."

Dawn looked at him, eyeing him carefully. Demurely, she asked, "Do you like gold?"

El Cid laughed. "Oh yes. I have a decided preference for gold. In fact, I'm a firm
believer in the Golden Rule." Grinning mischievously, he added, "Dem wid de gold,
makes de rules!"

Dawn laughed appropriately at the joke. Leaning forward and luring him into her web,
she asked, "How about gold coins? American Eagles, for example?"

El Cid's smile knew no bounds as he leaned forward toward Dawn. "At $405.22 a crack,
I'm absolutely a very forgiving man." Then noting their surprise at the preciseness of the
price quote, he added, "I keep up with the London and New York price quotes on a daily
basis. Via satellite."

Dawn almost laughed, but then returned to the moment. Turning slightly away, her eyes
still on El Cid, she reached inside her bra and pulled out two gold coins which she had
long ago secreted away. With an understated fanfare, she casually dropped them, one at
a time, into El Cid's open palm. The former used-car salesman's eyes lit up, an
appreciative smile appearing on his face. Alex's mouth simultaneously dropped open in
total amazement.

"There's another twenty just like those, if you take us back to Cuzco where I have them
hid."

El Cid did a quick calculation in his mind. "Eight thousand don't buy a lot of bullets,
especially when my boys have to go to town just to collect. Let's make it forty more
coins."

Dawn barely flinched, at least not enough for anyone to see in the dimness of the
moonlight complemented with the flickering light from the fire. "Get real," she said. "My
entire hoard was only one standard package of thirty six. You've got two of them
already."

"Leaving thirty four more?" El Cid asked.

"Leaving thirty more. I had some expenses just getting here."

"Thirty, huh?" El Cid studied the woman sitting before him. Having become something of
an expert in human nature -- in all sorts of situations -- he knew when to negotiate and
when to close the deal. Dawn, he suspected, wasn't giving away all of her cards -- or her
gold -- but something over $12,000 in gold had a nice ring to it. He had already decided
he didn't want to terminate some fellow Americans -- especially the very good looking
one. It would be such a waste!

"Okay," he announced. "You'll leave tomorrow morning before dawn. My boys will
accompany you, and you'll give them every spot of gold you have, including any still on
your lovely body. Agreed?"

Dawn smiled, lying through her teeth, "Agreed!" Standing up she extended her hand to
seal the deal. El Cid rose to the occasion, wondering obliquely if this woman realized
how smart she was to ensure that everyone in camp saw then shake hands on their
agreement.



After a morning-long hike, a ride in an old Ford truck over some of the roughest roads in
either of their memory, and then a long wait for nightfall in the outskirts of Cuzco, Dawn
and Alex mentally prepared themselves for whatever might lie in wait at the hotel where
Dawn's gold was, hopefully, still residing. Dawn made no bones about telling Bandit #2,
the leader of their small expedition, about the distinct possibility of there being someone
waiting for their return. The would-be commando grinned as he assured her that their
small band of five could easily handle any waiting party. There was, after all, the
element of surprise -- only in this case, a counter surprise.

When the time arrived, Alex and Dawn waltzed into the hotel as if they were honored
guests. Ahead of them and just behind them was a bandit, but each blending in and
doing anything but making a show of their arrival. Within minutes, the four desperadoes
had congregated by the door to Alex and Dawn's room. Alex then began working the key
in the lock, taking an inordinate amount of time to unlock the door. A bandit stood on
either side of the door, with Dawn just beyond one of them. Suddenly there was the
muffled sound of glass shattering. Then as the door finally unlocked, Alex pushed the
door wide open and stepped backward. Both bandits quickly joined Alex to look inside
the room.

The room looked neat, save for the fact the door had only opened part way and a
bleeding arm lay just beyond the edge of the door. As the bandits stepped in, their guns
at the ready, they found the body attached to the bleeding arm, along with another
body, equally dead. Both bandits smiled as they looked toward the window where the
glass panes had been shattered by a hail of bullets. Bandit #2's smiling face then
appeared in the window. Reaching in to unlock the latch, he then slung the window open
and stepped into the room. Alex and Dawn came into the room as well, closing the door
behind them.

Bandit #2 (he had never told Alex and Dawn his real name) was all smiles. "First time I
get to use silencer on my automatic weapon. I did great, no?"

Alex smiled pathetically. "Yes. You were great."

"Been wanting to use a silencer for a long time. Fantastic! Not the god-awful noise you
normally get. Of course, I did have to shoot through the window glass. That was
messy."

"Your plan worked well," Alex replied. "Our arriving at the door pretty well set them up."

Bandit #2 smiled. "Idea is to stir up the hornet's nest first in order to count the number
of hornets before you open fire. That way you get them all."

Dawn looking down at the bodies, asked, "Who are they?"

Bandit #2 did a cursory glance. "Two men in baggy suits. Who cares?" Then he turned
directly to Dawn. "Time to pay the piper. Or in this case, the sniper." The man laughed
at his own humor, but somehow his joviality did not translate well. Dawn turned to
where she recalled hiding the opened cache of gold coins. Pulling it our from under the
old style cast iron sink, she handed it to Bandit #2, who tossed the package on the bed
and one of the bandits begin to unwrap it and count the coins. Bandit #2 then turned to
Dawn and said, "I think I call myself El Silencio. What you think about that?"
Dawn knew just how to respond. "Fantastic. But I can't imagine any woman being silent
when you're with her."

The newly anointed El Silencio took a long look at the woman. Then with genuine
admiration, he said, "You're good." Then, after thinking more about it, "You also
dangerous."

Dawn quietly accepted the compliment. "At this point, we don't have enough money to
get out of the country. Perhaps you could let us have one or two coins. For expenses?"

El Silencio laughed. "You also funny." Then he smiled with considerably more threat. "I
tell you what. I give you two coins for every additional ten coins you find for us."

Dawn was surprised. And worried. "What do you mean?"

"Our illustrious El Cid, he pretty sure you holding out on him. So we can either destroy
the room making sure we have all the gold -- and then kill you and leave with it all. Or...
You can just give it to us, we give you twenty percent in return, and we let you live."

Dawn maintained a stone face, while Alex turned to her, a mild form of panic forming in
his expression. Then she smiled. "If you break one agreement. Why would you stick
with another?"

"First deal based on your lie. But if you now honest, we be honest." El smiled.

Dawn continued to look at the knight of the Shining Path, letting her intuition reach in
and sense his honesty. Slowly her smile increased. "Inside the box springs," she said.
"At the foot of the bed." Then as Alex bent over to retrieve one of the "Cod Aug 88"
packages, Dawn went to a flower vase, where she had studiously inserted individually the
36 coins from the third "Cod Aug 88" package. Alex laid his find on the bed, where he
began to open it, spilling the contents. Taking the flowers out and emptying the water,
Dawn then began trying to coax one coin at a time out of the vase. This lasted for
perhaps ten seconds before, El Silencio took the vase out of her hand, threw it on the
bed, and smashed it with the butt of his gun. Then he did a quick calculation in his head.

"The first gold we keep. The rest is 72 coins. We give you 14, just like we said. Okay?"

Dawn smiled confidently. "Okay. And thank you."

"No, no!" El Silencio insisted with great bravado, scooping up the gold into a small bag,
"Thank you!" With the gold nicely gathered, he added, with Errol Flynn bravado, "We go
now!"

"Just one question..." Dawn said, one arm raised as if to touch El Silencio's sleeve. When
El Silencio hesitated, she asked, "How did you happen to meet us in the woods?"

El Silencio's grin was classic. "The Mother, she told us you were coming. She's our
friend, but she no say, 'Don't take their gold.' That was our idea." Turning away, but
keeping his eyes on Dawn, he added with a wink, "You see... We dangerous too."

"And you would have never killed us!"

"Of course not! Not me! Not a beautiful lady!"

El Silencio then stepped through the window. The other bandits in the room, all smiles,
followed him. For several moments, Alex and Dawn just stood there, watching the open
window, looking at each other, and trying to comprehend everything that had just
happened.

Dawn was the first to move out of the comatose state. Shaking off the craziness of the
situation, she picked up four of the coins and began slipping them into her bra. Then she
gathered up the remaining ten, and looked at Alex, who had decided sitting on the bed
for a moment was a good idea. Calmly she asked, "You want to stuff a few of these
somewhere on your person?"

Alex looked at her blankly, but then responded. "Sure. I'll take a half dozen."

Dawn handed six to him, and then went to her backpack. With deft hands, she unloaded
the contents, and began secreting the coins into small crevasses in her backpack. She
avoided looking to see where Alex stuffed his coins. Then when she was done, she
quickly stripped off her torn and worn dress and began packing her backpack with her
essentials. Alex had finally caught the spirit and quickly loaded their only other piece of
luggage with their remaining belongings.

Dawn then took the dress she just taken off, and ripped a good chunk off of it. With a
certain abandon, she tossed the piece of cloth up in the air, letting it settle where it
might. The rest of the dress, she kept wadded in a ball. When Alex looked at her,
questioningly, she replied, "When they find the bodies, it might be nice to have them
think we met with foul play as well. Might slow them down." Then with minimal flair,
Dawn took the Do Not Disturb sign from the inside door handle and placed it on the
outside of the door. She bolted the door and placed the chain on the slide-hook.

"Good idea," Alex replied. "And we probably don't want to spend anymore time here."

"I agree," Dawn answered.

"Ready to go?" Alex asked.

"Almost," Dawn replied. Slinging her backpack over her shoulders, she then approached
a small potted tree. Grabbing the tree by the trunk she yanked hard and pulled it up by
the roots. This exposed the fourth "Cod Aug 88" package. Dawn brushed the dirt off and
dropped the package into her backpack. That's when she turned to see the horrified
expression on Alex's face.

"You held out on them?" he managed to stutter.

Dawn looked at him for a second before answering simply, "Didn't you hear what El
Silencio said: He would never have killed us." Abruptly she smiled broadly. "Or at least,
not the beautiful lady."

Alex shook his head, a slight smile on his face. "You didn't know that when you forgot to
mention the rest of the gold."

Dawn considered the argument for just a moment. Then with a big grin, she answered,
"I sensed it -- woman's intuition." With that she stepped through the window. Alex
followed, shaking his head from side to side, and grinning from ear to ear.



Cuzco at night is not radically different from other South American cities. Being
relatively early in the evening, people were still about on the streets. This allowed Alex
and Dawn to blend in with the crowd -- except for Alex carrying a small suitcase. That
was going to be a problem. It was just not the worst one.

"I suspect we need to get out of the country very quickly," Dawn said, as they stood at
the head of the small alley leading from their room window to the street.

"Yes, "Alex agreed. "When they find the bodies tomorrow morning, they'll be after us for
sure." Then his face turned white. "Oh shit. The hotel has our passports! We have to
get them."

Dawn groaned. "So much for making them think we were victims as well!" Then she
became even more worried, "If they came after us because of the hotel having our
passports, can we hope to pick them up? What's the likelihood of our passports even
being at the hotel?"

Alex looked more worried than Dawn, even in the dim light of the alley. Then he
swallowed, working hard to get something down. "I'll have to make the attempt. We're
not going far without passports." He then looked at Dawn, waiting for her to talk him out
of the damn fool attempt.

"Wait," Dawn said, quietly but carrying total authority. For several moments she was
silent, as her mind reached out. Something unexpected had caught her attention. Now
she was going to allow it in and momentarily put aside the distractions (heaven only
knows she'd had enough of those lately!). Her intuition then came through in a big way.
Only it didn't quite make sense.

"Stick close to me," she said, her mind still grasping for whatever was out there. She
stepped into the light of the street, and with something approaching total abandon,
walked over to a small public bench. Gesturing to Alex to join her, she sat down. As
Alex took his place beside her -- his expression one of calm expectancy -- she sat quietly
waiting for that elusive signal to manifest itself.

Within half a minute, she saw the relevant movement. A slight figure, probably a
woman, got out of a light brown four-wheel drive vehicle where it was parked across the
street. She crossed the open area, just down the street from them, and approached a
small shop. As she came into the light of the shop, Dawn recognized her. Dawn had not
even turned her head to look at the woman, but had seen quite enough out of the corner
of her eye. Alex, meanwhile, had not seen anything.

"Let's go," Dawn ordered. She immediately stood up, directing Alex to, "bring the
luggage", and then began walking casually across the street in a typical tourist fashion.
Alex did as he was told, and with the small suitcase, quickly followed her, albeit still
mystified by her actions. But he had seen enough of her ability to pull a white rabbit out
of the hat lately, to follow her anywhere.

The two of them turned and began to stroll down the street. When they came to the four
wheel drive vehicle, a Land Rover unobtrusively sitting in the darkness, Dawn
nonchalantly opened the door and got into the passenger side front seat, gesturing for
Alex to get into the back. When he hesitated, she ordered, with the full authority of
god/goddess/all-there-is, "Get in!" Alex got in.

For several minutes they waited. Then the woman across the street made a small
purchase, turned and retraced her steps across the street. Alex watched the process
with total amazement, until the woman opened the door and got into the driver's seat.
His lower jaw bounced once off the floor mats, and then as she closed the door, he
managed to gasp, "Sisi!"
"Hi guys," she replied. "You had me worried there. When I saw you go into your hotel
with those two men, I was really concerned."

"You have no idea," Dawn replied. "We were a trifle worried ourselves."

"Sisi!" Alex exclaimed, his voice slightly improved from his last attempt.

"Hi love," Sisi replied, as she started the engine, and carefully drove away from the curb.

"The men you saw us with were bandits or members of the Shining Path," Dawn
explained.

Sisi was shocked. "And they let you go!?"

"Let's just say they were well compensated for their assistance. They also shot two men
who were waiting for us in our hotel room. That's why we were leaving when we did."

"I can imagine," Sisi replied, still struggling with the incredible tale.

"Sisi!" Alex said, his voice back to normal and his mind finally believing what he was
seeing.

Sisi glanced in the rear view mirror. "You okay, Hon?"

Dawn was more business like. "Obviously, we need to get out of the country. We could
be murder suspects, among other things. But we have a major problem. The hotel has
our passports. There's also the possibility the police may have them instead. We know,
for example, the Federales were already after us. That's who we were running from
when we met up with the bandits."

Sisi laughed. "You've had a busy couple of days!" When she saw Dawn was not quite
ready to enjoy the merriment, the younger woman quickly added, "Not to worry. I've
brought some fake passports with me. That's why I flew down, instead of just wiring
Alex the money he requested."

Dawn suddenly felt the full extent of profound relief. Her entire body relaxed, as she
took a long slow breath. Alex was more vocal in his feelings: "Oh , fantastic!"

Sisi smiled. "I thought you'd be pleased." Then as an afterthought, "I just didn't know
how badly you were going to be wanting them."

Alex leaned forward to rest his arms on the backrest of the front seat. "You're an
absolute god-send Sisi! I knew there was a reason I liked you!"

Sisi gave him a quick glance. "I hope that's not the only reason you like me."

"Trust me," Alex winked. "It's not."

Dawn watched the exchange of winks and nods, feeling slightly left out. At the same
time, she quietly decided she had enough drama in her life for the time being.

"There is, however, one problem," Sisi shyly admitted. When both Alex and Dawn had
perked up and prepared themselves for the next hurdle, Sisi added, "We're going to have
to go to Bolivia before we can fly out. The passports don't include a Peruvian visa -- the
Peruvian Consulate has ceased all visas for the moment, quite possibly because of you
guys. The tough part is that we’ll have to cross the border at night."
"Is that all?" Dawn replied. "I assumed we'd have to swim down the Amazon to get off
the continent. Comparatively speaking, sneaking into Bolivia ought to be a piece of
cake!"

"Absolutely," Alex agreed. "We thought you were talking about a real problem."

Sisi looked at the two desperadoes, amazed at their reaction. She was also wondering
what in their recent experiences could have jaded the two of them sufficiently to think an
illegal border crossing from Peru to Bolivia was going to be trivial. The two countries
were practically at war.



Sisi heard all about their experiences from Alex as she drove south and east toward Lake
Titicaca. Alex had, early on, offered to let Dawn sleep in the back seat, while he rode in
front with Sisi. Dawn had not even thought to be jealous, and quickly fell asleep curled
in the back. Alex filled Sisi in, spending considerable time talking about The Mother and
what they had learned. Sisi had smiled, already knowing that their next destination was
Africa!

The road from Cuzco followed the source of the Urubamba River for some fifty miles,
constantly climbing in elevation and descending in quality. Then for another eighty
miles, winding up to the Abra La Raya, a pass some 14,147 feet above sea level, roughly
as high as the tallest mountain peaks in the continental United States. Then for another
120 miles or so, the Land Rover descended the other side, passing through the ancient
city of Azangaro, across the Carabaya River, and into the modern city of Huancane.
There they headed for the local excuse for wharves on the northern shores of Lake
Titicaca.

Luck was still with them, as one boat of questionable registry (and even more
questionable seaworthiness) was leaving within the hour for Copacabana, Bolivia. The
Captain of the vessel also had the ideal quality of having too little command of the
language to ask questions, but who on the other hand was fluent in the language of
money. Meanwhile, the keys to the Land Rover were handed over to a young man on
the docks after a long and private discussion with Sisi.

As the boat cast off, Alex and his two companions stood on the deck just forward of the
boat's dimly lit bridge. There they felt a momentary refreshment from the cool and
comfortingly moist breeze coming off of the lake. The Andes is an arid region and the
lake's moisture-laden air was a welcome change. The effect was to bring Dawn fully
awake after her brief and turbulent four hours of sleep, reinvigorate Sisi after driving
over uncertain mountain roads in the middle of the night, and plant a few ideas in Alex's
mind as he noticed how Sisi seemed rejuvenated by the sea breeze.

Dawn broke the momentary silence. "So, Alex, what are your theories on Lake Titicaca?"

Both of the others looked at her in surprise, but for different reasons (which is always the
case between men and women). Then he smiled, and said, only slightly self-conscious of
his words, "The name comes from Isla Titicaca, the Island of the Sun, where the first
beams of sunlight struck a rock just after the Great Flood and Deluge." When Dawn
registered some surprise, he added, "The Flood and Deluge by their very nature would
have been worldwide. So why not here as well?" When neither of the women said
anything, he continued. "The Lake is at an elevation of roughly 12,500 feet above sea
level, and is as far as I know, the highest major lake in the world."

Then he shifted slightly, organizing his thoughts. "The Lake is special for a lot of
reasons. All of the Andean legends begin on the shores of Lake Titicaca at a place called
Tiahuanacu. Actually, the lake used to be a hundred feet deeper and much larger in
extent. Tiahuanacu used to be an island, i.e., the Island of the Sun. Furthermore,
according to legend, it was at Tiahuanacu, the chief abode of the Creator God Viracocha,
that the Children of the Sun, the name the Incas used, were created and taught the
rudiments of civilization. It was also there that their first king, a fellow named Manco
Capac, was given a golden wand by the Sun God with which to find and found Cuzco. It
is, according to legend, the place from where the Sons of the Sun governed the Earth."

"The Anunnaki?" Dawn asked.

"Undoubtedly," he replied. "There are many connections between the Sumerians in

Mesopotamia and the establishment of Tiahuanacu. For one, the region has one very
notable characteristic: it is one of two regions on the earth abundant in tin -- the second
being Cornwall in the British Isles, not far from Stonehenge. But that's another
story." Alex smiled slightly before adding,, "Tin might not be considered one of the
precious elements, but it is essential in making Bronze -- which is a mixture of tin and
copper."

For just a moment, he stopped to take a breath and check his audience, rather like the
father reading a bedtime story to his children -- you never knew when you might have a
sleeping audience. But both of the women seemed to be following him, so he continued.
"Copper can be found in its natural state, but tin must be extracted by difficult
metallurgical processes from the ores in which it is contained. This requires a
metallurgical sophistication by the ancients which no amount of archaeological fudging
can explain. Unless, of course, the technology had been imported from somewhere else.
In the case of Mesopotamia, the technology came from the Anunnaki. In the case of
Tiahuanacu, it came from Mesopotamia. But originally it probably came from the same
source, the Anunnaki.

"The reason tin is so important is that in the ancient days, bronze was important. It was
the first metal to be used by humans. Bronze is also difficult to produce, requiring a
specific combination of copper to tin in the end product. The best bronze is made with
approximately 15% tin and 85% copper. The Sumerians described it as 1 part tin and 6
parts copper. But when tin was in short supply, less was used and the quality of the
bronze decreased. The variation in bronze quality over the ages has resulted in
archaeologists specifying different ages in the development of bronze: The Old Bronze
Age beginning about 3500 B.C.E., followed by lowering of the percentage of tin in bronze
(to as little as 2%), and then the Middle Bronze age, where the percentage of tin returns
to the almost ideal level of 15%. Lake Titicaca's contribution of tin is thus important
because it was almost certainly a major source of the Middle Bronze Age in Mesopotamia.

"And if you don't believe me, read the eighth chapter of Job, where he describes where
the ores were to be found, a place where the lion has not trod. There are no lions in
South America."

Sisi was the first to voice it. "Why in the world wouldn't we believe you, Alex?"

Alex smiled , while Dawn laughingly said, "Alex has had a hard week. He met me."

Alex looked at Dawn with complete sincerity. "It hasn't been that traumatic."

"Maybe not for you," Dawn replied. Looking around the boat, she asked, "Is there a
place where we can get some sleep. I really didn't rest that well in the Land Rover."

Sisi laughed. "I can imagine. In fact, I was amazed you slept at all."
"We're all a little shy of sleep," Alex said. "And yes, I do think we can find some bunks
below. Only I suspect one of us should stay awake at all times."

The three quickly agreed and after a quick discussion with the Captain, who was already
primed to fall asleep on the bridge, they went below to an incredibly small bunkroom,
outside of which was a small galley -- or what had once been a galley long, long ago (in a
galaxy far, far away perhaps). Dawn volunteered to take the first watch, and Sisi and
Alex went into the bunkroom and closed the door. It seemed unlikely to Dawn that Sisi
and Alex would be spending all of their time sleeping, but she quickly dismissed the idea
as silly.

Until, of course, every sensory organ of her body, including her increasingly well
developed intuitive sense told her they were doing precisely what she had suspected they
would be doing. It took a lot of will power for her not to walk in and quietly suggest they
get some sleep instead. But then, as is always the case, things calmed down and the
two people began to sleep very soundly.

Two and a half hours later, when Alex took over the watch and Dawn went into the
bunkroom, she noticed the upper bunk had been unused in recent days. She decided to
ignore the implications, crawled in, and went to sleep very quickly. Five hours later, Sisi
woke her, telling her it was morning and they were approaching Copacabana. Sometime
in the night they had crossed into Bolivia. All three still looked rather wretched, but they
were closer to their goal.

Customs turned out to consist of one semi-official Bolivian, who in the true
entrepreneurial spirit was delighted to provide the all-important entry stamps for their
new passports in exchange for a small donation to his favorite charity (something
involving the Juarez Family Fund). Then, with their presence in Bolivia officially
recognized, they moved up to a first class car-for-hire which would take them in the
direction of Tiahuanacu via the Pan American highway and thence to La Paz, the capital
of Bolivia. There they proceeded directly to the airport outside the city, situated on a
high bluff overlooking the capital.

The airport in Bolivia, the J. F. Kennedy International Airport, has the curious distinction
of being the highest major airport in the world, well over 14,000 feet in elevation and
higher than any place in the continental United States. But the tourists had little time to
comment on the name or the elevation. Their flight had already been called by the time
they had purchased tickets with Sisi's money. Once again, they were on the run. So to
speak.

Only when the airplane was airborne did they feel even remotely at ease. Dawn did take
the precaution once the seat belt sign was turned off to take a stroll about the spacious
cabin of the 747, intuitively checking each of the other passengers. Fortunately, with the
plane carrying only a third of its capacity, this didn't take long. When she got back to
her seat, Sisi had dropped back off to sleep, but Alex was still awake. Dawn took the
seat next to him and on the other side from Sisi.

"I didn't have to time ask you back at the airport," Dawn began, "why we're flying to
South Africa. I would have though Egypt was our next stop."

"Part necessity, part practicality," Alex replied. "Sisi has a mission of her own contacting
a man who has helped us in the past. Essentially, she's going there to warn him of
what's happening."

"What is happening?" Dawn asked, suddenly aware of David and the ones still in Phoenix.
"The lab was raided just after they had moved the most important equipment. A
cleaning woman, who had apparently misunderstood their instructions not to return to
work, was gunned down. Details are sketchy, because the group didn't want to expose
themselves purely from the viewpoint of curiosity. David's home was also burned to the
ground, supposedly because of an electrical failure of some kind. But no one was home
at the time, and save for the unfortunate cleaning woman, everyone is still safe. But
clearly, none of us can leave anything to chance any more."

"Where does that leave us?"

"Still on the run, I suppose," Alex replied, shrugging his shoulders. "You and I will fly
directly from South Africa to Ethiopia. We won't even go through customs in South
Africa."

"This is really crazy," Dawn thought. "It's like it's all coming apart."

"There is some good news," Alex offered. When Dawn showed interest, he said, "David
has had some success at controlling the levitation effect of the superconducting
elements. He thinks he can eventually do it with human beings."

Dawn looked askance at Alex. "You're kidding!? A person levitating?"

Alex smiled slightly, and in a low voice said, "Back in the Middle Ages, there were a
group of French girls who developed an ability to levitate at will. The church was
immediately called in and some priests sent to debunk the rumors. Only they weren't
able to do so. So I suppose it's already been done."

Dawn watched him for several seconds. "What happened to the French girls?"

Alex swallowed slightly. "They killed them," he reluctantly admitted.

Dawn flinched. "That's hardly encouraging," she replied in a saddened voice.

Shrugging his shoulders, Alex replied, "We may want to avoid immediately going public."

Leaning back in her seat, Dawn reflected on her thoughts. Then she turned to Alex, and
in a forceful whisper, asked, "How do these people keep finding us?"

Alex grimaced slightly, embarrassed by the necessary omission of his lack of

omniscience. "In foreign countries, whenever you give your passports to the hotel, they
automatically check them out with the local police. I hadn't known that before. Every
time we used our passports, it went into some computer and with everything linked we
were fairly easy to follow."

"But on the mountain in Mexico?"

"That's not as clear. But if they tracked us to Mexico, then there are several logical
destinations they might assume we would choose. You'll notice they weren't at the
pyramids. But that's probably because that's not where the action is. On the other
hand, the other places we went to were rather precisely the critical places, and these can
be known to our enemies as well as us."

Dawn looked at him for a long minute. "And our next logical destination will be Egypt,
where they will be waiting for us."
"Possibly. But not necessarily," Alex replied. "We have fake passports. They won't
know we've left Peru. They may think we're laying low there, and this may give us a
little time. That's why Sisi felt it was so important to bring the passports to us. Why she
risked her life to do it."

"I very much appreciate Sisi's action," Dawn replied. "It clearly saved us. But...!" She
paused for just a second. "How do we know the people who provided us the fake
passports are not on the take from the Patrons? Why should we assume the fakes are
not just as traceable?"

Alex grimaced at the idea. Then he swallowed slightly, trying to digest the new thought.
"Then," he finally said, "We'll have to be very careful." Shaking off the distinct lack of
feeling comfortable, he added, "Flying into Ethiopia may help. It's sort of the back door
to Egypt. Hopefully they are no computers on the southern Egyptian frontier."

Dawn shook her head, even less encouraged than before. "Do you have any idea," she
began to ask, "How dangerous Ethiopia is? They're constantly fighting civil wars,
struggling through famines, shooting foreigners at random... It's not a safe place for
anyone; let alone two people being pursued by virtually every self-interest group in the
world!"

Alex sat still for a moment. Then, quietly, he replied, "You may be right. But it's where
we have to go. Ultimately, it's our only hope."
The Lovers

Chapter Eighteen

The first hours of the flight were relatively uneventful, save for a short, very private
conversation between Sisi and Dawn. It began with Sisi, in her characteristic no-holds-
bared style. "I had been meaning to talk to you about something, but there's been so
little time."

"Talk ahead," Dawn foolishly replied, figuring she could handle anything. She was
wrong.

"While we were on the boat on Lake Titicaca, Alex and I made love." Dawn was clearly
surprised at Sisi bringing up the subject, but Sisi misinterpreted her expression as being
surprised at the act itself. "I hope you're not upset. It's not our first time."

"No, no. I'm not upset. I rather suspected as much." To herself, Dawn added, 'I heard
and felt every heartbeat, every sigh, every groan of ecstasy... Geez!'

"Did you?" Sisi asked, as if there was a new subject on the table.

"Did I what?" Dawn replied.

"Did you and Alex make love while I was on watch?" Sisi made the question seem
simple.

Dawn was still out of her realm. Shaking her head slightly, she answered evenly, "Alex
and I are not lovers. We haven't quite gotten around to that."

"Would you like to be?" Sisi's bright and cheerful tone made it the next obvious
question. "There's something so incredibly wonderful about being The Lovers. There's a
harmonious integration of your conscious and subconscious minds, your very souls
honest, balanced, and one. There is simply nothing better than the Sacred Orgasm!"

Dawn blinked several times, before saying, "I hadn't really thought about it." Then
hastily, she added, "I mean with Alex. The rest I know about. I just hadn't thought of
Alex as a lover."

"Oh right!" Sisi said, kiddingly and in the nicest possible way. "I'm sure it never once
crossed your mind." Then, in a gesture of lending a helping hand, she offered, "I can ask
Alex about it, if you like. I'm sure with a little encouragement..."

"No, no!" Dawn hurriedly interrupted, "I'm willing to let nature take its course."

Sisi then tilted her head seductively. "I rather think it might be nice for the three of us
to get together sometime." When Dawn's expression made it clear she was out of her
league, Sisi hastily added, "Don't misunderstand. I'd be making love to you as much as
Alex! I know that Alex would be delighted."

Dawn swallowed hard. "I don't think I'm quite ready for that yet."

Sisi's enthusiasm suddenly seemed dashed. "Oh. I've shocked you."

Dawn smiled gallantly, as she managed, "A little."

"Well," Sisi replied. "Think about it. It's just making love."

"I'll think about it," Dawn replied. She assumed it was an innocent lie, but as it turned
out, she did think about it. She came no closer to wanting to do it. But she couldn't
quite avoid thinking about it! At the same time, Dawn rather thought, if she were to get
her feet wet, it would be with Alex alone. And unaided by Sisi -- before, during or after!



Johannesburg was a whirlwind. The South African airline uncharacteristically arrived

almost an hour late, putting all schedules that much behind. Because everyone had been
sleeping during the last hours of the flight, there was no time for a leisurely good-bye
with Sisi. She was quickly funneled by the authorities into customs, while Alex and
Dawn, scheduled for a flight north to Nairobi, Kenya, were hustled off in the other
direction. Besides, the Afrikaners, with their Germanic attention to efficiency and time
schedules, were not into long good-byes -- even among lovers.

There was also the matter of making the connection to Kenya. Both Alex and Dawn
ended up running for the airplane -- which more to tradition in the Johannesburg airport,
departed on time. There was a minor wait on the flight line, but no one kept notes of
that type of delay, and thus it was never officially recognized. For the record book, the
flight was exactly on time! End of discussion! Das ist alles!

As they settled into the flight, Dawn and Alex found themselves wide awake, even if
marginally exhausted. They had just crossed six times zones (not counting the one
between Peru and Bolivia), and were about to lose another on the way to Nairobi. The
only saving grace was they would be retracing one of those hours in going from Kenya
and Ethiopia to Egypt -- but that was for later. In the meantime they were being thrown
into the throes of jetis lagis extremis. Sleep patterns were crunched, and there was no
sign of any immediate future opportunities to relax and recuperate.

There also seemed to be a distinct hint of discomfort in their relationship. After having
drawn together in surviving their recent trials, Sisi had, through no fault of her own,
reminded Dawn and Alex that they were still on very shaky ground when it came to an
intimate relationship between just the two of them. For the first hour, neither broached
into anything more profound than the trivial and mundane topics of conversation one
might have exchanged with any total stranger on a long flight. Both were aware of the
lull in the conversation, but only Dawn seemed determined to do something about it.
Her first move was to take the arm rest between them and stow it between the seat
backs. This symbolic move removed an invisible barrier and she turned to face him.

"What do you know about Sisi's next move?" Dawn asked.

"She's heading north to some Safari camp. It's a tourist thing where you can go and see
the wild animals of Africa. She's supposed to meet the guy there. That's about all I
know."
"Why South Africa though?" Dawn was gently insistent. "What's this guy to you?"

Alex shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know David's connection to him or how it started.
I do know the man is well aware of the situation with the..." Alex suddenly decided not
to use the term, 'precious metals'. "...with the ORME materials. He’s someone on the
inside of the... relevant organizations, but doesn't seem to have a vested interest. He's
also an expert on ancient mines."

"Ancient mines?" Dawn asked. "What are you talking about?"

"There are gold mines in Africa that go back fifty thousand or more years. They’re
almost certainly evidence of the Anunnaki mines, first dug before man even came on
the scene."

"I thought they were from Mesopotamia." Quickly, she added, "And Lake Titicaca."

Alex stopped a moment, pursing his lips. "According to the Sumerian texts, when the
Anunnaki first arrived, it was in Mesopotamia. The first base was Eridu, at what was at
the time, the northern shore of the Persian Gulf. There, Enki began attempting to obtain
gold from sea water. After a long time, when it became obvious this was not producing
the amounts originally expected, Enki's father and king showed up along with the heir
apparent, Enlil. This is when the Enki-Enlil rivalry really took off. Enlil was made the one
in charge of the earth mission, but Enki was allowed certain concessions: He kept Africa
and his home in Eridu. Meanwhile, the plan was then to go for the gold by mining in
South Africa.

"The Sumerian records refer to the mines as the AB.ZU. Zecharia Sitchin figures they
were the ancient mines in South Africa. Plus there's another South African connection.
After the Anunnaki had mined the gold for thousands of years -- remember they're very
long lived, or at least their personalities are -- they got fed up one day and mutinied.
That was when Enki and Ninki created man by cross breeding Homo erectus with the
Anunnaki and then using what they called 'birth goddesses' to carry the new species to
term. The Sumerian texts go into a great amount of detail describing how Enki and Ninki
pulled it off -- including enough scientific detail to be confirmed by modern scientific
techniques. And as most paleontologists know, man first came out of Africa. So this is
where it all began. It all ties together."

Dawn sighed. "I'm beginning to believe it." Then, she changed the subject rather
abruptly, looking at him with a knowing clarity. "You really care for Sisi, don't you?"

Alex was momentarily thrown off stride himself. Then, making it sound like, 'yes, I do
receive the newspaper', he answered, "Yeah, I do. She's rather special. Quite a work."

"I agree with you," Dawn answered. Then gently she asked, "Worried about her right
now?"

"A little," Alex admitted. "But she's more than capable of taking care of herself --
probably in your league." Then he smiled. "Way above my ability, that's for sure."

"Thanks for the compliment," Dawn said. Then, "I suspect we could become friends."

Alex laughed. "I think you'll find Sisi to be the best kind of friend. She's extremely
independent, totally non-possessive, and as full of life as anyone I've ever met. You can
count on her on any imaginable situation, even if you can't exactly pin her down."
Dawn smiled to herself. She had meant the expectation of a friendship to be between
Alex and herself, but clearly he had missed the point. Big surprise! But Dawn knew she
wanted to make the effort with both, no matter where it might lead. And where it could
possibly lead was simply not all that clear!

For the next several hours they experienced the early stages of an evolving relationship
based on understanding who one was, where they had been, and what they had become
-- instead of simply mutual support during the emergencies of the moment. For the next
several hours, they talked about themselves, their lives, and their histories. Alex even
managed to talk about his alcoholic father whom he had lost at the tender age of
thirteen, the subsequent years of trying to survive financially with his mother on their
small cattle ranch in Texas, and the following years as a commissioned officer in the U.
S. Navy. The latter had come about as an expedient in getting his college education
despite the shortage of family funds. It had been after the Navy years of obligatory
service Alex had returned to school and received his Ph.D.

Then there was the long, slow climb up the professorial career letter, occurring
simultaneously with the failing marriage -- the latter which had been doomed in the early
years but which had not become officially dissolved until the children had grown up and
left the nest. With the dissolving of the marriage, the university career had lost most of
its luster as well, and Alex had begun the long search for a life's work with meaning -- a
path with heart. It had been then he had met Gil and found the best part of his life.

In response, Dawn had described to Alex her early flashes of intuitive genius, her highly
skeptical and obsessive father (whose degrees in engineering afforded him little
understanding of his daughter's talents -- at least those outside of the logical and
rational opinions of narrow minds). There was also her mother who simply had no
imagination beyond her suburban home and small family.

From the moderately restrictive family scene, Dawn had graduated to the college of
humanities where she had learned of her duties and responsibilities in the American
Dream scenario. This was followed by two years of rebellion in the evergreen forests of
the Pacific Northwest, and then a brief career as a computer consultant (i.e. salesperson)
in San Francisco.

Finding the corporate life dismal at best, Dawn had eventually retreated to her parent's
original intention for her; marrying a good provider, giving birth to two delightful
children, and ending up in Seattle as part of the Boeing Corporation's large, extended
family. But for Alex, it was Dawn's detailed description of her life following the loss of
her family in an auto accident that most captured his attention. Losing children at such a
young age seemed incomprehensible to him. Despite the fact that for Dawn, the tragedy
now seemed to be a very, very long time ago.

By the time they landed in Nairobi, there had been a notable increase in the strength of
their bonds, and Dawn felt much more comfortable with where they were now heading.

In Nairobi proper, Alex did himself proud. While Dawn acquired lodgings without having
to use a passport, Alex found an English pilot named Scott, a gentleman of the old school
who had long since been expelled for conduct unbecoming said gentleman. In short, the
man was a maverick having come from a country with a very limited supply of
mavericks. He had nevertheless managed to retain a sense of honor and daring, along
with the Englishman's traditional quality of assuming England would always rule the
world. And for good reason: No other country had the personal style appropriate to such
an ambition.

The plan was set for the Englishman to ferry two eccentric Americans to Axum on the
following morning. In the meantime, they would spend the remaining afternoon hours
enjoying a good meal in Nairobi, and then retire early for a legitimate night's sleep.
Dawn had arranged for two private rooms, separated by an adjoining bathroom. But as
she drifted off to sleep, she decided that had been a mistake. Henceforth, she
determined, they would be sleeping together, regardless of whether or not there was any
sex involved. At least, she could enjoy the suspense and mystery that would naturally
occur from being in the same room, if not in the same bed. Such is an aspect of life
most prized: Not knowing what is about to happen next, and delighting in the
unknowing. It was the best way of dealing with the world -- especially a world which
seemingly had a mind of its own.



The Englishman's aircraft, which Alex had made a point to check out the day before, was
a twin engine, jack-of-all-trades, recently customized (due to the lack of standard parts
available), and amazingly dependable airplane -- and which went by the name of Heather
(apparently no relation to feather). It had been used for everything from cargo to
diamond smuggling to crop dusting. It had also been used to meet every tourist whim
known to the travel industry. Flying north across the highlands of Ethiopia and west of
the Horn of Africa, was going to be a piece of cake in comparison to some hired treks.
One with frosting, Scott assured them.

There was the customary kissing of the lady's hand by the pilot prior to take off, a quick
check to ensure the beverages and lights lunches were acceptable, and the traditional
gesture of making sure the lady was secure in her seat and very comfortable. An added
feature, occasioned by Scott upon first seeing Dawn refreshed and looking
'extraordinarily fetching' (to use his phrase), was that she would be accorded the honor
of sitting in the co-pilot's seat. Alex would be allowed to use the seat just behind her,
while the lunch and beverage container took the seat next to him. And of course, there
would be no reason why Alex could not serve the two in the front, inasmuch as Scott had
his hands full with Heather. And Dawn!

The first half hour of the flight was in clearing the immediate vicinity of Nairobi, heading
west to confuse the local traffic controllers, and then turning north to fly over Lake Rudolf
on the way to Axum. The conversation was light and inconsequential, as Scott pointed
out various sights. It helped that they were flying low, inasmuch as everything was
spectacular. New mountains, lakes, rivers and small forests kept constantly cropping up
on the horizon. The low altitude also ensured the airplane was off the radar -- just in
case anyone in authority cared. At the same time, Scott kept sufficient altitude to
remove any possibility of an abrupt and very premature crash landing. Finally, as they
approached the Ethiopian border, Scott became more direct. "Ever been to Axum,
before?" he asked, nonchalantly.

"No," Alex answered. "First time for both of us."

"Looking for the Ark of the Covenant, I presume. Most Americans traveling to Axum
are." Scott smiled showing his good intentions.

Dawn glanced back at Alex, who pretended innocence. Then she smiled. "Are we talking
about the biblical Ark of the Covenant?"

"Of course!" Scott exclaimed. "You're familiar with the Ethiopian Book of Enoch, aren't
you? The biblical book known as the Kebra Nagast."

Dawn laughed, saying congenially. "Not even vaguely."

Scott took the opening. "Would you like to hear about it?" he asked with as much
enthusiasm as any Englishman has ever been accused of displaying in public.
Dawn smiled her most encouraging smile. "I'd love to hear about it!"

Scott was delighted at her response. Encouraged, he surged forth with all the dramatic
license at his command. "You're probably familiar with the biblical story of the Ark of the
Covenant. Moses had it constructed as the Jews left Egypt supposedly to house the
tablets on which the Ten Commandments were written. But there is much more to it
than that. The Ark was also instrumental in wiping out more than a few enemies of the
Jews. It had all the attributes of a major weapon. A super charged one, as a matter of
fact.

The Ark, for example, was always transported through the wilderness wrapped in thick
cloths to protect its bearers from its unearthly powers. At one point, two of the sons of
Aaron, Nadab and Abihu, were struck dead by a flame leaping out from the Ark and
devouring them when they approached it. Years later, King Uzziah was smitten with
Leprosy after approaching the Ark. Even Moses ended up with his face burnt and glowing
as if he had been seriously radiated by a strong light or radioactive nuclear source. After
placing the tablets of stone inside the ark, he had to wear a veil, his face was so burned.

"One particular event I find enormously fascinating was when some 250 of the Jewish
men wanted to share in the leadership with Moses and Aaron. Moses would not hear of
it! But when they insisted they be allowed to approach the Ark, Moses said okay. Then,
when they were all before it, Moses and Aaron fell to the ground and the 250 were struck
by an incredible lightening bolt, killing each and every one of them." Suddenly, Scott
laughed. "Moses was apparently a bit of a control freak, and knew how to maintain his
being in charge."

"I had no idea," Dawn replied. "I guess I haven't read a lot of the Bible."

"Fascinating document," Scott assured her. "Of course, a lot of the really interesting
events come from other rabbinical sources, legends and traditions. Still, they all agree
that the Ark of the Covenant was one astounding object. In fact, if you carefully study
the subject, you realize this massive chunk of gold and other materials had the ability to
lift itself off the ground -- along with its bearers and other objects -- it continually
emitted an intense light, was always associated with a strange 'cloud' materializing
'between the cherubim', was inevitably afflicting people with every ailment from leprosy
to tumors, and always killed those who accidentally touched or opened it!"

Dawn was suddenly intrigued. Leaning toward him, she asked, "It levitated itself?"

Scott was almost nonchalant. "Absolutely! There are several references to that fact."

Dawn looked back at Alex, who had the Cheshire Cat look of someone who already knew
the answers and was enjoying another's surprise and amazement. Dawn gave Alex a
quick frown of 'you should have told me' and then turned back to Scott. "This is
fascinating."

"Now you know why the Bible makes it appear to be so important, spending chapters
describing its design and construction, all the wondrous events it precipitated, and those
first eventful decades, when it was wiping out the competition with its incredible powers.
This was an extraordinary object!" Scott took a few moments to let it sink in with Dawn.

"Now," he began again, "You need to understand that Moses and the Ark began their
journey sometime around 1430 B.C. There might be some disagreement about the date,
but we're in the ball park. At this time the Ark was nigh-on invincible, helping Joshua in
his campaigns in the Promised Land.
"But within a hundred and fifty years of Joshua's death -- who incidentally had been
indoctrinated into the intricacies of the Ark by Moses -- the Ark was no longer routinely
being carried into battle. Instead, it had been installed in a place known as Shiloh,
where it remained for many years -- until one day when the Israelites had been roundly
defeated in a battle with the Philistines, and the Israelites went back to pick up their
favorite weapon. Whereupon they charged back into battle, and guess what? They were
slaughtered by the Philistines again and the Philistines carted off the Ark!"

Scott laughed slightly, enjoying Dawn's rapt attention. "Of course, the Philistines
couldn't handle the Ark either, and within seven months they sent it back to where it had
come from. Good riddance, I imagine they concluded."

Scott paused for just a second, before continuing. "Of course, this wasn't necessarily
good news for the Israelites. For according to Samuel, I think it's verse 6:19, the people
who then came across and looked into the Ark, were 'smitten', some fifty thousand and
seventy of them; slaughtered! Need-less-to-say, the survivors decided it was not safe to
keep the Ark close by, and carted it off to a place called 'Kiriath-Jearim', where they
installed it, isolated it, and guarded it for the next couple of centuries. It was King
David, around 1000 B.C. who finally brought it back to Jerusalem, right after he had
captured the city.

"Eventually, his son, Solomon, built a Temple to house the Ark, completing it around 955
B.C." Scott then glanced mischievously toward Dawn. "What is truly amazing that after
playing such an important role in Jewish history, this most sacred relic of all rather
slipped out of the minds of the people and vanished sometime between the tenth and
sixth centuries, B.C."

Dawn smiled, equally mischievously. "And now I'll bet... You're going to tell me what
happened to the Ark, and where it disappeared to?"

Scott was all gallantry, having learned how to gently handle a lady in his years of flying
Heather. "The lady is too quick for me. I can't hope to compete." Then as Dawn gave
him the look of 'try', Scott shrugged his shoulders and forged ahead. "It wasn't very
long before King Solomon had a visitor, a queen of the south, appropriately identified as
the Queen of Sheba. 'Sheba' actually means 'south'. And Egypt and Ethiopia are, of
course, south of Israel.

"King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba did right well with one another, and she promptly
got pregnant. She returned to her own land, where she gave birth to a son she named
Menelik." Scott smiled suddenly, clearly up to mischief. "Guess who the Queen of Sheba
really was."

"Queen Hatshepsut of Egypt," Alex promptly replied. When Dawn, obviously surprised,
looked at him, he rephrased the name, "Hat-cheap-suit."

Dawn smiled and said, "You have the strangest ways of remembering names."

Alex smiled, while Scott checked him out in a rear view mirror. "Hatshepsut! Absolutely
correct," the Englishman said. "You've read Velikovsky!"

Alex was nonchalant. "It's the only way the histories correlate."

"I agree wholeheartedly, even if there are a few scholars I respect who don't think so,"
Scott responded. Then, turning back to Dawn, he added, "Of course it wasn't long, about
twenty years I suppose, before Menelik took a fortnight off and came to Israel to call on
dear old Dad, King Solomon.
"The King was pleased enough to find himself with a fully grown young son, but the
priests of the Temple were anything but! What with their fanaticism toward racial purity,
they simply could not tolerate the idea of a half-breed, illegitimate Egyptian brat hanging
around King Solomon's court. So they told the King he had to send the young man
away. The King was less than pleased, but then he retaliated in a way only Solomon
could. Inasmuch as Menelik was the King's son, he demanded the priests also send one
of their sons away as well. In fact, these sons of the priests were to accompany Menelik
as his entourage! Is that Solomonic wisdom or what?"

Dawn was completely agreeable. "Seems fair to me."

Scott verified his own opinion with a gesture. Then he said, "But it was these same sons
of the priests who had been raised in the priesthood specifically to take care of the Ark of
the Covenant. So guess what? Menelik and the priest sons took the Ark of the Covenant
with them when they left!"

Scott gestured with one hand, as if recognizing the obvious solution. Then he added,
with less intensity, "Some say, Menelik stole the Ark. Of course, if he had, you would
have thought the priests would have made some sort of commotion about the most
incredible religious relic in history being suddenly stolen!" Scott shook his head. "No, I
suspect it was very clear Menelik and company were leaving with it. And considering
how often the Ark had killed innocent people, the priests might have decided losing the
Ark was just as well."

"Maybe they thought they'd get the Ark back once it had killed Menelik," Dawn
suggested.

"That's a distinct possibility," Scott replied. "But I rather suspect that they knew
beforehand. They just couldn't acknowledge the fact publicly. So, Menelik took the Ark
to an island along the Nile, near Aswan. The island was shaped something like an
elephant, and was thus called Elephantine. It was there Menelik and his followers
settled, and there they built a temple with the same measurements and roofed in the
same manner with cedarwood as was Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem."

"A second Temple?" Dawn asked.

"Yes," the pilot replied, "in what turned out later to be a Moslem country. Is that irony,
or what? In any case, it was finished sometime during the eighth or seventh century
B.C.

"It is worth mentioning that when King Josiah, who lived roughly 640-609 B.C., banned
the traditional animal sacrifices in anywhere but Jerusalem, the Jewish settlement on
Elephantine continued the practice. Perhaps they thought they had some sort of special
dispensation what with having the Ark and all. In any case, the Ark remained at
Elephantine until about 525 B.C. when Cambyses and the expansionist Persian Empire
that had been founded by his father Cyrus the Great, came to Egypt and knocked down
all the temples of the gods of Egypt. However! Cambyses did not damage the Jewish
Temple on Elephantine! The Persians, in fact, got along famously with the Jews there.

"But then, toward the beginning of the fifth century B.C., when the Persian protection
was effectively removed and the newly empowered Egyptians were looking with disdain
at the Jewish settlement, the Jews took their Ark and headed south to the island of Tana
Kirkos in Ethiopia. Eventually, the Ark found its way to Axum, where it was installed in a
Christian church. The descendants of those ancient Jews became known as Falashas.
The Falashas are interesting because they continued to practice until the present day
what can only be described as archaic Judaism, animal sacrifices and the like. This is
easy to understand, in that in the outback of Ethiopia they were effectively cut off from
Jerusalem and the various reforms instituted over the millennia. It was only in recent
years that they were repatriated to Israel."

Dawn shook her head in amazement. "The Ark was carried off by the son of King
Solomon and Queen Hatshepsut, and ended up in Axum, Ethiopia! Phenomenal!"

Scott, his lecture meeting with rave reviews, replied, "Yes. This is where the Knights
Templar came at the invitation of a later-day King Menelik of Ethiopia, to act as
mercenaries, and for a time act as the guardians of the Ark. The Ark may in fact explain
the Templars' ability to acquire the incredible wealth they were known to have amassed
over the years. Of course, the Templars arrived around 1200 A.D.

"Keep in mind also that the former King of Ethiopia, the modern day Haile Selassie who
was deposed in 1974, claimed to be the 225th direct-line descendent of Solomon and the
Queen of Sheba. In addition, Axumite traditions attribute the powers of the Ark in the
ancient's abilities to raise the stele of Axum, some standing 70 feet tall and weighing as
much as 300 tons. One, which has fallen, actually weighed 500 tons, and stood more
than 100 feet tall!"

"Then the Ark is still in Axum!" She turned to Alex. "That's why we've come here!"

Scott showed the first signs of embarrassment. "I feel obligated to point out the Ark is
currently probably not at Axum. On the one hand, there is evidence that it was returned
to Jerusalem and secreted below the remains of the Temple of Solomon. From there, of
course, the Knights Templar may have secreted it away. Any reference to Axum,
therefore, may have been a Templar fabrication to mislead the unwary.

"An alternative theory is that the Ark remained at Axum, until it was removed to
Jerusalem several years ago when the Falashas were airlifted back to Israel, after having
been removed from mainstream Judaism for nearly 3,000 years. I rather doubt the Ark
is still at Axum. I'm sorry, if your trip is for nothing."

Dawn looked back at Alex, who shrugged his shoulders in reply. Then he said, "I'm
aware of the theory of the Jewish Government having reacquired the Ark and then
hidden it in Jerusalem. That's not why we're going to Axum." Alex didn't mention why
they were going to Axum, in part because Scott didn't have a need to know, and in part
because Alex had no idea of what to expect when they got there.

Scott showed immediate relief. "That's good," he replied.

Dawn looked back at Alex. "You knew all about this history before, didn't you?"

Alex flinched slightly. "I've heard most of it."

Dawn promptly gave him one of her best frowns. "Well, I don't think I'm going to believe
you. You can hardly expect me to give you credit for knowing this fascinating story if
you're not the one to tell me! If you had known, you should have told me a long time
ago." Dawn was apparently very piqued.

Alex held up his hand in defense. "But I'm always telling you things. It just takes time
to cover all the subjects. And there's so much to tell!"

Dawn gave him an audible 'harump!', and turned back to face forward. The men
remained silent for several minutes, waiting to see what Dawn would do next. Then, as
if nothing had happened, she turned to Scott and asked, "If the Ark is currently in
Jerusalem, why would the Jewish Government keep the recovery of the Ark of the
Covenant a secret? I would have thought they would be announcing the fact in the most
grandiose fashion imaginable. This has to be incredible news!"

Scott smiled, shrugging slightly. "If they admit to having recovered the biblical Ark of
the Covenant, then they would have to contend with the religious right, a sect very
politically powerful in Israel, who would then be demanding the rebuilding of the Temple
of Solomon in order to house the Ark. But the rebuilding of the Temple in the exact
proportions and in the exact location of Solomon's original temple would necessitate the
destruction of the Dome of the Rock, one of the Moslem's most holy mosques. For the
Muslims, this would mean nothing less than Jihad against the infidels! The Ark is
effectively a powder keg capable of starting the final Holy War!"

"Oh," Dawn replied, suddenly abashed.

"The concern," Scott conceded, "Is that the Jewish Government is biding its time,
learning what it can from the Ark, perhaps delving into its secrets. There is the distinct
possibility the Israelites will acknowledge its presence at some time in the near future.
They will be expecting Holy War in that case, but they may think they're ready for it.
They probably won't be, but they may think so. The problem is that in a true holy war,
half of the population of the Muslim nations would readily become martyrs. It's a little
scary."

'Very scary,' Dawn thought. While she pondered some of the implications, Scott became
considerably more intense on flying his plane at ever lower altitudes, sneaking into Axum
air space from the west. Noticing this fact, Dawn decided to remain quiet for the
remainder of the flight.

Landing was something of an adventure in that the "airfield" was notably unofficial -- one
commonly used for any number of unofficial landings and take offs, and therefore never
officially recognized as an airport. The only official recognition of anything was the local
Mafia-style governmental presence in the context of providing a recipient for the
standard bribes -- the bribes being based on a sliding scale dependent upon the number
of passengers. Alex had already used four of his gold coins for the flight, and was now
obligated to pay one more for the landing. It was understood a second coin would be
required for the take-off. For Alex, the gold was simply an example of the perennial
statement: easy come, easy go.

Scott was left at the landing area, where he would be acquiring fuel from the local black
market. Meanwhile, Dawn and Alex headed for the sanctuary of the Ark of the
Covenant. As they walked through the dusty streets, Dawn asked the question that had
been on her mind. "Do you think the modern day Jewish Government might actually be
able to use the Ark as a weapon? Would they be willing to attempt a pre-emptive strike
against a possible Holy War?"

Alex shook his head. "No. I don't think so -- for a couple of reasons. First of all, I
suspect they'll never figure out how to make a weapon out of it. And the reason for that
comes from Exodus 24:12, where the Lord told Moses: 'I will give thee tables of stone,
and a law, and commandments which I have written; that thou mayest teach them.' The
Lord did not say I will give you commandments written-on-stone! He said: 'tables of
stone, and a law, and commandments...' I would also have to assume one would not
write down commandments and then seal them away in a container, a container which
regularly killed people for just getting too close. That doesn't strike me as an effective
way to 'teach them.'

"Instead, consider the possibility the tables of stone were separate items, distinct from
the law and the commandments. Think of the tables of stone as, perhaps, the
'philosopher's stone', the mono-atomic precious elements, superconducting, and
quite capable of electrifying anyone who accidentally made the connection to ground.
Rather like an electrical storm in a container. That's what the tables of stone in the Ark
effectively represented. Small wonder it levitated, zapped anyone unfamiliar with how to
handle it, and accomplished all of the miracles it represented! The Ark of the Covenant
was the container for the ORME." Then he became even more precise. "But the
container is not where the power is! It would be like a cannon without ammunition. I
don't think the Jewish Government is going to find any of the 'tables of stone' left in the
Ark. The Templars probably used up the last pieces, accumulating their yellow gold."

"But the Jewish Government might know about the ORME."

Alex smiled. "A distinct possibility. But that's when I fall back on an alternative theory
proposed by Laurence Gardner. Basically, the Ark is nowhere near the Middle East. It
was taken by the Templars and installed in Chartres Cathedral in France. And when I say
installed, I mean in an alternate dimension, one associated with the famous Labyrinth
at Chartres. Basically, the Ark of the Covenant has been taken out of the game -- at
least temporarily and thus no longer subject to political whim."

"That's something of a relief, I suppose," Dawn replied. “But you seem to have two
opposing theories. Doesn’t this seem to bother you?”

“The ability to deal with uncertainty is a pre-requisite for wisdom.” Alex looked very
superior.

"And does that great wisdom tell you why we're here in Axum." Dawn’s smile was far
gentler.

Alex shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. The Mother said one of the three clues was
here. I really have no idea what to expect." He grimaced, as they continued their brisk
walk through Axum, looking for the Sanctuary of the Ark of the Covenant.



The Guardian of the Ark, an Ethiopian monk with an engaging smile and a black beard
spotted with gray, took his job seriously. After considerable discussion at the iron gates
of the sanctuary, it was clear neither Alex nor Dawn was going to be allowed near the
Ark. The appearance and demeanor of several of the local townspeople who happened to
be in the area, suggested to Dawn and Alex that the Axumites were particularly
protective of their guardian, and thus a frontal attack on gaining entry into the holy of
holies was highly unlikely.

There was also the slight problem of the Ark being quite possibly capable of protecting
itself from any but the most reverent supplicants. Finally, there was the language
problem. Dawn was unable to follow most of the conversation, which periodically veered
off in one of several dialects, most of which Alex had no command of at all -- and where
he just smiled and nodded his head.

As they began walking away, Alex was muttering to himself. "I'm missing something
here."

Dawn knew enough not to interrupt his thoughts. She also strongly suspected from her
intuitive probing of the Guardian of the Ark, that the Ark was either long gone, or had not
been approached in years. The latter make sense in that the relic was simply too sacred,
too powerful, and too unpredictable. The former made sense if, in fact, the Ark was now
in some very secret location in Jerusalem, or in another dimension in the environs of
Chartres Cathedral.
At one point, Alex stopped walking and turned to Dawn. "What are you thinking?"

Dawn felt an immediate warm feeling. She liked the idea of Alex asking for her opinion,
the subtle hint of his respect for her. Relishing the moment, she nevertheless focused on
his question. "I basically agree with you. I don't think we're here to see the Ark. I have
serious doubts it's here."

"I don't think it is," Alex replied. "But I figured by asking to see it, and talking about it,
that something, some sign or hint, would crop up in the conversation. If it did, I didn't
pick up on it."

"Maybe we'll have to let the clues arise when they're ready. I don't think we can force
it."

Alex shook his head in agreement. "I rather suspect we've accomplished here all we
can." He turned to her, honestly interested. "What about you?"

Dawn tapped into her intuitive guidance for several minutes, while Alex waited patiently.
Then she turned back toward him. "I think you're right. It's time to go to Egypt."

Alex smiled. "I'll give the good word to Scott."

"Will he take us there?"

"Oh, I'm sure he will," Alex laughed. "For the contents of your bra." As Alex headed
back to the airplane, Dawn gave him a 'you-male-chauvinist swine' look. But then she
laughed, thinking it might in fact be a good idea to unload some of the gold she kept
carrying around. Together they walked back to the landing place.



Scott required six gold coins for the flight to Egypt. The Egyptian air defense was
considerably better than the relatively disorganized one of Ethiopia (due to all the
continuing fighting and flexible battle grounds moving from one area to another). It was
also better than Kenya's, the Kenyans being a lot more laid back about the idea of
defending a border. From Scott's viewpoint, Egypt also implied legal complications:
entry visas. Alex and Dawn were warned bribes might be considerable. And depending
on their bad luck at possibly encountering an official who also happened to be a religious
fundamentalist, bribes might not even be a possibility. When Alex pointed out they had
visas (which had been included with their fake passports), Scott replied that he did not
have an approved flight plan. They would likely have to trust to the old emergency
landing routine.

Once in the air and approaching the Ethiopian/Sudanese frontier far to the east of
Khartoum, Alex began to talk. "Scott," he said, "I'm trying to make some connections.
Is there anything about Axum you know of that doesn't relate to the Ark of the
Covenant?"

Scott thought for a moment. "Not really. There is a lot of what might be Templar
influence in Ethiopia, some of the churches carved out of solid rock in the Croix patte
design, for example. But I have to believe the Templars were in Ethiopia primarily for
the Ark. Whether of not either of them stayed is another question"

After a brief pause, he added, "The Ark is clearly connected to the Jewish Temple on
Elephantine, and Elephantine has some strange connections." Suddenly, Scott had an
errant thought. "Wait a minute! The design of the Temple! Isaac Newton!" A quick
smile flashed on his face, "He's one of my countrymen, you know. And he once made an
intensive study of the design of the Temple of Solomon, even learning Hebrew in order to
research the oldest texts. He said something to the effect that for him to know the
temple design was for him to know 'the mind of God'. Newton was really into sacred
geometry and ancient architecture. He was also quite an astrologer." Scott laughed.
"Something the modern, mainstream physicists don't like to talk about! Their patron
saint, an astrologer! Imagine!"

"Something about the architecture," Alex mused.

"What was that Old Boy," Scott asked, not quite hearing Alex's musings.

"The sacred geometry, the design of the temples," Alex answered.

"Oh yes," Scott quickly answered. "Architecture and architects were greatly honored in
the ancient world. Imhotep the Builder, for example, the creative genius behind the
Zoser complex, first dynasty pyramid, etceteras, was considered to be Sage, Sorcerer,
Architect, High Priest, Astronomer, and Doctor. He was even considered to be the 'image
and likeness of Thoth', or the 'successor to Thoth, after the deity had ascended to
heaven'."

Scott suddenly had another smile. "Come to think of it, Moses was also compared to
Thoth. There was a second century BC work by a Judaeo-Greek philosopher named
Artapanus, who wrote an entire work on comparing Moses and Thoth." Scott abruptly
laughed. "Maybe Thoth gave Moses the design for the Ark of the Covenant!"

"Weren't most all of the ancient kings and prophets also associated with some god?"

"For the most part," Scott answered. "Until before the time of Alexander the Great,
virtually no major figure ever claimed credit for doing anything without referencing some
god or goddess. The deities were quite ubiquitous in their open dealings with all the
major events of mankind. It was after Alexander's death in 323 B.C. that the gods and
goddesses appeared to have ceased their constant meddling in human affairs. So it's
not surprising anything prior to Alexander would link every major human with some god.
In fact, you can probably go back as far as 600 B.C. to find a notable lack of the so-
called gods and/or goddesses directing traffic in the ancient world."

Dawn looked back at Alex. Seeing her questioning expression, he shook his head, his
shoulders drooping slightly. "I'm still not getting it," he muttered.

Dawn turned back to face forward, her own intuitive sense probing the universe for an
answer. The basic answer she received was something on the order of 'wait'. Not
particularly comforting for the 'I-want-it-now' crowd, but okay for one comfortable with
mystery. Dawn tried to smile. She rather preferred to think of herself in the latter
category -- at least, in her better moments.

Her eyes still closed, she decided to meditate for a while. Maybe something would come
through. Scott seemed to sense the conversations were over for the moment, and took
the time to do a little navigating. His efforts were rewarded when a section of the Nile,
between Adarama and Abu Hamad in the Sudan, came into view. 'It's always nice,' he
thought, 'to have a landmark occasionally when one is flying over the Nubian Desert.
Very comforting, in fact.' Scott could also now look forward to following the road from
Abu Hamad to the Egyptian/Sudanese border, just across the Nile from Abu Simbel. The
rest of the trip would be snap. Heather had done Scott proud yet once again.
The Wheel of Fortune

Chapter Nineteen

Heather was capable of performing unusual feats, like pretending to have problems
sufficient to convince the lone Egyptian air controller at Abu Simbel of the necessity of
landing on the airstrip near the ancient, southern gateway to Egypt. As it turned out,
however, a single gold coin was also necessary to allow for the landing, time for 'repair',
and Heather's refueling. Two additional coins for the official were necessary for Egyptian
entry stamps on Alex and Dawn's passports, as well as arranging for two seats on the
return flight of the tourist plane which would be arriving from Aswan within the hour. In
the interim, Alex and Dawn could visit Abu Simbel just like any other tourist.

The two newly designated tourists spent most of the hour before the tourist plane's
arrival, saying their good byes to Scott (and Heather). He had been obligated to make a
pretense of repairing his aircraft, and had then been encouraged to get in the air and fly
south prior to the 727's arrival. In the interim, the three had some pleasant moments.
They had become somehow connected in their brief time together, and the parting was
not without some regret. Scott even dropped his English reserve long enough to give
Dawn an affectionate hug, if not a moderately brief one. He had then taxied, taken off,
and flown south out of sight before Dawn was ready to return her attentions exclusively
to Alex. The two of them then began walking toward the man-made mountain which
now housed Abu Simbel.

The original temple at Abu Simbel had been carefully aligned to the Equinox sunrise so as
to admit the sun into its innermost chambers and there illuminate the figures of the god
and goddess residing therein. The four massive figures and the interior temple had been
built, supposedly, by Ramses II of the XIX dynasty of ancient Egypt. According to
Immanuel Velikovsky's revised chronology, however, it was built sometime between
650 and 600 B.C.E. (or about 1250 B.C.E. in the traditional dating).

Abu Simbel had the apparent function of informing any army or intruders floating down
the Nile toward Egypt that they had just entered a land where the powers-that-be had
the resources to construct a very impressive temple, and they might want to think twice
about invading. The King's temple sported four 67 foot high statues of Ramses II, along
with smaller figures interspersed between his legs representing members of the
immediate royal family. At the Queen's temple, a few hundred feet north of the King's
shrine, six smaller statues stood, four of Ramses II and two of Nefretari. The overall
effect was one of massive strength and power.

In the nineteen sixties, when modern day Egypt decided they needed a massive
hydroelectric dam at Aswan, it became apparent Abu Simbel would soon be underwater
as the Nile backed up behind the giant dam. The massive edifice of Abu Simbel was then
raised 200 feet and relocated on higher ground. An artificial mountain was constructed
such that the temperatures backing the two temples would be maintained within their
original range. It was these rebuilt temples Alex and Dawn visited.
Inside the King's temple, minutes ahead of the plane load of other tourists, Alex and
Dawn wandered about looking at the prolific carvings on the interior walls. Alex, having
visited the site once before, began explaining some of the meanings. "Much of this
represents Ramses' victory at the Battle of Kadesh of which he was quite proud. The
Battle between him and the Hittites was probably inconclusive, but Ramses was never above a little
revisionist history. The Battle, also referred to as the Battle of Carchemish, occurred
roughly 605 B.C.E."

Dawn smiled knowingly, "Is that the official date?"

Alex laughed. "Plus or minus 600 years. Actually, I think the official date is somewhere
around 1185 B.C.E. But if you use that date, then Queen Hatshepsut was not the Queen
of Sheba."

"And that would be a problem?" Dawn gently asked.

"Queen Hatshepsut took a well publicized trip to the land of Punt. But there is no hint in
any of the archaeological records of where Punt was. During the eighteenth dynasty,
around 1500 B. C.E., there was nothing even resembling something called Punt. This is
more the time of Moses. As for the Queen of Sheba, there is no place faintly resembling
the land of Sheba at the time of Solomon." Alex took a deep breath. "There are dozens
of other inconsistencies in the mainstream Egyptian chronology. All of them can be
solved, if you use Velikovsky's reconstruction."

"I'll take your word for it," Dawn said. Alex looked skeptical, but said nothing more.
Then, Dawn began looking at the carved images in detail. That's when she saw the
image of Ramses II, sporting an erection somewhat the size of the average conquered
enemy of Egypt. She stepped back, her eyes wide. Then she turned to Alex, who was
smiling at her.

"After all the killing in the wars," Alex answered her unspoken question, "the King wanted
his people to know it was time for peace and for replenishing the population. And having
a mostly illiterate people, it seemed a good idea to show them exactly what he wanted
them thinking about."

"Very effective," Dawn replied, as she turned away from Alex to hide the slight blush on
her cheeks. To herself, she made a few remarks about being a silly school girl and
quickly turned to the task of regaining control of her outward emotions. This wouldn't do
at all.



With the arrival of tourists and tourist guides in large numbers, Alex and Dawn began to
walk around in the open air. A slight cloud cover, unusual for the time of year, kept the
surrounding area somewhat cooler than normal. Then as they begin to wander back
toward the airfield, Alex began talking. "In keeping with my tradition of not telling you
anything," Alex kidded, "I should mention something about the Priests of Melchizedek,
the King of Jerusalem, and the Dead Sea Scrolls."

Dawn looked at him, appreciatively. "Good idea," she replied.

"Melchizedek was considered a King of Jerusalem, but incredibly far back in time. The
two words, Melchi and Zedek means, literally 'King of Righteousness'. In fact,
sometimes, Melchizedek is referred to as the King of Salem, with Salem being the second
part of Jeru-salem."
Alex took a deep breath. "Melchizedek supposedly was someone who knew all of the
esoteric mysteries, particularly surrounding the Orme Tree, and from our viewpoint, all
about the mono-atomic elements. The Melchizedek Priesthood that followed him,
therefore, included the priests who kept the knowledge alive down through the
centuries.

"David, our friend back in Phoenix, believes -- and I agree with him -- that it was the
Melchizedek priests who were responsible for the Dead Sea Scrolls, and for being the
ones who kept alive the esoteric mysteries concerning the Orme. Their sect became
known as the Essenes, and at some point, when Jerusalem was being decimated in one
of its periodic destructions, it was the Essenes who went out into the desert and founded
the community of Qumran. The Melchizedek priesthood, according to The Dead Sea
Scrolls Uncovered and Hebrews 5:7-10, was integrally involved with the Jesus' Messianic
and eschatological priesthood. Keep in mind the terminology of 'the Righteousness' was
co-joined in the description from Genesis 49:10 of Shiloh, the first major resting place of
the Ark of the Covenant. Notice how it all ties in." Alex smiled contentedly.

"It was at Qumran that the Essenes set up a metallurgical foundry and began producing
the 'occult gold', essentially the mono-atomic precious elements. There are numerous
references to the priests 'swallowing the Teacher of Righteousness'. If the so-called
teacher was the Orme, one can readily understand what they were talking about. For
when one takes the Orme under the right circumstances, one expects to receive visions
and other revelations from the ascended teachers. On the other hand, if the 'Teacher'
was a living person, then it doesn't make a lot of sense."

"Unless it's a forerunner of communion," Dawn interjected.

Alex dismissed the idea. "That's Christianity, not Orthodox Judaism." Then he went back
to his subject. "There is evidence in the ancient literature that Jesus and his family were
members of the Essenes. David Hudson suspects the references to Mary being 'fed by
the white dove', refers to her being fed the Orme powder on a continual basis. Thus
Jesus was born of a woman who was literally enveloped by the light and who was
superconducting like crazy. Jesus' birth was, therefore, truly miraculous. He was in
every respect born a son of God because he was born into the superconducting light!"

"Jesus was taking the 'occult gold'?" Dawn asked.

"Why not? Remember when he reappeared after his ascension? He told his disciples not
to touch him, because he no longer had on his earthly garments. If he was in the
superconducting state, he might have done to his disciples what the Ark did to those who
came into contact with it."

Dawn shook her head. "This is almost too much."

"It does take some getting used to. The big question remaining, however, is whether or
not anyone can swallow the 'Teacher of Righteousness'. And if so, what are the
prerequisites?"

"To take the short route to enlightenment, you mean?" Dawn asked.

Alex shrugged. "Something like that."



The minimal cloud cover had quickly disappeared and Alex and Dawn decided to find
some shade. A small area was set aside for refreshments of which they quickly took
advantage. There were, however, numerous others crowding about and their
conversation slacked off into the more mundane matter of what to do next. The
subsequent boarding of the airplane was about the only event worth mentioning.

It seems as if there had been a mad rush with considerable pushing and shoving during
the original boarding of the airplane in Aswan, as if there had been no hope for enough
seats. In fact, the plane had had four empty seats on the way to Abu Simbel. But all of
the previous passengers had been primed by the first flight, and therefore spent a great
deal of energy beating up on each other in an effort to get aboard first for the return
flight. Alex and Dawn, unprepared for the mad rush, ended up getting on last. There
were still the four empty seats for them, only now, none of the four were adjoining and
the last arrivals were forced to sit separate from one another.

At Aswan, when most of the others deboarded the airplane, Alex and Dawn remained
aboard, ready for the continuation to Luxor/Thebes, the site of Hatshepsut's Temple (aka
the Queen of Sheba's last resting place). Taking advantage of the opportunity, they
were able to sit in two adjacent seats near the front of the aircraft. For a few moments
they had a small amount of privacy.

"I've been thinking," Dawn said, the moment they settled into their new seats. "The
traditional goal of the alchemists of the Middle Ages was supposedly to turn lead into
gold. But what it sounds like now is that the alchemists were simply trying to create the
mono-atomic gold."

"I'm impressed," Alex replied. "That's excellent thinking. And I'm pretty sure you're
right. The alchemists were no fools. They were after the 'Philosopher's Stone', which
might have been identical to the 'tables of stone' Moses brought down from Mount Sinai,
and the 'Elixir of Life', a liquid potion, quite possibly a liquid version of the Orme. I
personally suspect mono-atomic rhodium to be the 'Elixir of Life' and mono-atomic
iridium to be the 'Philosopher's Stone'."

Suddenly turning in his seat and responding with increasing enthusiasm, he added,
"There is a reference in the alchemist trade to advice given to the novice. It was: '
Divide, divide, divide...' When you recall the need to separate the precious elements into
microclusters and then into mono-atomic elements, then the alchemists' creed of
dividing ad infinitum is exactly correct. The alchemists, at least the ones who completed
the Great Work, knew what they were talking about!"

Dawn thought about Alex's explanation for several minutes. Then she turned back to
him. "Did God or one of the Anunnaki give the Orme to Moses?"

Alex shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know for sure, but keep in mind Moses was initially
a member of the Royal house of Egypt. It's also clear the Old and Middle Kingdom
pharaohs and high priests had access to the esoteric mysteries surrounding the process,
and as a prince of Egypt, Moses would have been clued in as well.

"Better yet, when the Israelites left Egypt, Moses went upon the mountain and from the
biblical description of what was going on up on Mount Sinai, it would appear he was
operating his own metallurgical foundry. In fact, Moses was preparing the mono-atomic
elements, the 'tables of stone'. That probably explains why his face was so burnt and
why he had to wear a veil when he came back down. He had been too close to the
intense heat, and quite possibly the radiation from the nuclear processes he was working
with."

"Then, Mount Sinai is a real mountain?"

Alex frowned slightly. "Yes, but the specific identification as to which mountain in the
Sinai Peninsula has been controversial. On the one hand, there is the Mount Sinai of
Exodus 19:11, and on the other hand, Mount Horeb of Exodus 3:1 and 17:6. The latter
is now called mount Serabit, or Serabit el-Khadim. Moses in fact, according to Laurence
Gardner, [1] knew that the Sinai Peninsula was a safe haven when he left Egypt, and
that there was in fact an operative Egyptian temple there.

"This temple was dedicated to the goddess Hathor, an aspect of Isis the Great Mother.
Hathor was traditionally portrayed with horns, the latter which were indicators of
knowledge reception. It was from the milk of Hathor that the pharaohs were said to
have gained their divinity, becoming gods in their own right.

"This is probably equivalent to the ancient Star Fire rituals, where the kings were fed
with the lunar essence of the Anunnaki goddesses. The so-called milk may have
contained an enzyme that was conducive to longevity -- one which today we call
telomerase and known to modern science has having unique anti-ageing properties.
Telomerase, for example, shows up in malignant tumors, as well as reproductive cells.
This allows cells to continue to divide far beyond their naturally restrictive programming
-- which is of course precisely what cancer is all about. The key is that somewhere in our
DNA is the genetic ability to produce this anti-ageing enzyme, but this potential has
somehow been switched off!" [1]

Dawn's face brightened. "And taking the ORME is designed to switch it back on?"

"It appears so," Alex answered. "But you also have to realize the implication of our
DNA's ability to originally produce the anti-ageing enzyme, and the fact that we are not
currently able to do so. It's likely the so-called "junk DNA" which modern science talks
about is anything but junk and could take our species to fantastic new heights."

"And this milk of Hathor was available to Moses?"

"That's not clear," Alex answered. "I know of no records which would confirm that. But
the fact Moses waltzed back down off the mountain with 'tables of stone' strongly
suggests he at least had the condensate version!"

"Which would explain his own longevity and the fact his death is never really recorded."

"Exactly," Alex replied. "But it gets better. In 1904, a fellow named Petrie discovered
the site of Hathor's temple at Serabit el-Khadim." Alex smiled broadly. "What totally
baffled him and his compatriots was the discovery of a metallurgist's crucible and a
considerable amount of pure white powder. In effect, Petrie had found an alchemical
workshop complete with furnaces for producing the sacred fire-stone of the high-spin
shem-an-na -- en enigmatic white powder which the temple priests called the... I'll have
to spell it: m f k z t."

"I've read a lot about ancient Egypt, but I've never heard of anything like that."

Alex shrugged. "It's not surprising. The rules under which Petrie was operating, the so-
called Memorandum and Articles of Association of the Egypt Exploration Fund, prevented
the dissemination of any information, or for that matter any surveys or excavations,
which would not uphold the Biblical narrative -- or at least the narrative as interpreted by
the reigning church authorities. Obviously, this discovery of Hathor's temple did not."

"Well of course not! For one thing it transforms Moses' 'burning bush' into an alchemical
furnace for producing a levitating, longevity-giving, enlightening, and who-knows-what-
else white powder of gold! Right?"
"Right," Alex answered. "Do you see how everything ties in? The ancient pharaohs had
access to the ORME, were in fact producing it in quantity. Therefore, it's particularly
interesting that none of the bodies of the Old Kingdom pharaohs have ever been found.
Not a trace. If they were indeed taking the ORME, they may not have left any bodies to
be found. They may have taken their bodies with them when they ascended, just as
Jesus did."

Dawn looked blank for several minutes. Then swallowing, she asked, "What about the
later pharaohs? Did Ramses have the Orme as well?"

"Probably not," Alex answered simply. "Shortly after the Exodus, Egypt had just lost an
army in the Red Sea and was still suffering from the shocks of the plagues and famines
-- which, by the way, were very real! Egypt was therefore vulnerable, prompting
invaders from Palestine to come into Egypt, conquer it, and promptly put everyone to the
sword -- including the priests who knew about the ORME. Too late, the invaders realized
they had really fouled up. They were never able to duplicate the process, even though
they pretended as if they still knew what was going on."

Alex smiled slightly, "The Egyptians of today are the descendants, for the most part, of
the invaders, and less so, from the original Egyptians -- the original Egyptians who first
brought Joseph and his family into Egypt, and then later enslaved his descendants."

Dawn sat staring at Alex's eyes for several moments. "It really does tie together, doesn't
it?" she replied. "Everything points in the same direction."

"Now you know why I was willing to rush into this project." When Dawn only smiled but
clearly understanding him, Alex added, "It's also why it's important for us to find out
about the Humanki. Are they trying to prevent us from learning the final secrets of the
Alchemists, from taking the ORME, and from going where 'few men have gone before'?
What exactly are their intentions?"

Dawn continued to watch him. "One other question," she said. "If the Mother is Ninki,
the original Sumerian goddess who created man... If there are others like her, other
Anunnaki who are incredibly long lived... Then..." For a moment she paused. "They
could still be alive. The Anunnaki could still be on the planet, pulling strings behind the
scenes..."

Alex could only smile bleakly. "Yes. They could."



Before Dawn and Alex could continue, people began boarding the plane in pretty much
the same style as before. The influx eliminated the last possible moments of privacy,
and the two fell silent, only occasionally mentioning mundane details -- like where they
were next going to be able to sleep. It had been a long day. The flight to Luxor/Thebes
was pleasant enough. But finding a place to sleep seemed considerably more
challenging.

Fortunately, late June is not exactly the height of the Egyptian tourist season. Simply
put, it's too hot! Hotel rooms in Luxor were available, although many would be stiflingly
warm. Fortunately, Alex and Dawn encountered a well-connected taxi-driver at the
airport. The driver held a Ph.D. in Egyptology, but employment being what it was in the
overcrowded nation, the best the man could do for work was acting as an occasional
guide during the height of the tourist season, and alternatively, as a cab driver.

In fact, the man made more money than most employed Egyptian-born Egyptologists by
catering to the whims of rich tourists. For a very goodly tip, the good Doctor was able to
provide a room for Dawn and Alex in one of Luxor's finest. Better yet, it turned out to be
a second floor room, with a balcony looking west across the Nile. With the sun having
gone down two hours prior, a gentle breeze had already begun to cool the room when
Alex and Dawn found refuge there. They were both dog tired, and the twin beds on either
side of the Nile-facing door onto the balcony were particularly inviting.

Unfortunately, they were also both starving, and the hotel restaurant had already closed.

Back on the streets, they went searching for virtually any form of nourishment. But even
in their state of acute hunger, they knew they had to be careful about the quality of the
food. Or at least they thought they had to.

Finally, they found something resembling an American bar on one of the interior streets
of Luxor. They hesitatingly sampled several items of food, until finally they threw caution
to the winds and devoured most everything in sight. Finally satiated, they went back to
their hotel room for an early night.

The possibility of becoming amorous during the night in the same room had occurred to
both of them. But the onset of exhaustion caused them instead to strip down to their
undergarments with little or no adherence to etiquette (it was still quite warm). They
each promptly laid down on their separate beds and quickly fell asleep. The romantic
night with the breeze from the Nile cooling the moonlit air, all held in the arms of an
exotic setting... was completely wasted on them. They slept like logs.



Queen Hatshepsut's Temple is located across the Nile from Luxor. Rising in terraces,
backed up against the cliffs at Deir el Bahri, the Temple consists of a complex of
colonnaded shrines, with two huge, central ramps leading to first one massive plaza, and
then to a second one higher up. The Temple is architecturally quite different from most
of the ancient temples of Egypt, being spread out, in lieu of the tendency of the Egyptian
male pharaohs to build toward the sky. Hatshepsut's site, on the other hand, was
chosen to allow the huge cliffs behind the Temple to provide the grandeur of height,
while her thirty some odd columns on two levels gave the impression of a more
welcoming site for religious observances.

Hatshepsut's rule had been an interesting one. She had begun as regent to her stepson,
Thutmose III. But long before the prince had reached maturity, she had completely
usurped the reins of government. She then often flaunted the trappings of kingship,
going about in male dress and a ceremonial false beard. Her Temple was lavish in the
extreme, and the exploits of her reign were depicted in elaborate carvings along the
porticoes. These included her famous voyage to the Land of Punt, along with her return
with all manner of wondrous gifts -- including an unborn heir.

As Dawn admired the carvings, Alex pointed out that Hatshepsut's expedition had been
by boat. If Hatshepsut had made the trip via the Nile and the southeastern corner of the
Mediterranean, this would support the idea that Israel was the most logical choice for the
Land of Punt.

Queen Hatshepsut also had the distinction of keeping her stepson under her thumb for
many years after his reaching maturity. When she did finally fall from power -- after a
reign of some twenty years -- Thutmose III claimed his throne and then went about
vengefully destroying much of her great memorial and other works. For his part,
Thutmose apparently had it in his mind to erase the face of Hatshepsut from the annals
of history. He was kept in check, but only moderately, by the prohibition against
destroying a now sacred temple.
Ironically, one of the items Thutmose was obliged to refrain from destroying was a great
obelisk the Queen had raised in her honor at Karnak, on the Luxor side of the Nile.
Obelisks were far too sacred to simply be defaced. Thutmose got around this difficulty
by building a stone wall around the obelisk and filling in the space between the obelisk
and stone wall with sand. Thus while not destroying the sacred obelisk, he had
prevented it from being seen by the people. In a strange twist of fate the dry sand very
effectively preserved the obelisk for future generations, and made it one of the best
preserved of all of the Egyptian ruins! Obviously, step-mothers are hard to get rid of.



After hours of walking about the Temple area, with Alex approaching several locals in the
area, asking questions and, in general, trying to grasp what The Mother had in mind
when she had told him to visit the Temple of the Queen of Sheba, the two of them set
down on one of the stone walls. As they sat in the ever brightening sun, Alex made
several grunts of general disgust.

Dawn tried to lighten the mood. "No inspiration, huh?"

"None. I mean, I can see the connection between Axum and Hatshepsut's Temple;
they're both part of the Ark of the Covenant saga. They connect Moses with Solomon
and Sheba, and even the aftermath of the union of Solomon and Sheba when the Ark left
Israel, did a bit in Egypt, and then ended up in Ethiopia. And who knows; maybe now in
France. But what do the pyramids of Giza have to do with all of this?"

"Why Giza?" Dawn asked.

"Because," Alex answered offhandedly, "The Mother mentioned Marduk's prison, and the
Great Pyramid at Giza was where Marduk, the Egyptian god Ra, was imprisoned for a
time after he attempted a coup among the Anunnaki. This happened about 3100 B.C.
But I can't see where this ties in."

Alex took a deep breath, expressing his discontent. Then, he added, "There's also the
question of Horus. The white ORME is called 'The golden tear from the eye of Horus'.
It's the almost universal symbol associated with Horus now, the idealized Egyptian eye
and the single tear. That would have connected with the mono-atomic elements Moses
may have been working with, but there's no other connection. And Horus eventually lost
the throne of Egypt after what Zacharia Sitchin called, 'The Second Pyramid War.' This
war occurred around 8,300 B.C.! The fact of the matter is that Horus was long gone by
the time of the Sumerian Civilization! Except of course, for some hold-outs among his
followers and eventually his religious cult."

For several moments, the two continued to sit. Then Alex began voicing his frustration.
"I feel like I've been left hanging in the wind, as if I'm on some Wheel of Fortune,
experiencing the ups and downs, the highs and lows, one after the other."

"But a wheel of fortune," Dawn replied, "Implies rewards or opportunities, changes for
the better. Or at least, success after taking a calculated risk."

"Perhaps," Alex replied, clearly not convinced.

The conversation again waned, until Dawn, hesitatingly, suggested, "Looks as if it's time
to visit the Great Pyramid of Giza. Maybe we can find something there."

Alex slowly shook his head. "You're probably right. Maybe we can sleep in the King's
chamber. That ought to be good for some major inspiration."
Dawn involuntarily shuddered. If the Great pyramid of Teotihuacan was any indication
after their brief mediation there, sleeping in the Great Pyramid of Giza ought to really
blow their minds!



The flight from Luxor to Cairo was uneventful, save for Dawn catching her dress on an
old woman's carry-on luggage. The luggage was new, but recently damaged, and a
small portion of the wheels on which the little old lady wheeled her essentials about the
airport caught Dawn's dress during the deboarding. The result was another torn dress
for Dawn, and the contents of the woman's case being dumped on to the floor of the
airplane (the woman had been doing some last minute stuffing of the case while
everyone was trying to get off the airplane). The contents ended up in the aisle, which
slowed the deboarding. This resulted in a minor panic by passengers further back in the
plane and they began shoving forward with more aggression. This surge effectively
prevented Dawn or Alex from going back to apologize, or even acknowledge there had
been a problem. Instead, they acted as if nothing had happened and led the crowd off
the airplane.

The flight had been a late afternoon one from Luxor, the only one available. Considering
the time, Alex proposed and Dawn accepted the idea of going directly to the pyramids
while it was still light. They did so, arriving about dusk. Most of the pyramid tourists
were gone save for those who were on their way to the small pavilion in front of the
Sphinx where light shows were regularly performed after dark. The only others in the
area were a small group of some eight men and women, of varying ages, who seemed
unaccountably excited about something or another.

As Alex went off to see if he could bribe a guard into letting them into the pyramid for
the night, Dawn struck up a conversation with the group of eight. She quickly learned
the group was from Crestone, Colorado and had already managed to obtain official
permission to spend the night inside the pyramid. Dawn then suggested she join them.

This apparently was "not a real possibility." The King's chamber was not that large, and
the group had some very specific ceremonies to conduct. Having two strangers among
them might not work out. They had no objection to Alex and Dawn being in the pyramid
at the same time, but not in the all critical King's chamber. There would simply not be
enough room.

But the Queen's chamber was another matter. Located slightly below and to the side of
the King's chamber, the Queen's chamber was directly under the apex of the pyramid.
The King's chamber, located at the end of the Ascending Corridor and the Grand Gallery,
was slightly off center of the pyramid's apex. But it was a much more popular spot, and
considerably larger. Just the thing for a group of eight. The Queen's chamber, on the
other hand, was better suited for a twosome!

By the time Alex returned, complaining about some group preempting his plans, Dawn
had the deal worked out. It did require a small, change-in-plans bribe of the guard, but
within the hour, all ten of the pyramid devotees began the short climb up the side of the
Great Pyramid to the place, where hundreds of years ago, organized bandits had begun
tunneling inside. Not totally ignorant, the grave robbers had cut through solid rock and
rather quickly come upon the Descending Corridor. The Group of Eight (Plus Two) now
entered through the same cave-like entryway, and found their way to the same pyramid
passageway. Meanwhile, the guard closed and locked the gate behind them -- they
were, after all, slated to spend the entire night, and no provisions had been made for an
early and/or emergency exit.
Fortunately, none of the ten had such thoughts as they moved slowly down to where the
Descending Corridor met the Ascending Corridor. Everyone then began moving upward
at a gentle slope toward the center of the pyramid. Alex did make some comment about
someday wanting to continue down the Descending Corridor to the room located several
hundred feet into the bedrock. Supposedly, it was in this lowermost chamber that the
pyramid initiation rites were begun. The King and Queen's Chambers were the
secondary and tertiary initiation rooms.

The group quickly reached the Grand Gallery, a sloping room 153 feet long and 28 feet
high. The space is the largest open area within the Great Pyramid, and is very
impressive. Steps and a railing had been installed in modern times, but the effect of
looking up the long ascent was still breath taking. This was also where Alex and Dawn
were to take their leave. The Queen's Chamber was located along a horizontal
passageway branching off at the base of the Grand Gallery, while the King's Chamber
was located at the upper end. The eight went their own way and began climbing up the
stairs of the Grand Gallery, amidst whispered good byes and murmured good wishes.
(There's something about the Great Pyramid that does not encourage loud voices or
shouting. Probably has to do with the potential for annoying echoes in the dense
passageways.)

Alex and Dawn then made their way along the branch passageway, heading for the
Queen's chamber. Electric lights, strung long ago for the tourist trade, aided their
progress. But inasmuch as far fewer tourists frequented the Queen's Chamber, the
lighting was noticeably less adequate. Alex had acquired a small pen light, but it was
assumed this would be mostly ineffectual, and definitely insufficient in terms of staying
power (i.e. batteries). As they approached the Queen's Chamber, Alex felt compelled to
point out, "You realize we may be in the prime location, don't you?"

"Why is that?" Dawn answered, thinking that being encased under thousands of tons of
rock was never a "prime location."

"The names of the King's and Queen's Chambers were derived from the Muslim tradition
of burying their men under flat roofs and their women under pitched roofs. The King's
Chamber has a flat roof and the Queen's, a pitched roof. But there's no reason to believe
the larger chamber is better. In fact, the Queen's Chamber is more centrally located and
believed to be the more advanced stage in the initiation rites. Thus, we may have the
better accommodations!"

"I had already assumed that," Dawn replied. "Just knowing it was the Queen's Chamber
instead of some nasty old king."

Alex grinned. "Well, I for one, have always preferred to spend my nights in a Queen's
chamber." Dawn rolled her eyes and declined to reply as they entered into the Queen's
chamber. Immediately, Alex began checking the walls and layout for any clues. Mostly
to himself, he asked, "I wonder where that number is written."

"What number?" Dawn asked, not realizing Alex had not been talking to her.

"2520," Alex replied, absently. "It's supposed to be carved on an Egyptian pyramid."

Dawn looked at Alex, puzzled by his comment. "What's significant about 2520?"

"It's the smallest number which is divisible evenly by all the numbers from one to nine."

Dawn looked blank for several seconds, thinking on the latest of Alex's unending trivial
pursuits. But before she requested further enlightenment, it abruptly got darker. The
electric lights went out in accordance with the schedule of the group of eight. Somewhat
better equipped with portable lighting, they had requested the lights to go off once they
were set up inside for the night. It was felt they could not accomplish their aims without
the darkness. The lights went off prematurely and considerably ahead of schedule, but
the group of eight was determined to make do.

Alex and Dawn, however, had missed that item on the agenda about the lights and
suddenly found themselves in a very profound darkness. We're talking totally black! No
slivers of light slipping through the cracks of a nearby, convenient window or door. Just
totally dark! A photographic darkroom to meet the most stringent requirements.

The effect of the sudden darkness was a momentary surge of panic for both of them, and
Dawn responded by stepping in the direction of where Alex had just been. Unbeknownst
to her, he had done the equivalent thing toward her and they abruptly knocked heads
together. Recoiling as much from the collision, as from his eagerness to not appear
overly aggressive, Alex tripped and lost his balance and began to fall to one side. As he
did so, he instinctively reached out to steady himself against whatever was available, and
in the process managed to catch Dawn's blouse and bra in his downward fall, causing
both to open up. Dawn was simply stunned, as Alex, now on the floor, managed to turn
on the pen light. It was immediately clear what he had managed to accomplish in a
mere few seconds.

Dawn looked down at him, holding her blouse closed. "You might want to improve your
technique on bra unfastening, Alex. That time was a little rough."

"Oh, sorry," Alex replied. "I didn't mean..." His voice trailed off, there not being a lot to
say under the circumstances.

Then the two took their last minute acquisitions of two Egyptian blankets and tried to
settle in for the night. An unspoken agreement decreed they would sleep next to each
other and stay in touch, so to speak. It can be very lonely in the Queen's chamber with
several thousand tons of rock overhead.

Alex, however, inadvertently took the idea of staying in touch to its logical extreme, and
early in the evening, managed to lay a hand on one of Dawn's recently exposed breasts.
He also failed to immediately remove said hand, although the variation in softness from
the rest of her body should have given him a small clue. Dawn took in a breath, and
asked in a stilted voice, "Excuse me. But is that your hand on my breast?"

Alex then figured it out. Jerking his hand away, he said, "Oh, sorry." Then to ease any
fears she might have had, he added, "I'm okay now."

Dawn's curt reply was, "Don't count on it."



When in Cairo, the very best place to stay, the most comfortable, even in summer, is
NOT the Queen's (or King's) Chamber. Two of the group of eight, went into
claustrophobic panic early in the evening, rather seriously dampening the expectations of
the others for intensive enlightenment. Meanwhile, the group of two managed a period
of uneventful meditation, followed by a somewhat fitful night. Until finally, exhaustion
set in, and they simply slept.

And in their sleep, they dreamed -- which inevitably is where all of the action was.

Dawn's first vision was herself back in what she was now thinking of as her own personal
crop circle. Feeling as if she were in a sand box forming castles of her own design, she
began to add to the evolving crop circle configuration with the gentle wave of her hand.
For long moments, she felt the incredible contentment of leisurely creating a thing of
profound beauty. Abruptly, a new sensation came to her. In a flash, seemingly at warp
speed, she felt herself by her own volition, streaking through the skies, across Europe
and the Mediterranean Sea, and approaching the Great Pyramid. There she alighted and
laid down on the floor of the Queen's Chamber. It was now time for the main event.

Suddenly, she found herself in a sea of light. She rose up, leaving her body laying on the
hard rock floor, and began to swim through the pyramid as if it were a shower of rainbow
colored light. She drifted and floated until she came upon a place of golden beams,
where currents of emotion began flowing throughout her body like warm streams of
honey. Here she sensed the incredible oneness of the universe. Visions began flashing
in her mind, illuminating her, but coming so rapidly as to defy a conscious grasp of
them. They were simply laid there for later retrieval by her conscious mind. Layer upon
layer of thoughts were presented as messages upon a blank slate. Then, after an out-of-
time period and sensing the completion of the messages, Dawn became aware of Alex's
essence, the aspect of him which was eternal and only occasionally occupying the
physical body known as Alexander Dukas.

In their out-of-body state, both became intently aware of the other. With perfect
telepathy, they knew each other's thoughts. Slowly they flowed into one another,
making love on a plane outside of time and space. Love making in the realm of pure love
and light.

And then an orgasm unlike any Dawn had ever experienced. A sacred orgasm, it was
extended in time, intense beyond words, and seemingly constantly mounting in
amplitude. Dawn felt her whole body surge in every direction at once. And then as her
breathing slowly returned to normal, as the experience slowly lessened its overwhelming
grip on every fiber of her being, a sudden thought occurred to her: 'How was it my
physical body was having such an orgasm if I was out-of-body?'

For a moment, she laid there, fully returned from the out-of-body state and wholly within
her body. 'Hadn't the love making been a dream?' she wondered. 'It had felt very real,
even if more intense than ever. But did we make love in the traditional way? Or was it
just part of the out-of-body experience?' For several minutes, she groped for answers,
only to come up blank. She laid there, very conscious of Alex's heavy and apparently
satisfied breathing. It wasn't totally clear to her what had just happened, but she was
going to be doing a lot of thinking about it. Well, maybe later. Right now, she was going
to luxuriate in the afterglow. Soon she was sleeping again.



The lights came on an hour before sunrise. The officials figured it was best to hurry out
the crazy Americans, and get ready for another day of herding tourists through the maze
of vendors and pyramid guides. For Dawn and Alex, it was a shock after the incredible
night. Then as they managed to return to the world of the living, they began to
remember. For several moments, they looked at each other, knowing, or at least
suspecting, what had happened.

Alex took the chivalrous route. "Something of an incredible night, wouldn't you say?"

Dawn was slightly more direct. "One of the most wonderful I could have imagined."

Alex smiled, assuming her words to be complimenting him. Dawn meanwhile, started to
get up. That's when she felt the muscles in her body make their first complaints of the
sleeping accommodations and evening activities. "Oh my," she groaned. "Time to pay
the piper, I suppose." Slowly she managed to stand. Naturally, her blouse with the
buttons removed the night before and her broken bra, both flew open as she stood up
and stretched. Alex had been looking directly at her. His expression was instantly one of
surprise, delight and embarrassment -- all mixed together -- as he quickly looked away.
(I.e. he looked away after a detailed engraving of the vision onto his mind's permanent
memory storage facility.)

Dawn quickly pulled herself back together -- as best she could. She wanted to say,
'Shit!', but somehow the exclamation didn't seem quite appropriate within the sacred
precinct of the pyramids. And when she could think of nothing better to say, she decided
to leave it at that. Picking up her blanket, she draped it across one shoulder and held
the other corner at her waist by slipping it through her belt. Then draped for the outside
world, she started out the horizontal corridor, following Alex, who had unilaterally
decided to lead and not look back!

Outside, while awaiting transportation and avoiding the group of eight former friends who
were suddenly at each other's throats for what was referred to several times as 'the
worst night of my life!', Alex and Dawn began to talk about their quest and any
illumination they might have received.

"I've been thinking," Alex began. "We know from Sitchin's work that in the First Pyramid
War, Horus defeated Seth and took over the throne of Egypt. But that was mostly a
family squabble, wholly within Enki's descendants.

"But in the Second Pyramid War, the Enlilite forces led by Ninurta defeated the forces of
Enki's sons in what had become an increasingly bloody affair. They had even reached
the point of some serious warfare, where there was the possibility of Anunnaki dying
instead of just the humans they were using for cannon fodder. It was then that Ninki
intervened as the peacemaker. I suspect her motives were as much to save her human
progeny, as to prevent the Anunnaki gods from seriously decimating their ranks."

"That rather sounds like Ninki," Dawn observed.

"I agree," Alex said. Taking a breath, he added, "According to the Sumerian texts, Ninki
managed to convince the apparent victors, Ninurta and the others, to discontinue the
bloodshed and create a peace. It was then determined in the negotiations that Enki's
line would be allowed to keep Africa including Egypt and the all important area of Giza
and the pyramids. But only under the provision that Horus, his line, and the other
Anunnaki who had participated in the war on Horus' side, would never again rule Egypt.
Never!

"Enki agreed, and announced that another of his sons, Ningishzida, would take over
Egypt. This was fine with Ninurta and Enlil. In fact, they both rather liked Ningishzida --
about the only member of Enki's camp they did like. But here's what I suddenly
remembered last night: Ningishzida, Egypt's new ruler, is the Sumerian name for the
Egyptian god, Thoth."

Alex smiled. "Now... Around 3100 B.C., Ra, the Sumerian Marduk, Enki's first son,
attempted a coup in Babylon, trying to unseat the Enlilites from their power base. Ra
failed miserably, and escaped to Egypt. There he deposed his younger brother, Thoth!
But it was also then, around the same time, that Ra found himself sealed in the Great
Pyramid. There was a fair chance he was going to die there. Eventually, they dug him
out, but he was for the most part finished -- at least for the time being.

"Meanwhile, Thoth, bereft of a throne in Egypt, was off to Central America in the guise of
Quetzalcoatl. There he began another kind of dynasty. He may even have been involved
with Stonehenge. Ningishzida was definitely one of Enki's better sons! He was
sometimes described as the scribe of the gods. He's also, quite possibly, the same as
the Greek god, Hermes."

"But what happened in Egypt?"

"Apparently, for some 350 years thereafter, chaos reigned. All the way until the time of
Menes, the first pharaoh of the First dynasty, who then united all of Egypt."

"And Thoth? Or Ningishzida?" Dawn asked.

Alex smiled. "Remember what Scott told us. Moses and Thoth were connected in some
profound way. Thoth may have been his teacher! The way I figure it, the Anunnaki god
we're looking for is not Horus. It's Thoth." Alex smiled broadly. "Or Ningishzida.
Quetzalcoatl! Whatever you want to call him. It's the same man, or rather the same
Anunnaki god."

"Fantastic!" Dawn exclaimed. Then her enthusiasm abruptly waned. "But where?"

Alex grimaced. "Haven't quite figured that one out yet."

Dawn's smile faded, as she became quiet to think. Then her eyes began to light up.
"Alex," she began, "Moses carried the knowledge given him by Thoth, and placed it in the
Ark of the Covenant, right?" When Alex agreed, she added, "Then when the Ark was
taken from Jerusalem by Menelik, the son of Solomon and Sheba, he first took it to the
island of Elephantine. There they built a Temple with the same design as Solomon's.
Why on that particular island, do you suppose?"

Alex's blank look slowly transformed into one of delight. "Because," he replied, the
words forming in his mouth simultaneously with the thoughts forming in his mind.
"Because Thoth was at Elephantine!"

____________________________

[1] See, for example, Laurence Gardner, Genesis of the Grail Kings, Bantam Press,
London, 1999, Chapter 19.
The Magician

Chapter Twenty

Elephantine is at Aswan, and Alex and Dawn quickly made the flight back to the modern
city. From there they made their way to the diggings at Elephantine, where they began
to wander about, trying to pick up clues as to what to do next. They were looking for the
local head archaeologist when they ran into Sisi! The younger woman ran up to them
with total abandon, yelling "Alex! Dawn!" Then she asked, "Where you guys been?"

"What the hell!?" Alex exclaimed, totally shocked to see her. "How did you get here?"

Sisi was at first taken back by Alex's less than cordial welcome. Then, shrugging it off,
she said, "It occurred to me from what you told me about The Mother, that the Sheba
and Axum clues were about the Ark of the Covenant. I then figured Giza was about
Thoth, and that the best place to look for him would be here. Why? Where have you
been?"

Alex was astonished by Sisi's capabilities, apparently having arrived at the same
conclusion but more swiftly than either Alex or Dawn. Dawn, meanwhile, explained to
Sisi, "We were sleeping in the Great Pyramid." Then as Sisi registered her own surprise,
Dawn reached over to embrace the other woman. As they stepped back, Alex
remembered himself and hugged Sisi as well.

With the greetings over, Sisi eagerly asked, "So how was it: your night in the pyramid?"

After a momentary awkward moment, Alex replied, "I'll tell you about it later. What
about now? Have you any clues as to where Thoth might be?"

Sisi smiled. "I've spent a little time with one of the archaeologists who are digging
around here." Both Alex and Dawn brightened, knowing any archaeologist would have
little hope against the likes of Sisi -- the man undoubtedly providing her with everything
for which she might have asked. "They told me about some old dude hereabouts, and
gave me some approximate directions. I was on my way there when you guys showed
up." She smiled broadly. "Want to join me?"

"Sure," Alex replied, admittedly out of his element. "Show us the way."

The three of them struck off in a direction somewhat resembling the one given her by the
enamored archaeologist (the one who hadn't seen a lot of women in several months and
who had never seen a woman like Sisi). As the three walked along the dusty, sandy
streets, Sisi said, "So, tell me really. How was the night in the pyramid?" For a moment,
she waited. "Pretty fantastic?"

Alex and Dawn just looked at each other and shook their heads.
Sisi looked at each one in turn, and then said, "Oh, I get it! You're both being shy."
Then to make it all right, she added, primarily as an observation, "That's cute."



Finding Sisi's "Dude" was relatively easy. Once they were on the right street, they came
across a small estate, set within a white, stucco, roughly 12 foot high, walled enclosure.
The immediate impression was a building with a structure well designed and maintained,
but one where external cleanliness was not of primary importance. It had clearly once
been a substantial residence, and while the stucco showed not a single brick nor a crack
along any exterior wall, the walls were dirty with occasional graffiti. It was a place
capable of being used as a fortress, and one in which aesthetics seemed secondary. It
was simply an enclave, but one which did not advertise the fact -- an isolated estate with
not a single wall from adjacent buildings encroaching upon it. The latter aspect tended
to give it a singularity, as the rule of the village seemed to be all buildings being set
adjacent to one another, with common walls, and occasionally a street to break up the
monotony. This small estate, however, was set apart by narrow streets and alleyways on
all four sides.

Three of the sides faced something resembling a street, but there was nothing to suggest
an entry or opening. When the threesome completed their circumscribing of the
structure and began walking down the last alley, they found the heavy wooden gate --
which, amazingly enough, was slightly ajar. Next to it was a small bell, set some nine or
ten feet off the ground, with a short remnant of a cord attached. The bottom of the
truncated cord was perhaps eight feet off the ground -- as if intended to discourage short
people from ringing the bell. Alex was considering jumping in order to grab the cord,
when Sisi shoved the heavy wooden gate further open and brazenly stepped inside.
Dawn followed her, and then Alex -- shrugging his shoulders in disbelief.

Inside, they found a small garden patio with fig trees and what looked like an incredibly
small, grape vineyard. Herbs and other small plants grew in small plots, carefully
separated by stone and mortar walls -- the plots all at different levels, shapes, and
configurations. Adjacent and just beyond the patio was a columned porch with the
suggestion of openings in the shaded gloom.

The three intruders stood by the gate for several moments, until from behind one of the
trees they saw a large Egyptian woman lean to one side in order to better see the new
arrivals. Her expression was a combination of surprise and outrage at the intrusion.

"Hello," Sisi addressed her. "Can you help us? We're looking for someone."

The woman said nothing, but moved more into view keeping her eyes on the threesome.
Her substantial bulk -- much of which was probably muscle -- became more apparent as
she did so. Alex and Dawn made a mental note not to cross this woman, while Sisi
assumed the problem was one of language. She then repeated herself in barely passable
French. But the woman only cocked her head to one side, to see them more out of her
peripheral vision, as if trying to find a different viewpoint.

Suddenly, another voice spoke -- low, deep and indefinable as to its intentions. "If you
only speak English or bad French, she probably can't help you." Everyone, including the
woman turned to see a tall male figure at one end of the shaded porch. He wore a white
Egyptian tunic, but was otherwise hidden by the shadows. But even being only partially
visible, there was an air about the figure that was faintly ominous. As if he carried an
elephant gun in a relaxed position.

Sisi managed to say, "We're looking for someone," just before she became intimidated
and her mental processes took a temporary backseat. Suffice it to say, Sisi becoming
speechless was an exceedingly rare event. But then again the figure in the shadows
could easily have stopped a bull Rhinoceros in mid charge. Alex was shaken as well by
the man's appearance, and was not about to speak.

Dawn’s response was more reactive, her mind resorting to activating her best line of
defense: her intuition. Individuals with extrasensory powers almost always developed
them initially as a defensive measure -- typically in childhood and as a defense against
physical or emotional abuse. Dawn had been no different, and now probed the man's
mind with all the power at her command. Almost instantly, she saw a depth she had
never before encountered; a depth both in time and in the sheer immensity of the man's
knowledge, wisdom and experience. Then almost as quickly, she felt her access abruptly
shut down. For several long moments she could only sense surprise and intrigue, and
vague interest in at least one of the intruders into his house.

The momentary silence was broken by the dark figure. "Who are you looking for?" he
asked, his tone still disguising any untoward interest he might have had in the answer.

Dawn spontaneously blurted out, "Ningishzida."

The tenseness of the situation was abruptly broken as the man seemed to find the
answer quite entertaining. He almost laughed aloud, but just the sharp intake of breath
and his head thrown back was enough to ease his intimidating stance. With an almost
casual gesture, he stepped forward to place one hand on the nearest column, stepping
further into the light. Only his face remained in the shadow. But a smile could still be
discerned. "And who," he replied, "asks for Ningishzida?"

Dawn noticed the man's pronunciation of 'Ningishzida' was slightly different from her
own, but managed to introduce herself and her two companions. She could feel a
recognition from the man as she spoke each of the names, but it was fleeting and very
subtle. She couldn't be sure. She therefore added, "The Mother sent us here."

The man remained silent, evaluating them. Then he seemed to make a decision. He
began walking along the porch, his head still in the shadows. As he approached one of
the darkened openings, he gestured for them to approach. "Come in out of the heat," he
invited them. Then, using an old saying from India, "Only mad dogs and Englishmen run
about in the midday sun."

Dawn led the other two into the shadows and followed the man inside the building. At
first, they could barely see anything, their eyes still adjusting to the relative darkness.
The interior was dimly lit as well, with only the dulled reflections of the bright sun off the
dirty walls giving any light. Slowly, however, they began to see with more clarity. Dawn
realized they were in a room whose ceiling was easily ten feet high. Then her attention
was drawn to their guide as he finished the process of somehow unlocking a set of
double doors, and began opening them.

The doors, some eight feet high, opened to reveal another even darker room, but with
two intricately carved spherical bronze lamps giving off enough light through their carved
openings to dimly bathe the room with a mosaic of light. The internal light source was
apparently either candles or some other form of flames, as the lights flickered with some
degree of randomness. Dawn could barely see the decor of the room itself, catching only
glimpses of what might have been a throne or altar directly facing the doors they had
just come through, along with wall paintings resembling the interior of Egyptian tombs.

As the three entered the room, quietly and reverently, Dawn realized the man had
stepped aside for them, and was now closing the doors behind them. Then he returned
to his leadership position. All four moved closer to the throne/altar, until the man
gestured for them to stand still. Then he walked over and took up a position slightly to
the side, facing the space between the three supplicants and the empty throne/altar.
Dawn was immediately struck by the resemblance of the positioning of everyone from
the time of Alex and her audience with The Mother at Machu Picchu.

A voice then began to speak, sounding to Dawn like a deeper resonance of the man who
had brought them into the holy of holies, but coming, apparently, from the direction of
the throne. Only marginally addressed to them, it began to recite in a detached voice, as
if reading from a scripture.

"Saith Osiris Ani, triumphant: O grant to me thy two hands that I may pass the time in
the Island of flame. Give judgment upon me being in Sekhem. I stretched out my two
arms to Osiris, I passed on to judgement. I have come to say: Grant that I may pass
that I may report my message. I enter being judged, coming out distinguished at door
of Nebertcher. I am pure at place of passage that great, I have my defects, I have made
an end of my wickedness, I have annihilated the faults which belong to me, I myself am
pure, I am mighty. O doorkeepers, I have made the way. I am like unto you, I have
come forth by day, I have walked upon my two legs, I have obtained power over the step
of the shining ones. I know, even I, the ways secret of the doors of the Sekhet Aaru.
May I rise up there, may it be granted to me I may come and that I may overthrow my
enemies upon earth, though my body buried it is." [1]

Abruptly, the voice paused. Their guide then asked in a low voice, "Are you thus
prepared?"

Dawn, without thinking, without benefit of logic, rational thought, or extended analysis,
answered a simple, definitive, "Yes." Both Alex and Sisi each, in turn, echoed her
resolve. With their words virtually echoing in the chamber, there followed a long silence,
as if they were being evaluated, the weights of their hearts being compared to that of a
feather.

Then in a lower, less insistent voice, the throne began to speak again. "I have made an
end of my failings, I have removed my defects. What then is it? The cutting off the
corruptible matter it is of Osiris the scribe Ani, triumphant before gods all. Driven away
are the defects all which belong to him. What then is it? The purification it is on the day
of his birth. I am purified in my double nest. What then is it?"

Each time the question was asked, the voice became slightly more insistent, emphasizing
the words in a subtle but increasing stride, as if genuinely seeking the answer. "The road
it is which travelleth his father Tmu over it when he goeth to Sekhet Aaru, which
produceth the food of the gods behind the shrine. I shall come into existence among
you. What then is it? The drops of blood it is which come forth from the phallus of Ra.
What then is it? The day it is of the fighting of Horus in it with Seth, throwing excrement
in the face of Horus, and carried off Horus the testicles of Seth, for Thoth did this with his
fingers himself.

"I raise up the hair at the time of storms in the sky. What then is it? This is the water of
heaven. What then is it? Thoth, thwarting the business of the enemies of Nebertcher,
deliver thou from those watchers who bring slaughtering knives, and are provided with
fingers cruel, and slay those who are in the following of Osiris, not may they prevail over
me, not may I fall under their knives. What then is it? I fly as a hawk, I cackle as a
goose, I kill always like Nehebkau. What then is it? The giver of foods, the annihilator of
sins, Osiris guideth along the road of eternity. What then is it?" [1]

Suddenly the voice grew louder still. "What then is it?" Suddenly insistent, the question
hung in the air.
Dawn could feel their guide looking at them for the answer. But before she could speak,
Alex, in a confident but low voice, answered, "Manna."

The answer was suddenly obvious to Dawn as well. "The Orme," she answered simply.

Sisi was apparently on the same wavelength. "The Star Fire," she said in a calm voice.

A slight pause ensued, followed by a less-strident, but still forceful voice. "I know Khu, is
his breath in my body. Not shall I be repulsed by the bull of terror, I shall come daily
into the house of the Double Lion-god, I shall come forth from it into the house of Isis, I
shall see the holy things hidden, I shall pass through the holy rites hidden, I shall see
what is there, shall my words complete in the majesty of Shu, they shall repulse the
moment.

"I am Horus, the dweller in his splendors. I have gained possession of his tiara, I have
gained possession of his rays of light, I have traveled over the uttermost parts of
heaven. I rise up, I gain the power over and I repulse the evil which is against me.
They open to me the ways holy, they see my form, they hear my words spoken to their
faces."

The voice paused for a few seconds. Then it continued, beginning quietly and slowly
increasing in power. "I have made the way, I have traveled, I have arrived at those who
live in their caverns guarding the house of Osiris. I speak to them of his power, I make
them to know the fearful power of him provided with horns against Seth. They know
who hath carried off the divine food which had brought the power of Tmu! " [1]

The voice then began what sounded like a benediction. "I bind up, I gather together
your powers, I order the powers of the ways of those who guard the horizon of the
hematet of heaven. I have prepared their doors for Osiris, I have ordered the ways for
him, I have done the commands."

Suddenly, as if enraptured, "O, I have made them to know the plan of the gods wrought
by Horus at the instance of his father Osiris. Hail lord, Soul mighty of terror! Let me,
even me, come, let me lift myself up, I have passed through the tuat, I have opened the
ways of the guardians of heaven, of the guardians of earth, I have not been repulsed
there. I have lifted up thy face, O lord of eternity!" [1]

The reverberation of the voice hung in the air, unwilling to dissipate by natural means.
The three supplicants, wholly out of their element, simply stood there, marveling and
bewildered. Their guide moved to stand between them and the throne, and there
address it. Dawn could not see any actions other than a slight nod of the head. Then he
turned back to them, indicating their audience was over. They turned, as he slipped
between the line they had formed, and using both hands opened the two doors of the
sanctuary. Then stepping to one side, he allowed them through. In the outer room, they
stared at the bright sun's reflection of the outer opening, their thoughts totally enmeshed
with what they had just heard. The man then said, quietly and gently, "Follow me."

He then led them out onto the porch, where the sun momentarily blinded them, and then
down the length of the porch to a small outdoor area. There four chairs were situated
around a small table in which three containers awaited the guests. Surrounding the
space on three sides were vine-covered walls, flowers growing in proliferation in every
possible cranny, and multi-colored stones used for paving and decoration. The man
gestured to the table where they were to sit down.

As they did so, he said, "Drink. Refresh yourself. It is necessary."

No one argued with the suggestion; all sitting and taking the liquid in large quantities --
without the slightest hesitation or question of what it might be. Only afterwards did they
wonder about the contents. They decided then it was simply water, or perhaps a
homeopathic liquid, pure water laced with memories and vibrations of a dozen or so
herbs and medicinal solutions. The main ingredient, however, was total, immense
refreshment -- a filling of a very old void in their souls, the feeding of their ka.

After the initial refreshment, Dawn studied the strange guide before her. Clearly
independent of most of the world's tribulations, he had a unique active quality about him,
as if his skills and talents were sufficient to create anything he might need. He was truly
free. For a split-second, she recalled the tarot deck given to her by Koco, and the image
of The Magician. This man before her, with the light streams flowing down from his eyes
could easily have been one and the same.

As they paused in their drinking, Alex and Sisi both setting their glasses on the table and
only Dawn holding hers with both hands, the man said quietly, "You may have
questions."

All three smiled at the obvious, but were hesitant to break the profound mood still
lingering from the darkened throne room. Finally, Sisi found the courage to ask, "Are you
Ningishzida?"

The man smiled. "I go by many names. Right now, I prefer 'Hal'. I took the name from
a Hollywood movie about a computer and a journey to Jupiter. I rather like the name."

Sisi laughed slightly at his answer. Then she asked, "Didn't Hal go mad?"

"Yes," Hal replied. "I believe he did." For several long seconds, Hal smiled
mischievously.

It seemed unlikely Hal was going to go further in identifying his origins or ancestry, and
Alex instead began asking about the manna (which Webster's definition literally
translates as "What then is it?) and the Orme elements. He described their efforts at
working with the mono-atomic elements, and even included their having identified the
Orme within vegetarian diets, grape juice, and the tea they had developed, Vitalitea.
The latter, Hal found particularly amusing. Then he began to answer.

He talked about many things, from fasting to figures such as Sai Baba, the moderately
famous and apparently very enlightened leader in India. He then told them of other
mysteries. Other mysteries which cannot be repeated here. His words were not those
that are written down. Ever. For every would-be alchemist -- every enlightenment-
seeking devotee -- must find their own path. And thus no more can be said of the
conversation with the man now called Hal.

Their future paths were nevertheless clear to them, and they left after several hours.
Quietly, with virtually no conversation between them, they returned to Aswan proper and
found a hotel for the night. Taking separate rooms, they immediately retired to them,
and there spent the following ten or so hours, thinking, meditating, sleeping, and for the
most part, being one unto themselves.

The next morning they began their most significant trek together.

____________________________________________
[1] The Egyptian Book of the Dead, The Papyrus of Ani, translated by E. A. Wallis Budge,
Dover Publications, New York, 1967. Quotes from Plate XXV, and portions of Plates VIII,
IX, X, and XXVI.
The World

Chapter Twenty One

Nathan was at his desk not having a good day, and was now faced with the report of yet
another failure in putting an end to a minor affair. It was an affair, however, which
because of its continuation was rapidly growing into a major problem. Staring at the
equally displeased face on his monitor, Nathan could feel a controlled rage building within
him.

Kurt, on the other end of a secure visual telephone hookup, was not a happy camper
either. He was almost spitting the words out. "Their itinerary is now apparent: First
Tlamacas, then Machu Picchu, and now, undoubtedly, Elephantine. I'm leaving for Egypt
within the hour.

Nathan's voice was as cold as frostbite. "And if you fail to find them there?"

"There are two other possible destinations," Kurt replied, his expression one of
calculation and deadly intent. "One is already arranged so that they will find a very
unpleasant surprise should they seek asylum there."

"The trap is already laid?"

"And primed. And even if they do not go there, it's clear their final destination must
undoubtedly be the English Island and our enemy's camp."

Nathan raised his head, almost as if distancing himself from the possibility of considering
such a scenario. "I would not like to see them reach the English Isles," he said, his tone
implying the dire consequences he envisioned. "There is too much to lose if they do."

"I am well aware of the stakes if they reach that point."

Nathan then leaned forward toward the monitor, emphasizing each word. "If you fail in
your attempt to trap them beforehand, or to prevent them from reaching his island, be
very certain you extinguish them before they leave there."

"I will know if they get that far," Kurt replied. "And I guarantee they will get no further."

"And I will hold you to that guarantee."

For several, long seconds the two men stared at each other -- silently making a pact.



A combination of Dawn's intuition and the appearance of some rather strange looking
people loitering around the hotel prompted the three of them to avoid the Aswan airport.
Instead, they hired a local driver to take them from Aswan to Cairo. It was an all day
trip with their acting the role of American tourists.

But at the same time these were visitors who were very respectful of the Moslem
religion. There was already in the air throughout the country the sounds and feel of a
resurgence of activity by Moslem Fundamentalists opposed to any and all foreigners. All
of the talk was, therefore, on the subject of the wonders of Egypt, and how delighted
they were to be in the ancient country.

Once in Cairo, they had their driver take them to a tourist hotel, where they paid him
and went into the hotel as if to check in. Instead of checking in, however, they headed
for the hotel's main dining room, and there had a tourist-style, early dinner. Then they
headed by taxi to a downtown museum. At the museum the threesome walked inside,
saw a crowd of people exiting, and joined them. Outside, they quickly found a driver
willing to take them to Alexandria, and were soon on their way. Their primary goal was
to leave Egypt and find their way to Greece, and unbeknownst to the women, specifically
to Crete.

After their arrival in Alexandria, the three made no effort to visit the wonders of the city.
Alex had already made two pilgrimages to this site of ancient learning -- the remnants of
the Great Library -- and had even visited the ruins of what had been one of the Seven
Wonders of the Ancient World: the Pharos Lighthouse. Alex still felt the overwhelming
sadness whenever he visited what had become for him the site of one of the greatest
atrocities in the history of the world, the destruction of the wisdom and knowledge of
millennia.

The city itself had been created by Alexander the Great in 332 B.C.E. following his
unopposed conquest of Egypt. To the ancient Pharaonic city of Rhacotis, Alexander had
added the suburb called Neapolis to the west. The two cities together came to be called
Alexandria. The plan was to provide Alexander with a naval base for his assault on
Persia, and at the same time, provide a link between Macedonia and the rich Nile valley.

In 323 B.C.E., upon the death of Alexander, one of his generals, Ptolemy, took Egypt as
his share of the spoils of Alexander's legacy and brought Alexander's body back to
Alexandria for entombment. Ptolemy and his heirs subsequently made Alexandria the
most sophisticated, cosmopolitan city in the ancient world. The library not only held over
a half million scrolls of the most profound history and philosophy, but the library and its
extensions formed a core for scholars from every religion and region in the civilized world
to congregate in the world's first truly ecumenical gathering. Alongside the many gods of
ancient Egypt, early Judaism flourished in what came to be known as the greatest Jewish
City in the world. In fact, the Septuagint was produced in this atmosphere, while at the
same time, Gnosticism and Coptic Christianity received their initial birth at Alexandria
and subsequently flourished..

For almost three centuries, the Library of Alexandria was supreme. Until 47 B.C.E., when
the Roman legions of Julius Caesar carelessly (and/or stupidly) damaged the library. The
city recovered from this initial insult, but then suffered a general massacre in A.D. 215 at
the hands of the Roman emperor Caracalla (Marcus Aurelius Antoninus), who was
responding to insults from the inhabitants. The city again recovered a portion of its
former splendor, only to have the main library destroyed in the civil war that occurred
under Aurelian in the late third century. Meanwhile the "daughter" library, located within
the temple to Sarapis (a god created, apparently, as a cross between Zeus and Osiris),
was destroyed by fanatical Christians in A.D. 391.

From Alex's viewpoint, the destruction of the Library at Alexandria was one of the most
notorious crimes of history, taking the greatest collection of literature, philosophy, and
history and putting it to the torch in the name of some narrow-minded, ignorant religion.
Alex had already grieved one of his namesake's greatest legacies, and had no desire to
again wander about the precincts of what had been a golden moment in the history of
the ancient world.

Instead he made a point of finding their way without delay to an ocean steamer bound
for Athens, Greece. Both Dawn and Sisi were mystified by Alex's sudden turn from
enthusiastically rushing from Egypt on an exciting quest, to that of a silent, somber man
recalling past grievances. But neither said anything as they observed him obtain
temporary lodgings and transportation aboard a modest, post-World War II steamer. He
did so without the traditional display of passports, identifications, and the like.
Apparently, they had the essential prerequisite: the money the Captain of the vessel
required for his cooperation. With Alex still in a somber mood they were soon aboard the
S. S. Kylix, bound for Greece.

"You do good work." Dawn said, when the two of them were momentarily alone, Alex's
mood seemed to be on the upswing, and the cargo vessel had begun to leave the view of
Alexandria far behind in its wake. "I would not have thought to take a ship in order to
get out of Egypt."

"Thanks," Alex replied, his mood lightening as the shoreline receded. "When you don't
want a lot of questions asked, you go to those who are similarly circumspect. Besides, if
Hal was right, our fake passports have already been compromised."

"And so now we're bound for Athens?"

Alex smiled. "Not exactly," he answered. "There are two unscheduled stops. One in
Crete and the other Thera, also known as Santorini. Then the S. S. Kylix is on to
Athens."

"I'm familiar with Crete, but where's Thera?"

"It's the first major island north of Crete. Its primary claim to fame is the explosion of a
volcano there some 3,500 years ago. The evidence would suggest the eruption set the
state for the disintegration of the Cretan culture, which was subsequently destroyed by
invasion some time around 1250 B.C.E."

Standing next to each other alongside an amidships railing, Alex leaned forward, his
elbows resting on the only thing between him and the rolling sea churned by the wake of
the Kylix. The sea breeze just off the coast of Egypt was invigorating, and afforded some
welcome moments of relaxation after the hectic business of constantly looking over one's
shoulder at potential enemies -- either enemies of the three of them specifically, or just
Moslem fundamentalists wanting to make a general point with any foreigner -- but
preferably American. Sisi took the momentary lull in their conversation to join them.
She had been talking to two other foreigners further aft.

"Germans," she casually informed them. "They're the reason for the Thera stop. They
didn't say so, but I suspect they're looking for Atlantis." Sisi grinned, her face lighting
up.

Alex smiled as Sisi took a position opposite from Dawn. "They may be right," he said.

"Atlantis is Thera?" Dawn asked.

"It's a possibility," Alex replied. "Or Crete. Or perhaps both Crete and Thera are outlying
colonies of the original Atlantis, allegedly beyond the Pillars of Hercules."
"What makes you think so?" Dawn asked.

"Ancient Thera was very much like ancient Crete. There are a lot of parallels between
the cultures: Wall paintings of inhabitants at work, play and worship; indications of a
gentle, sensual goddess-style culture. But curiously, there were no skeletons or written
records at Thera -- as if the inhabitants had had a warning of the imminent eruption and
had fled. Plato's description of Atlantis sounds a lot like Crete and Thera."

"When did that happen?" Dawn asked.

Alex grimaced, "That's pretty much up for grabs. Some say as early as 1620 B.C.E., but
others are arguing as late as 1362 B.C.E. I figure it was about the time of the Exodus
from Egypt, sometime in the late fifteenth and early fourteenth century B.C.E. But in
any case, it was one heck of an explosion, apparently much larger than Krakatoa in A.D.
1883 or Vesuvius in A.D. 79. It was probably bigger than the biggest hydrogen explosion
mankind has ever managed -- possibly the biggest blast ever seen on Earth."

"I think I'd have to disagree with you on that point," Sisi interrupted. When Alex looked
at her with surprise, she added, "The Tunguska explosion was bigger."

"Oh, yes," Alex suddenly replied. "I'd forgotten about that."

"What's the Tunguska explosion?" Dawn asked.

Alex looked at Sisi, who immediately and with the slant of her head gave him permission
to take center stage. Alex smiled -- he loved to talk about mysteries. "On the morning
of June 30th, 1908 -- I think it was 7:17 am local time -- there was a massive mid-air
blast over an unpopulated region of Siberia, some 600 miles north of the northern most
tip of Mongolia, and north-northeast of Lake Baikal. We know the exact time because of
seismograph readings all over the world."

"1908 A.D.," Dawn interjected, "The Twentieth Century?"

"Exactly," Alex replied. "Fairly recent."

"I think I've heard of it. A comet exploding or something like that?"

"That's the traditional thinking," Alex replied. Sisi chuckled to herself, and Dawn, already
seeing another of Alex's far-out theories surfacing, smiled as well. Alex noticed both of
the women's expressions and took them as positive feedback. "Everyone agrees," he
continued, "the explosion did enormous damage, felling a forest and knocking down trees
for scores of miles in every direction. There is also general agreement that the
cataclysmic explosion was a mid-air one -- there are no craters or other indications that
would imply any object actually hitting the ground. In fact, at the epicenter of the blast,
the trees were still standing in much the same way as buildings directly on ground zero
were in Hiroshima and Nagasaki after the atom bombs were dropped. Those bombs were
also mid-air explosions.

"But then that's where the people who have really investigated the matter [1] part
company with the mainstream. The same eyewitnesses who saw the pillar of fire flare up
in the clear morning sky, even the Herdsmen who were deafened and thrown into shock
by the blast, agree on several points. The first and foremost is that a cylindrical object,
shining very brightly with a bluish-white light approached the area from the south. Then
it was seen heading almost due east, and then shortly after that, heading virtually due
west. After which it moved vertically downward for ten minutes. Such is not the route of
a comet! It simply covered too much ground, showing up initially over the Trans-
Siberian Railway, and then traveled some 800 miles in a rough zigzag pattern."

"Sounds like it was running from something, or trying to evade a pursuer," Dawn
suggested.

"That's a possibility," Alex replied. "But keep in mind that in 1908, the United States War
Department still had Orville Wright's initial letter in their "crank" file. Thus we can pretty
well eliminate an aerial dog-fight between competing aircraft -- at least those manned by
humans."

Dawn had a sudden insight. "You think it was extraterrestrials?" Then her eyes
widened even further. "Or the Anunnaki, still fighting among themselves?"

"It does make a lot of sense that way," Alex replied. "And it may have been related to
Lake Baikal, which is one of the strangest lakes on earth. Despite the fact it's located
between 51 and 56 degrees north latitude in a very cold region of earth, the lake area
contains over 1800 species of plant and animal life, a thousand of which are found
nowhere else on earth. In addition, the lake has a very 'eerie' reputation -- all the
earmarks of a secret extraterrestrial base. The locals even have mythologies of strange
races of men inhabiting the unexplored areas, some of which hibernated for two months
or longer."

Sisi quietly interjected, "Which sounds very much like the Anunnaki."

Dawn suddenly looked worried. "We're not going to Lake Baikal, are we?"

Alex laughed, "No, although that would have been our logical next destination. Lake
Baikal is almost certainly a key location in this drama. But we have no way of getting
into Russia, and there’s no guarantee we could find a train going in that direction in a
reasonable time frame.

“Plus which, it's a minimum five-day train ride, with no stops. I wouldn't want to be
trapped in the confines of a train for that long."

"We could have flown, couldn't we," Dawn asked.

"It's never wise to fly within Russia. You're limited to Aeroflot, and that airline has a very
nasty reputation of having their planes fall out of the sky on a regular basis. The
Russians just never let the word get out for fear of reducing the airline's revenues."

"Just as well," Sisi replied. "Russia is a bit too patriarchal for me."

"I agree," Alex replied. Then he continued as before. "But even if Lake Baikal was an
extraterrestrial base and the nearby Tunguska explosion was somehow connected, there
were no reports of a second craft by the eyewitnesses, and thus it's not likely the object
was evading a pursuer. There's also the curious fact that not a single human being was
killed in the explosion."

Dawn suddenly became skeptical of where Alex was leading. "Which means...?"

Alex laughed slightly. "At first, my thinking was precisely yours. But then one day,
given the exact time, date and location of the blast, I quite innocently did an
astrological natal chart for the event. I'm always drawing up charts on my computer --
it's sometimes quite rewarding."
"And you discovered what?" Dawn asked.

"The astrological chart of the Tunguska blast is absolutely astounding. It has eight of ten
planets clustered in an arc of some fifty degrees, six of which are in cancer and exactly
opposite Uranus at 15 degrees of Capricorn. It even has Saturn exactly aligned with the
top of the chart, what's called the Midheaven. The end result is that it is a very unique
chart -- too unique in fact to be random. I figure it has to be some sort of a signal,
perhaps a warning to humanity that it's time to wake up and smell the roses!"

"But it's already been almost a century!" Dawn replied, not quite ready to accept Alex's
idea.

"A mere pittance," he answered, "to the Anunnaki. But enough time to give us the
chance to make some very drastic changes. I figure the events it foretold -- whatever
they are -- will be coming to fruition within the next ten years. I just don't have any idea
what it all means."

"I'm amazed," Dawn replied, kiddingly. "You don't have a theory? That's incredible!"

Alex grimaced, while Sisi laughed out loud. "She knows you pretty well," the younger
woman remarked. Alex just shook his head, the hint of a grin still on his face.

For a moment the three simply smiled. Then Dawn casually remarked, "I rather prefer
your idea of the Tunguska blast being a signal instead of outright warfare between
Anunnaki factions. It seems a bit less threatening. There's also the comfort level of
knowing there's somebody up there on our side. Or at least, apparently so."

Alex grimaced. "What makes you think most of the wars that keep cropping up all over
the planet are not Anunnaki inspired? For that matter, why are governments constantly
fighting for territory? One possibility is that nations fighting other nations are simply the
means by which the Anunnaki settle their differences. But there's also the possibility
that they just want to keep us fighting among ourselves, so that we don't notice what is
really happening. Something of a major distraction, you might call it. Very
Machiavellian"

Dawn frowned. "Like I said; I like the idea of somebody taking an interest in our future.
The wars and fights among the Anunnaki I'd rather put on the back burner to think about
later."

Sisi suddenly perked up. "I agree with Dawn. I don't even like to think of the Mars and
Moon things as being current. It's much nicer to think of them as artifacts from the far
distant past."

Sisi's remarks quickly attracted Dawn's attention, as Alex merely said to himself, "Oops."

Dawn ignored Alex's grin, and asked Sisi directly, "Now what are you talking about?"

"The Face on Mars," Sisi replied, matter-of-factly.

Dawn was adamant. "What face on Mars?"

"Oh," Sisi replied, suddenly aware of Dawn's apparent lack of the latest esoteric and far-
out intelligentsia meanderings. She turned to Alex, but he was already stepping back to
allow her to explain this one herself. A pleasant expression on his face, he left the space
between the women to stand on the deck, his hands in his pockets, slowly swaying side
to side. It was Alex's "non-intimidating" stance -- one giving the impression he was
ready to dance should anyone ask, but in the meantime, he was not going to impose his
presence. Sisi acknowledged Alex's deference to her, and took the plunge herself.

"When the NASA probes of Mars took photographs from orbit of an area on the Red
Planet called Cydonia, they encountered something which looked like a face with some
sort of head-dress, almost like an Egyptian. Then, as people such as Richard Hoagland
and others [2] studied the photographs, they noticed numerous pyramid-like structures
nearby. Furthermore, the lines drawn to connect all of the structures formed a geometry
of natural angles which could not have been by chance. Numerous scientists then began
subjecting the photos to the most sophisticated photo-enhancement techniques available
and came up with the startling conclusion that artificial objects, clearly created by
intelligent beings, had been constructed on Mars. Moreover, the indications were the
structures were laid out in their current patterns sometime around 250,000 years ago!"

"Unbelievable!" Dawn exclaimed. "But why is it I've never heard about this?"

Sisi shrugged her shoulders. "NASA wants no part of it. They've tried every manner of
subterfuge known to mankind to deny it. They’ve also tried to block the investigators,
most of whom are reputable scientists, until they got caught with the Freedom of
Information Act. NASA prefers to bury its head in the sand, but a lot of the insiders are
leaking information on the Internet."

"But why would they try to deny something so unbelievably important?"

"In the early days of NASA there was a study done on the possible effects of humanity
encountering extraterrestrials: What would happen to human psychology, theology, and
other ologies if the space program suddenly encountered real live extraterrestrials or
merely evidence of them. The end result of the study was something called the
Brookings' Report, which strongly suggested that the public at large was simply not
ready for interplanetary commerce.

"Of course, a great deal has changed in the last several decades since the report was
prepared, but NASA is still operating on the assumption that discovering evidence of
extraterrestrials, dead or alive, would cause panic in the streets -- in much the same way
the radio listening audience went bonkers during Orson Well's broadcast of The War of
the Worlds. The Brookings' Report is probably also one of the reasons for the continuing
denial by the Federal Government of there being the slightest possibility of UFOs being
real -- if only because UFOs automatically imply extraterrestrials."

"There's another factor," Alex interjected. "If the world at large became aware of the
actual existence of extraterrestrials, this could constitute one of the most unifying factors
between humans in the history of the world. Differences between peoples, even warring
factions, would suddenly lose most of their importance. It's been suggested, for
example, that the Bosnia peace accord came about largely because the leaders -- who
were unalterably opposed to compromising any further -- were shown the dead bodies of
the alleged ETs from the Roswell crash back in the fifties. That might even have been
the reason the peace talks were held at Wright Patterson Air Force base, where the ETs
bodies have supposedly been kept all these years. Supposedly in seeing the reality of
extraterrestrials, the warring leaders suddenly realized the futility of fighting among
themselves."

Dawn looked at Alex, studying his idea. "And if those in charge don't want peace
between people, then they certainly don't want a world unifying factor such as knowledge
of extraterrestrial intelligence becoming widespread. It could eliminate war between
humans."

"Precisely," Alex agreed.

"It might be that," Sisi added. "But it might also be a natural reluctance to realize that
as humans, we are not necessarily at the top of the food chain."

"That's not exactly a thought I'm particularly enamored with myself," Dawn replied.

"Neither am I. So you can probably imagine," Sisi continued, "That when similar
anomalies showed up on Earth's Moon, NASA really went ballistic. Or maybe Looney is a
better word. And to make matters worse, the photographs of the Moon were much more
numerous and even more indicative of someone or something building structures on the
Moon for some unknown purpose. There is even a fair amount of circumstantial evidence
that the Moon is artificial."

"Oh now I know you're kidding," Dawn laughed.

Sisi shrugged and smiled at the same time, while Alex leaped right in there. "You realize
of course that the ratio of the Earth-Moon distance to the earth's diameter is a
hypergeometrical number -- something far beyond normal coincidence. In addition, the
Earth's Moon is by far the largest satellite in our solar system when compared to the size
of the planet it's revolving about. Then there’s the fact that the Moon's diameter is
exactly 2160 miles -- a number which is exactly one-twelfth of the time for the
precession of the Earth's axis. Also, the Moon rang like a bell when one of the early
Russian lunar missions impacted on its surface."

"You're actually serious," Dawn commented.

"Ever heard of Clementine? It was an unmanned photographic mission to the moon --

and possibly Mars -- back in 1994. There was virtually no media coverage, despite the
fact it radioed back some of the most stunning color photographs of the Moon ever
taken. At the same time, there appears to be no interest by NASA in any future manned
missions to the Moon -- everything they're doing is now space shuttle missions and all
very close to home. It's not entirely clear what's going on, but if there really are
extraterrestrial artifacts on the Moon, it looks very much like someone in NASA and the
Federal Government is running scared. The one thing you can be sure of, though, is that
intelligent beings have been running around on both Mars and the Moon for some time
now. Lunatics is not necessarily about dummies, but more likely about where one hails
from."

"Absolutely phenomenal," Dawn sighed. "But I suppose it all makes sense somehow."

Alex quietly added, "Everything ties together. Why wouldn't the Anunnaki have bases on
Mars and on the Moon? Being true spacefarers, it's a logical step. They may even be
located in other parts of the solar system. It's just we haven't discovered any others.
Yet.”

“Well,” Sisi added, “There are the Hubble Space Telescope and Voyager pictures of some
very small moons of Saturn, which seem to keep appearing and disappearing.”

“Saturn?” Dawn asked.

“The ‘ringed planet.’ There were moons discovered by Voyager, and then re-discovered
by Hubble, but in the wrong places. The intriguing part is that they can only be seen
when the rings of Saturn are exactly on edge.”

“An event,” Alex added, “That only occurs every 15 years or so.”
“And if these so-called moons are moving around,” Sisi added, “Maybe they’re not really
moons. Maybe they're spaceships?”

Dawn’s mouth opened with a brief expulsion of air. Alex merely shrugged his shoulders.
“I’m afraid I can’t quite go along with that one,” he added. “That's too far out for me!”

“You’re kidding!” Dawn’s expression was utter disbelief.

Alex and Sisi both laughed, but it was Alex who first managed a reply. “I’m more likely
to go along with some of the Giza Pyramids and Orion theories than spaceships around
Saturn.”

“Now that I think I’ve heard about,” Dawn suddenly added. “Didn’t I read somewhere
that the arrangement of the Giza Pyramids are not in a straight line, but the exact
positioning as the three stars in the belt of the Orion constellation?”

“Yes,” Alex quickly answered. “Plus, Sirius -- the star primarily associated with Isis -- is
the star that lines up with one of the so-called air shafts in the Great Pyramid. Of
course, investigations have shown that there’s a metal door at the end of the air shaft,
one which no one has quite figured out how to open.”

“So when Osiris kept coming up in our initiation on Elephantine, it was no accident.”

“Not at all,” Alex replied. “But there is one really strange, additional fact. The
arrangement of the three Giza pyramids and the stars of Orion’s belt, are also duplicated
by three, so-called shield volcanoes on Mars -- a very precise match.”

“Now that makes no sense at all,” Dawn quickly added. “The stars in Orion’s belt are in
the position they are, only because they’re seen from our vantage point. They don’t
even have to be close to each other in space, but only appear so from our particular
planet.”

“That’s true. Or at least from our Solar System,” Alex added. “In fact, several of the
other stars of the Orion constellation are closer to us than they are to the other stars in
the constellation. On the other hand, the three in Orion’s belt, as well as the Orion
Nebula and stars just below the belt, are in fact pretty much in the same part of space.
And this part of space is considered to be one of the most intensive star-forming regions
in our galaxy -- a very significant astrophysical location.”

“But how could three volcanoes on Mars wind up in the same configuration? You’re
assuming some really strange natural phenomena here.”

“Only if those three structures on Mars are natural. If they’re artificial,” Alex continued,
a big smile on his face, “Then they could have been placed their intentionally. Curiously,
if the Sphinx is included in the arrangement of the structures on Mars, the Martian
version of the Sphinx would end up being located rather precisely on the equator of
Mars. That is hardly a coincidence.”

"I think maybe it's time for me to sit down somewhere and clear my head," Dawn said.
"You two keep stretching my mind with all your theories. It's really mind-boggling."

"Heard anything that couldn't be true?" Alex asked.

"No," Dawn replied, slightly disgusted. "That's why it's so mind-boggling."

Sisi laughed. "I have an idea. Let's go up to the bow and feel the ocean spray in our
faces!"

Both Dawn and Alex looked at her as if Sisi were suddenly suspect of having lost her
mind. But then both smiled, shrugged their shoulders, and followed the exuberant
younger woman.

It was while they made their way forward, walking along the slightly sloping deck toward
the ship's bow that it happened. During a slight roll of the ship to one side, Dawn's hand
had reached out to steady herself against a no longer functional, fire hose storage rack
welded against the bulkhead. Shaped like the legs of a preying mantis, the metal object
had long since ceased to have any defined function, other than to lend a rusty, out-of-
usage decor to the lower bulkhead of the ship's bridge. Dawn's slight weight against the
heavy metal object was just enough to loosen it from its rusty moorings. Then as she
passed by it, regaining her balance and letting it go, it swung out -- right into Alex's
path. The "preying mantis" managed to catch Dawn's sleeve and tear it, before hitting
Alex across the head and chest -- the leading edge striking his forehead. Alex,
concentrating on maintaining his balance against the roll of the ship, never saw the metal
rack swing on its rusty hinges until it hit him in the face.

Both Dawn and Sisi turned when they heard the dull thud of metal against skull, and saw
Alex falling backwards, his feet pointing to the bow and his arms askew. Dawn quickly
leaped to Alex's aid, first grabbing his legs to prevent him from slipping under the lowest
handrail and over the side. From there she worked her way to his head, where she lifted
it into her lap. Sisi was almost instantly at her side. Alex's eyes blinked, as he
momentarily shook his head to clear the cobwebs.

When Alex gamely tried to smile, Sisi decided he was okay. She then looked up at the
metal holder still swinging slightly, its rusty hinges squeaking and protesting every
movement. Dawn had already figured out the scenario of what had happened. Her
clumsiness was alive and well, and living on a Greek freighter in the Eastern
Mediterranean. She frowned and tried to explain.

"I'm sorry, Alex," she said. "I must have broken it loose when I leaned on it."

"No problem," Alex stammered. "I've a very thick skull. As I'm sure you're already
aware."

Sisi, having now guessed what had happened, stood up and shoved the metal rack back
into place. When it seemed ready to remain there, she turned and helped Dawn get Alex
back to his feet. All the while he kept glancing at the metal rack, making sure it was not
after him again.

"It occurs to me," Alex managed to say, as the three moved further forward and out of
the way of the swinging mantis, "that I had better tell the two of you exactly where we're
heading." For a moment he paused and touched his forehead. "While I'm still conscious."

Both women laughed, Dawn more from embarrassment than genuine joviality. But she
was determined to let go of her inevitable and instinctive guilt. "Wow!" Dawn replied,
trying to keep it light. "What a concept! You're actually going to confide in us! I'm
impressed!"

Sisi added, brightly, "I didn't even know you knew where you were going. I had just
assumed you were lost, and in the manly tradition, had not wanted to stop and ask for
directions."
Alex ignored the female chauvinist remark, and sat down on the forward hatch cover of
the ship. As the two women joined him on either side, he said, "The place we're going is
on the south side of the island of Crete near a bay called Kali Lumenes." Dawn was
immediately startled at the mention of the name, but Alex missed her reaction and said,
"It means 'The Fair Havens'. It's also the name of an obscure religious order of mostly
women, who have a cloister well secluded from the mainstream. Supposedly, the women
there are nuns with special ties to the Virgin Mary. In reality they're more likely goddess
worshippers than anything else.

"And in true goddess fashion," he continued, "there are also a fair number of males on
the inside, supposedly acting like maintenance men and the like, but in reality very pro-
goddess themselves. This arrangement affords a modicum of balance between males
and females. The Goddess, after all, is very much into equal and healthy relationships
between men and women. And The Fair Havens Cloister is one of the last remaining of
the ancient goddess temples."

"And they'll take us in?" Dawn asked.

"I don't know for sure," Alex replied. "But Gil once told me that this was the place to
head for if I ever really wanted to drop out of sight. He seemed to know a lot more
about the place than he was willing to confide in me, but he did emphasize it was the
refuge of last resort. Frankly, its greatest appeal is that we will have a place to rest and
incorporate into our lives all we've learned in the last weeks and months."

"So we're to land in Crete -- I assume at Iraklion -- and then make our way over the
mountains to the south side of the island to The Fair Havens Cloister" Sisi asked.

"Something like that," Alex replied.

"Inasmuch as our passports have probably been compromised," Dawn said, nonchalantly,
"Is there any potential problem with out getting through customs in Crete once we
dock?"

Alex suddenly looked embarrassed, as if he was not yet ready to divulge the part of the
plan which was less than an laudatory one. Sheepishly, he answered, "I don't think
that's going to be a problem."



The reason for Alex's dismissal of any custom problems in Crete immediately became
evident to the ladies when they found themselves that night on the otherwise deserted
fantail of the SS Kylix. In the darkened condition, the churning waters from the screws
highlighted by the after running light was the only distinct indicator of the calm sea
below. All three were dressed sparingly, as if ready to go swimming, and each had a bag
or backpack wrapped in plastic and strapped to their body. Alex had insisted that Dawn's
gold be apportioned between them, with Alex taking a larger portion of the heavy metal.
Dawn had not understood, but had implicitly trusted Alex in the distribution of their
resources. But she was less sanguine about the rest of the plan.

"This is ridiculous," Dawn said, in a low and intense voice. "When you said we'd be
dropped off at Crete, you didn't say we'd have to swim ashore! Or do it under cover of
darkness!

"Or without telling anyone," Sisi added, equally surprised.

Alex, struggling to manhandle a large deflated life raft, explained as best he could. "We
won't have to swim if we can get this life raft inflated and over the side!" Then as Sisi
and Dawn began to help Alex by womanhandling the raft -- and thereby accomplishing
their goal in record time -- Alex added, "Besides, if the Captain knew about our plans,
we'd be traceable. Doing it this way, he'll figure members of his crew did us in and then
threw our bodies over the side. That's why we messed up our stateroom: To make him
think we were victims of foul play. At the same time, he's not about to say anything to
the authorities, because then they might ask him about carrying passengers without a
passport. The end result is that we've covered our tracks very effectively."

As the three lifted the deflated life raft up onto a small flat section of the ship's
superstructure overlooking the churning waters below, Sisi commented, "That's actually a
good plan, Alex."

"I agree," Dawn added, less enthusiastically. "It's just that I'm not a strong swimmer."

"Then you can jump with the life raft," Alex assured her. With no further fanfare on the
fantail, Alex pulled the cord to inflate the raft. The mechanism worked spectacularly
well. Except for the fact that in the process of inflating, the life raft quickly became out-
of-control and ended up falling over the side. Alex's comment was "Shit!", while Dawn,
seeing her life raft slipping away from her, quickly scampered over the rear safety lines
and without hesitating, jumped into the water, already grabbing for the rapidly inflating
flotation device. Sisi immediately followed Dawn's example, while Alex was only slightly
behind, still partially mesmerized by the abruptly out-of-control nature of his carefully
calculated plan.

By the time Dawn had resurfaced, the life raft had completed the inflation process and
was now floating gently on the Kylix's wake. Dawn struck out for it with a vengeance,
making up in effort what she lacked in swimming efficiency. Her technique was primarily
a dog paddle, with her main intent to keep her head above water. Within seconds,
however, she had managed to grab the rope circling the exterior of the raft and sling her
second arm over the inflated side. Hanging there, she tried to catch her breath. Almost
immediately, she was joined by Sisi, who having expended considerably less energy in
the short swim, was able to scramble and squirm her way aboard the life raft without
delay. Sisi then helped Dawn crawl into the life raft as well. Falling back in a tumble,
intertwined with one another, they again tried to catch their breath.

Just as they began to breathe more normally, the two women suddenly sensed the
quietness, and leaped to their knees to search for Alex. With the only light from the aft
lights of the Kylix, they realized they could see nothing. Only the bright yellow of the life
raft stood out in the dark. Sisi took a breath preparatory to yelling out, when Alex's right
arm was suddenly slung over the side. Reacting by instinct the two women immediately
grabbed him, and in a concentrated effort, managed to pull him into the raft. All three
fell back into the raft and for a moment share a relieved laugh.

"You two okay?" Alex asked.

"Oh, we're fine," Dawn answered.

Sisi seemed to assent as well, as she rose up and tried to stand. Glancing around to get
her bearings, she pointed to the Kylix, and then pointed to the left of the ship's course.
"There goes our ride, and I assume that row of lights is Crete."

"I think you're right," Alex answered. "Probably, Iraklion."

Dawn then asked brightly, "Anybody bring an oar?"

All three looked at each other, and then begin the process of discovering that the life raft
had long since had all of its emergency equipment and rations stolen.



In the early morning, just east of the port of Iraklion, Crete, a small yellow life raft
approached the beach with three exhausted individuals looking the worse for wear. Each
was attempting to paddle using some manner of jury-rigged paddle, from a canvas flap
to a portion of a backpack to the old reliable: both hands. As they approached the
shoreline, in what was apparently shallow water, Alex looked down, misgauged the depth
of the water, and jumped over the side. He immediately went in over his head. Bobbing
back up, his face showing considerable surprise, he grabbed a hold of the raft. "Deeper
than I thought," he admitted.

Both women resisted the temptation to laugh, as Alex grabbed one of the attached ropes
and began swimming and pulling the raft. When he had finally reached shallower waters,
he stood up and began hauling his cargo toward shore. Both women jumped out as well
once they had reached knee deep water, and then with the raft resting half on shore and
half in the water they set down to rest. Alex joined them.

"So," Dawn asked, "Do we get to Kali Lumenes by land? Or by sea?

"By land," Alex replied. "A rented car. With someone else driving."

"Good plan," Sisi replied, already planning on a long nap in whatever vehicle they chose.



Sisi's mobile sleeping quarters turned out to be a "customized" Volkswagen bus driven by
a strange, former San Francisco hippie-turned-Cretan. His name was Homer -- but
apparently no relation to that other Greek with the same name.

This Homer was unique, having avoided for fifty some odd years any temptation to
evolve and/or join modern society. His customized bus was equally unique and had
developed a reputation among VW Bus owners throughout the world. Every solid surface
on both the inside and outside of the vehicle was painted a deep purple -- only the head
lights and brake lights had escaped the purple onslaught. Inside the bus, the seats were
randomly situated, with only the driver's seat in anything resembling a traditional
position. The seats faced each other at various angles, and two of the seats could be
adjusted in one of several directions (although apparently, this was a result of chance
and not of original intention). Each was covered with equally purple fabric, and overlaid
with small white embroiderings of strange, graceful lines resembling some stark, ancient
symbolism.

A small table was also provided behind the driver and midway in the "aft parlor".
Beneath it was an old cooler turned on its end, but still functioning as a place to store
drinks and foods. It was not as if Homer's VW could ever hope to compete directly with
the more modern buses, but it did have a strange appeal for the small group of tourists
looking for something far, far distant from the ordinary.

The trip across the mountains was extraordinary as well. The road was not one traveled
by tourists -- there not being an insurance company in the world willing to cover any bus
making the attempt. And yet it was a functional road. It served the local populace --
provided, of course, the locals did not mimic their distant brethren in Athens and attempt
to join the twentieth century's frantic pace.
Alex had assumed there would be all manner of opportunities for the three passengers to
get out and push when the VW bus met its match on a steep incline. Homer, however,
had long since solved that problem by incorporating a small tractor engine in his
customizing. The effect was to give the bus a unique appearance, as well as a slow,
plodding, but nevertheless powerful thrust up most any incline. Suffice it to say the bus
took less than half a day to traverse the width of Crete and find their destination.



The Fair Havens (Kali Lumenes) was situated along the southern coast line, overlooking a
rugged and not particularly attractive looking conglomeration of wave formed contours of
horizontally stratified sedimentary rocks. The bright sun had bleached out any colors in
the rock, and the remainder was crumbling shale surrounded by foamy seas.

The cloister itself was a disjointed series of white, broken plastered walls, apparently
constructed during different centuries with little regard to outward appearances and/or
continuity of traditions. The walls were high and built on a foundation of upthrust rock,
such that only the lush greenery of trees on the interior gave any indication of life on the
other side of the walls. The overall effect would have been impressive for its sheer
height and breath had anyone been able to step back far enough to appreciate it -- but
the scatter of local buildings and shrubbery surrounding the landward side prevented
anyone from ever stepping back far enough. Only from the heights of the mountains on
the center of the island could one appreciate the cloistered buildings. But at that
distance it was almost impossible to see anything in the hot, bleak atmosphere of the
summer day.

As the bus pulled up to what was supposedly the main entrance, all three passengers
were excited. Part of the excitement was based on what might lay behind the walls. But
part of the excitement was also in having survived the arduous journey and their looking
forward to escaping the confines of the bus. Then, as Homer and his bus lumbered off to
visit a distant relative (of the bus), the three foreigners stood before a heavy wooden
door wedged between two bulky column supports of the wall. For several moments, they
simply stood there.

Finally, Alex shrugged his shoulders, and stepped forward to knock. At the same
moment, Dawn suddenly felt a strange but intense feeling, and immediately reached out
for Alex's arm, catching him by the sleeve and causing him to hesitate and turn to look at
her. For a moment, her eyes focused inwardly as she vainly tried to see in her mind's
eye the reason for her sudden sense. Her intuition could have been warning her of
danger, or simply an expectation of the unknown -- Dawn could not quite identify which.
Yet the sense was there -- intense and attention grasping, but nebulous as to why.

Dawn then allowed herself to look at Alex. Shaking her head, she said, "Something
there, but I can't quite figure it out." When Alex merely waited, she added, "It might
just as easily be something good, a genuine welcome. Go ahead. Try the door."

Alex replied, "Okay." Then he tried the door. No chance of it budging. He knocked.
Nothing. Then he pounded on the door with his fist. Everything was quiet. Alex stepped
back, as if to gauge his adversary. He looked up toward the top of the wall, but saw no
signs of life. He frowned, and turned to Dawn. She was still trying to grasp the meaning
of what was now a diminishing emotion. She shrugged, and Alex turned to look at Sisi.
The younger woman was looking very contemplative, glancing around the wall, as if
studying it, as if searching for clues. Then Sisi smiled, a solution apparently on its way
to her.

A local was approaching them along the narrow street. He had all the indications of
being an old farmer, but seemed to be unaware of the three foreigners. The man
trudged along, but with a purposeful gait -- as if he was determined to be about on some
quest, but at the same time was too tired to merrily skip along. His old straw hat and his
lowered head served to cover his eyes, but he seemed not the least bit threatening.

Of course, a bull elephant in full charge might not have threatened Sisi. She smiled and
faced the man as he came within six feet of her. "Excuse me, Sir," she said. "Can you
help us?"

The man made not the slightest movement to acknowledge her question, apparently
intent on simply walking by. But just as he passed her, he said, "Follow." Without
missing a step, he continued walking down the dusty stone pathway alongside the wall.
Sisi, without hesitation, fell in behind him, smiling broadly to Dawn and Alex as she
passed. Dawn and Alex looked at each other for perhaps three seconds, and then turned
to follow Sisi -- Dawn stepping out just before Alex.

The three followed the man until he turned a small corner and stepped into an alcove
composed of a small bench and another, smaller wooden door. There he stopped and
turned ninety degrees to await the threesome. As they arrived next to him, the door
opened without a sound, a small hand curled around the door the only evidence of how
the door had opened. Sisi smiled at the man, said, "Thank you", and proceeded through
the door. Dawn smiled at the man as well, and followed her. Alex tipped his non-
existent hat as he passed the man and followed Dawn into the walled compound.

Suddenly Dawn pulled up short, her intuition once again raising hell. But the emotions
were still as nebulous as before, even if possibly more intense. Dawn was still struggling
to clarify her thoughts, when the small woman who had opened the door, closed it
behind Alex.

Sisi interrupted the silence, saying, "Thank you for allowing us in. We're..."

Her voice trailed off as the small woman held up the universal sign for silence. Dressed
in white robes with her hair wrapped in a white bandanna, the woman might have been a
nun on a "dress-down day". She was clearly young, perhaps in her twenties, but far
beyond being a novice.

Gesturing with her hand, she led the three across the small patio they had entered, and
down along a small, roofed passageway between buildings. The passageway twisted its
way through a maze-like assortment of walls, occasionally passing roofless sections until
it came upon three doors clustered around a slight widening of the space. The woman
opened the left hand door and stepped aside to allow the others to enter. Sisi led the
way, continuing her life-long tradition of rushing in where angels feared to tread.

As Dawn and Alex stepped inside as well, the woman followed them in and closed the
door. The room was lit by seven candles located, apparently, haphazardly about the
room. Nevertheless, it was still much darker than the light afforded outside by the late
afternoon sun. As everyone's eyes accustomed themselves to the relative lack of light,
the woman gestured to chairs about a conference or dining table, a table measuring
roughly four foot by twelve. Other than twelve chairs neatly in place around the table,
there were no other objects in the room. Even the walls were bare. Not so much as
even a cross.

As the three sat, the woman made another gesture of silence, and gently excused
herself.

They were quiet as well -- for a brief moment. Then Alex leaned forward to rest his
elbows on the table. Quietly, he said, "Interesting welcome." He smiled slightly, as if
content with his statement.
The only other door to the room opened, and another woman dressed like the first,
entered with a tray containing three goblets. She quietly sat the goblets before each of
the guests, and with a slight bow turned to leave the room. From outside a single,
sonorous tone sounded. The woman stopped, took a deep breath, and turned back to
the three guests. Quietly, she said, her voice slightly out of tune from not having spoken
recently, "She will join you momentarily." With that, she turned and left the room. As
the door closed behind her, Sisi managed a parting shot of, "Thank you." The door
closed with no further acknowledgment.

"Does this mean we can talk now?" Dawn asked.

"You mean we couldn't before?" Sisi asked in return.

"Apparently," Alex absently replied, his attention more on the contents of his goblet.
Cautiously, he smelled it and then used a finger to tentatively taste it. Abruptly, he
smiled. "Water," he said, and promptly took a deep drink. Even more pleased, he
added, "Delicious!"

The others took a drink as well, realizing they were each very thirsty. Then as they
leaned back, Sisi commented, "Simple but perfect hospitality." Both of the others
indicated agreement.

For several moments, they were content to enjoy the quiet. Then Dawn's intuition
reared its head again, but this time garnering her attentions and adrenaline for
immediate activity. Almost on cue, the interior door opened and Anna Zedek calmly
walked into the room! The effect was stunning, and while neither Alex nor Sisi
recognized the woman, they could feel Dawn's reaction of flight or fight. Only it didn't
make sense to them. Anna's smile seemed so genuine.

"Hello, Dawn. We meet again." Anna with royal grace and common courtesy moved to
the table and took the empty chair once removed from Dawn's. "You've had quite an
adventure," Anna added. Then when Dawn and the others could only stare -- waiting for
the next move -- Anna laughed slightly. "I'm afraid you've given Nathan and Kurt more
anxiety than they're accustomed to. They've become ever more insistent upon catching
you and your companions, and yet finding themselves encountering failure after failure.
They've always been several steps behind you, and right now I doubt they have a clue as
to where you are. I rather imagine they should be in a state of acute, total frustration
about now."

"Is that good?" Alex asked, trying to make sense of the tension in the room.

"It has its satisfying moments," Anna replied. "But it's also a bit dangerous."

"What are you doing here?" Dawn asked, her voice on edge and almost accusatory.

Anna, realizing Dawn's confusion, smiled gently and answered, "I live here at Kali
Lumenes." Then in an almost contemplative mood, she added, "In fact, I am the Kali
Lumenes." When the answer seemed to reduce Dawn's initial anxiety, Anna added,
directly addressing herself to Dawn, "We're on the same side, you and I. I don't suppose
you were really aware of that, but we are. We have been, and I hope we will always be."

Dawn was not ready to commit herself. "I suppose that will depend upon actions."

Anna smiled, not offended by Dawn's reticence. "It always does." Then she turned to
the others. "I'm Anna Zedek. You must be Alex, and I rather suspect you're Sisi."
Alex was immediately relieved at discovering the identity of his hostess. "You're Anna!"
he acknowledged with considerable gusto. "Gil told me about you."

"But probably not much, am I right?"

Alex smiled in a macho-mischievous manner. "Not nearly enough."

Anna smiled. "Gil has always been the secretive sort. The quality has served him well.
It has probably saved his life on more than one occasion."

The remark hit Dawn below the belt. Instinctively, she retaliated. "Maybe it didn't serve
him well enough!" For a second she glared at Anna, not yet willing to be friends.

Anna responded to Dawn's challenge by disarmament. Her eyes filled with compassion
and understanding, she gently replied, "My dear Dawn. We occasionally are forced to do
things in order to accomplish greater goals. Often the innocent are hurt and not allowed
a real understanding. And for those actions of mine, I apologize to you. I'm deeply
sorry."

Dawn felt the genuineness of Anna's intentions, but still could not speak. Or forgive.

"Fortunately," Anna began, after a brief pause, "I am now able to set things right.
You've passed all the tests we might have laid in your path, even had we been
programming your journey and initiation. And now it's time for a small reward." When
Dawn's expression turned from one of suspicion to simple bewilderment, Anna added,
smiling very broadly, "Gil didn't die. He's still alive and mending quite well. I'm
expecting him here within a few days."

Dawn's mental processes went into overload. The idea was preposterous and wonderful
at the same time. Alex managed to ask a choking "What!?", but Dawn hardly noticed the
interruption. Her mind was more intent upon the practical implications. "Where?" she
finally managed to ask.

Anna gently replied, "In a very secure place in British Columbia. His supposedly lifeless
body was taken there, while you provided an unplanned but fortuitous diversion at the
airport."

Tears had begun to stream down Dawn's face, as Anna gently reached out to put her
hand on Dawn's shoulder. "The reality is that Gil was about to be compromised. He was
already under suspicion. When the accident happened, I realized our only hope was to
fake his death. It's a truism that conspirators seldom expend great efforts to find
someone they're convinced is dead. And your actions and apparently full acceptance of
Gil's death were instrumental in his enemies not questioning his fate."

When Dawn could only look at the woman, her intuition gently insisting Anna was telling
the truth, Alex took the moment to say, "It would have been nice to know that Gil was
okay."

Anna hesitated, still looking at Dawn, gauging for herself if the younger woman was
okay. Then she turned to Alex, even as she reached down to take Dawn's hand. "It was
too risky. Gil had never been able to tell any of you about our connection, about many of
the truths of the situation."

Dawn looked surprised. "Gil didn't trust us?"

"Let's just say," Anna replied, with a slight laugh, "Gil has a keen sense of
discrimination -- taking pains to discriminate between what is good and what is bad.
People under stress do strange things, and often regret their actions later. You three, on
the other hand, have shown remarkable tenacity of purpose, and now I believe it's time
to reward your perseverance."

As each of them felt a momentary sense of pride, Anna continued. "First of all, each of
you has a home here as long as you like. Considering Nathan and Kurt's obsession with
finding you, Kali Lumenes should serve you well in that regard. Nathan is unlikely to
suspect me of harboring the two of you. I have some influential friends at court, so to
speak. Therefore, there is a certain safety here."

"And Kurt?" Dawn asked.

Anna frowned. "Kurt is not above attacking me on the slightest provocation. We've
never been on what you would call friendly terms. At the same time, I think I can
anticipate any overt action on his part. In the meantime, it occurs to me the three of
you might have some questions."

All three abruptly laughed, the previous tension in the room now vanquished. Alex was
the first to take advantage of the opportunity. "Are you an extraterrestrial?"

Anna chuckled. "Ninki told me I could count on your being blunt." Then, as her smile
took a more serious note, she said, "The answer is yes and no. No, in the sense that I
was born on Earth. Yes, in the sense my parents and grandparents were not."

"And your grandfathers were Enki and Enlil?"

"I claim Enki as my grandfather. Enlil I admit to."

"Why is that?"

Anna hesitated, marshaling her thoughts. "For millennia your world has been the
battleground between different members of what can now only be described as a
seriously dysfunctional family. For a very long time, there have been anywhere from two
hundred to two thousand of us roaming about the planet, often with conflicting and
divisive agendas. The situation has evolved such that there are now two main factions
who are in strong opposition to one another. There are other minor groups making up
their own rules, but they pretty much pale in comparison to the two main antagonists.
One group, you've met: The Patrons -- primarily, Nathan and his younger brother, Kurt.
I'm also considered a member, but it's pretty well known among my kind that I have my
own goals and motivations."

"I don't understand," Sisi interjected. "How long has this been going on?"

Anna looked at the younger woman for a moment, before replying. "Let me back up a
little bit and give you an executive summary. Bring you up to date."

"My ancestors arrived on earth about a half million years ago. In the ancient texts of
your planet, they were called the Anunnaki, 'those who from heaven to earth came'.
Their purpose was to mine gold from sea water. This worked for a long time, but
eventually, when they weren't getting the production they had expected, they switched
to mining for the gold in southern Africa. About a quarter of a million years ago, the
Anunnaki miners mutinied, and threatened to shut down the all important gold
production. To forestall this, one of the leaders proposed to cross breed a local creature
you now refer to as Homo erectus with the Anunnaki genes to create a 'primitive
worker'."

"That we know about," Sisi interrupted. "Enki and Ninki doing the genetic manipulation,
Ninki as the original mother, Enki's rivalry with Enlil, the other Anunnaki."

"Good," Anna replied. "From those beginnings, mankind evolved. Sometimes the early
human evolved within the confines of 'civilization' -- those portions of the earth actively
controlled by the Anunnaki. But sometimes there were also 'strays' and 'runaways' from
the mines and other work areas of the 'civilizations' who escaped and ultimately evolved
outside of the mainstream. Keep in mind that Enki and Ninki did their genetic
experiments with Homo erectus over a long period, which accounts for the divergence of
Neanderthals and Cro-Magnon man, as well as some of the monsters of old -- genetic
experiments that went wrong. Neanderthals, for example, came first, having been
ideally suited to work in the mines."

"I'm with you so far," Alex commented.

Anna continued. "The Great Flood and Deluge came along some thirteen to fourteen
thousand years ago and wiped out most of mankind. But of course, as in all such
disasters, there were survivors all over the world, especially those on high ground. A few
managed to survive, even without Enki and Noah's Ark and thus kept the possibilities
alive. They were probably supplemented in later years by more runaways from what was
becoming something akin to a real human civilization. However, mankind was still
considered by many of my brethren to be nothing more than slaves.

"My people were always at odds with one another. The original discovery of gold on
earth stemmed directly from the results of a rulership coup on our home world. Then
there was the rivalry between Enki and Enlil for control of the earth, and then the wars
between their sons. I was heavily involved myself in several of them, although
admittedly for my own reasons. But then something changed.

"In the last major open conflict between the Anunnaki, humans were included in the
war. After that, when it was obvious an Anunnaki 'god' could be killed in a war, it was
generally agreed that mankind would thereafter carry out the wars guided by the
Anunnaki. Of course, sometimes a king went to war on his own, but usually it was an
Anunnaki or god-inspired conflict."

Anna's eyes sparkled for a split second. "However, things weren't working exactly like
we had planned. For one thing, mankind, with a much shorter life span, was breeding
like rabbits. Slowly but surely the self-appointed gods and goddesses were losing
control. There were just too many humans! It was getting to the point where the wars
were literally getting out of the control. It was in one such conflict that Sodom and
Gomorrah were wiped out by atomic weapons."

"Amazing," Alex interjected. "I had always suspected. But now, it's really true."

"It's really true," Anna replied, as she looked at Alex. Then, as an afterthought, she
added, "The decision to use nuclear weapons, incidentally, was initiated by Nathan. He
was the one who advocated the idea, carried it out, and ultimately took the heat for it.
The bombing also resulted in the end of the Sumerian Civilization from the fallout of the
radiation after being carried eastward with the winds. We had -- through Nathan -- just
destroyed the civilization our race had helped create. The end result was that Nathan’s
bid for the leadership among the Anunnaki was seriously eroded by that miscalculation."

As Dawn listened, she was remembering her conversation with Nathan, which now
seemed to be so very long ago. His questions and eagerness to justify the atomic
bombing of two cities now made complete sense. He was still carrying the guilt or the
blame, Dawn thought.

"It was a very sobering moment for us," Anna continued. We realized things could not
continue as before. The decision was made to cool it for several thousand years. Only
like most of our agreements, the peace didn't really work; each of us continuing to try
and impose our own personalities.

"For another thousand years or so, we kept up our individual empires until sometime
after the time of King Solomon, when Enlil took a sabbatical to his home planet, Nibiru.
As the heir apparent to his father, Anu, it was only appropriate that Enlil return and
spend a little time in the Royal Court. Anu was not about to relinquish command as of
yet, but it seemed a good idea for the population back on the home world to become
better acquainted with the man who would be their next leader.

"Meanwhile, Enki stayed on Earth, and despite the fact Enlil's sons headed by Nathan
were ostensibly to be the new commanders of earth, Enki persuaded the Anunnaki
council -- in order to honor Enlil's brief time away from his command -- to have a long
period of a couple of millennia as a kind of holiday for the Anunnaki. During this time
they were to cease their continual manipulation of humans. Sort of like flying the flag at
half mast for a week or so after the death of some major individual. Only this time out
period was to last for the entire astrological Age of Pisces, ‘Enki’s Age’, beginning about
600 B.C.E.

The council went along with this based in part on Enki's very clever argument that the
Anunnaki didn't want to have a lot of major decisions made while Enlil was away. Even
Enlil bought the idea -- much to the chagrin of Nathan and Kurt. Enki and Ninki then
arranged for some profound philosophies to be introduced to humankind through such
figures as Lao Tzu, Confucius, Budda, Zoroaster, and later, Jesus Christ. Enki's intent
was that the human race be given the opportunity to evolve without the Anunnaki, i.e.
the 'gods', continually meddling in human affairs.

"Of course that didn't work either," Anna said, frowning. "Or at least, not completely.
While none of us could afford to offend the council by directly challenging the decision,
there was little to discourage us from manipulating things from behind the scenes -- or
particularly during the time of Enlil being honored. The effect was that, until Enlil's
return, Anunnaki like Nathan and Kurt would be restricted to covert activities. The
problem for humankind is that the end of that time is fast approaching. Once Enlil
returns, Earth could be once again looking at open warfare between the factions.
Something we haven't seen for millennia. And something few are looking forward to."

"Are you saying most of mankind's problems are Anunnaki inspired?" Dawn asked.

"Not completely. Mankind, being the offspring of the Anunnaki, undoubtedly has some of
the genes that include the potential for belligerence, hate, fear, and so forth. But many
of the major problems are due to one or more of the competing Anunnaki factions. And
it's a lot more than just wars breaking out between two opposing sides. Mankind's future
is being thwarted in a variety of ways.

Part of the reason is simply the in-fighting among the Anunnaki. Nathan has been
leading the major group of those who are ignoring the moratorium, but he's being
effectively challenged by his younger brother, Kurt. There's also Enki's son, Nergal, who
nobody seems to like, causing problems in southern Africa. I have supposedly been on
Nathan's side, but in reality I've been working with Enki and Ninki, as well as Ningishzida
-- who introduced himself to you as Hal -- to do what is right by humankind.
"But keep in mind that Nathan and the Patrons are capable of anything. On the one
hand, science and engineering have been distorted and diverted such that the really
incredible inventions and understandings of the universe has been blocked time and time
again. Things like Maxwell's Quaternion Equations have simply been dismissed from
the literature -- with only four of the more restrictive and limiting ones still existing under
his name in the literature.

At the same time, true innovation, your understanding of the multiple dimensions of
time, so-called free energy devices which effectively tap into the virtually unlimited
energy sources of hyper-dimensional space, all of these things have been distorted and
hidden from view. The universe is incredibly more exciting than your mainstream
science has literally been allowed to imagine. Everything has been subjugated to
monetary controls, acquiring grants, and maintaining funding. Universities used to be
repositories of knowledge and research, but have since become nothing more than giant
consulting firms. Even the profound connections between science and philosophy have
been severed -- which can only be described as ludicrous. You can't have science
without philosophy!

"Humankind's development in virtually every arena has been thwarted. Medical

advancements have been held back, including such incredible concepts as the ability to
evolve DNA with the focused intentions of one's mind and heart, or by residing within
sacred geometrical structures. Fortunately, there are a few courageous scientists who
have bucked the trend and found a way to begin to demonstrate these capabilities [3].
At the same time, effective cancer cures have been intentionally blocked, and in some
cases they have been blocked by violent means."

"But why would the Patrons want to deny humans their health?" Dawn asked. "Look at
all the money ranchers spend in keeping their herds healthy!"

"You're right, of course. Cattle, pigs, sheep, even dogs and cats have better nutritional
advice than humans. But you have to look at it from the viewpoint of the Anunnaki.
Humans are no longer that valuable. There are just too many of them! Having too many
slaves is dangerous. It encourages rebellion.

“Humans might neuter their pets to keep the animal population down, but such a method
probably wouldn't work with humans. In fact, most societies won't even consider birth
control limits for themselves. Thus the most effective way the Patrons can massively
reduce the human population -- in order to bring it back under control and at the same
time not allow the humans to know what is going on -- is by disease. To this end, AIDS,
the Ebola virus, and all manner of diseases are being experimented with in order to see if
they can be used on a massive world wide scale. The only current hesitation of their
wide scale use is the inherent danger of the Anunnaki succumbing to the diseases
themselves. The Anunnaki do, after all, have some of the same genes as humans!"

"This is incredible!" Dawn exclaimed. "All the suffering and death..."

"And it's just part of what's happening. Mankind is being constantly bombarded with all
manner of mind-control techniques. Television, for example, is using subliminal
advertising to a phenomenal degree. There is even evidence that every political agenda
imaginable is being pushed by the same techniques. In fact, the best evidence of the
increased sophistication of distortion and deceit is the generally acceptable status among
the human population of the work ethic.”

Dawn laughed. "The work ethic is a mind-control technique?"

Anna smiled. "Look at it this way: The principal method of The Patrons in controlling the
masses is to keep them busy at inane and unimportant tasks such that the human
individual never stops to think or consider what is really going on, never stops to pay
attention, and never stops to listen to the sound of the universe. Workaholism is the
ultimate technique in keeping people unconscious. If an individual were simply
interested in survival, he or she would need to work only about ten hours a week.
Probably less. Much of the rest of the work is makeshift, pointless tasks to keep the
human mind occupied and distracted. Even sports, entertainment, television, movies --
all of which have become the opiate of the masses -- they're all nothing more than a
mental blitzkrieg to keep the human mind distracted from the more important aspects of
life.

"Politics is one of the biggest diversions. Totally ineffective in large part, politics
nevertheless sucks the energies of millions. Whether it's in pointless campaigning
between two different evils -- and with many people taking W. C. Field's advice and
choosing the evil they've never tried before -- or arguing over minutiae without either
side really having any sense of what's really happening, politics just doesn't amount to a
hill of beans. Even the vote counting is fraudulent -- a fact becoming increasingly
obvious. But it still consumes the mental activities of millions.

"Another example was the O. J. Simpson trial. On the one hand, there was an immense
decrease in productivity throughout the nation as everyone tuned in to the process, as
people became mesmerized -- effectively hypnotized -- with the spectacle. But at the
same time, and whether or not you might have agreed with the outcome, the one thing
that became obvious to everyone was that it was perfectly plausible for the police to
have framed him. Whether they did or not was not the point. The point was that they
could have, and no one would have been any the wiser. We may never know whether or
not he was guilty or innocent. But after watching the trial, it became clear we would
never know for certain if any accused person was ever guilty, knowing full well that
person could easily have been framed, and for any number of reasons. The justice
system was simply made defunct by that trial. The end result was meaningless, and yet
the trial had taken over the mass consciousness almost totally.

"Religion is used in the same way. Anything keeping the human mind from occasionally
quieting and getting in touch with the universe, is nothing more than just one more
technique The Patrons use to keep humans off balance. For the most part it's working.
Very effectively!"

"What about specialization," Alex asked, with a knowing glint in his eye.

"Good point," Anna replied. "Specialization is a very effective way of keeping knowledge
compartmentalized, every specialist a cog in a machine, but without a hint of what the
machine is really doing.”

"I keep thinking about when Pons and Fleischmann made their cold fusion discovery,”
Alex interjected. “One of the main arguments that their work couldn’t be ‘cold fusion’
was that neither of the professors were physicists, and that fusion was the purview of
physics. Being chemists, they were supposedly not allowed to have opinions in another
field -- particularly, contrary opinions."

Anna agreed. "Such specialization has been very effective in limiting scientific progress.
It’s wonderful at solving a particular problem, but it can also act as blinders."

"There's one other thing," Dawn interjected. "There was a third group, another major
player that Alex called the Humanki. Who are they?"

Anna laughed. "Think about it. The 'ki' stands for earth. Just as Enki is lord ("En") of
earth ("ki"); then Humanki is 'human of earth'." Dawn was delighted with the
realization, while Anna added, "As for the word, 'human', the original meaning was 'man
who hears sound', the sound being that of the 'hu'. There's even a small religion called
the Ekcankar which reveres the same word. They've discovered a small part of what's
really going on. At least they're on the right track."

"The Humanki are just humans who can hear?" Sisi asked, incredulously.

"Oh, no," Anna hastily replied. "Only those humans who hear the sound, the sound of
the universe -- a sound which is continually in one's head, but never disturbing or
distressful. It is a sound that can be ignored, but a sound to which the Humanki can
always turn their attention. As the humans develop, the sound becomes a bit like a
continual, sacred orgasm. Really quite profound."

Dawn laughed. "But why would anyone want to leave that state?"

"Many don't," Anna replied. "Many simply ascend, make the transition into another life
without dying, and eventually enter another dimension. At the same time, others take
an alternate route. Because of their compassion for their fellow humans, or for other
reasons, they stay and try to help. They're the true Latter Day Saints, Boddhi-Sattvas,
who remain in a world considerably less than the true heaven many would prefer."

As the three initiates tried to grasp it all, Anna took another tack. "Think of it this way,"
she said. "Because of an incredible genetic experiment done a quarter of a million years
ago, mankind is on a unique track. Because of one of the most extraordinary events in
the annals of the universe, your species can evolve without the baggage of their
ancestor's, the Anunnaki's.

"Ironically, my species can not reach the level you can achieve without your help. Or
more specifically, without the help of the Humanki. Enki and several more of us have
realized we must help humankind become extra-dimensional beings, so that humanity
can then help us progress along our own path. Keep in mind that time simply goes by
far too slowly for us to progress at anything like the human being's rate of development.
Especially the Humanki’s."

"But why would the Patrons be so afraid of us?" Alex asked.

"Because you breed like rabbits and have the potential to evolve even faster than we
could ever have imagined. You could easily become as we are, with all of our powers
and capabilities, and in fact, probably exceed them in rapid order."

"But how is that possible?" Sisi asked. "Don't we have the same genes, the same DNA?"

"Not exactly. In the cross breeding between our species, you received everything we
have -- all our assets and liabilities. But you also received the rapid development DNA
from Homo erectus. And it was that extra set of genes that most terrified those of the
Patrons who could understand what was really happening. Thus everything was done to
limit you, including denying you the essential elements in your diet which might activate
your latent DNA and unused brain capacity."

"You mean," Sisi asked, "Deny us the Orme?"

"That was one technique, yes," Anna replied. "Had you been allowed to develop to your
full potential, particularly with that part of your DNA which allows for an astounding rate
of evolution -- you would have been incredible, possessing capabilities beyond our
imagination! That was what was so scary. After all, after being treated as slaves, you
might have been less than kind to your former masters."
Anna smiled grimly. "But there was also another technique used on you. The best way
to think of it is as a series of viruses we implanted in your DNA. Essentially, the viruses
incorporate within your being the emotions of guilt, shame, servitude, sorrow,
separation, despair, and a belief in death -- effectively the original seven deadly sins. All
of these are aspects or emotions which have absolutely no positive use or advantage to
any soul with free will. They are pure limitation, without any socially redeeming value.
Unlike such things as anger or fear, which can, under some circumstances, be considered
to have survival advantage."

“I can see the uselessness of guilt and shame, even sorrow and despair,” Sisi replied.
“But what about servitude? And what do you mean by ‘separation’?”

“Servitude is the belief one doesn’t deserve things without pain and struggle. It’s the old
and incredibly stupid, ‘no pain, no gain’ concept. It’s the work ethic.

"Separation, on the other hand, is the belief that one is not connected but rather is alone
in the universe. Nothing could be further from the truth. As for a belief in death, that
was the most limiting. If someone fears death, they can be controlled and manipulated
in a thousand different ways. But if one truly believes that death does not exist, that so-
called dying is simply a transition into other dimensions, then that person is truly free.
Manipulation becomes a thing of the past.”

"These viruses were implanted in us intentionally?" Alex asked, suddenly very concerned.

"Yes. At the insistence of my paternal grandfather, Enlil, your species was from the
outset severely handicapped. It was a comfort factor for us that your race wouldn’t get
out of control."

"Is there a cure?" Sisi asked.

"Originally, we didn't think so. But your species has apparently once again surprised us,
and has begun to develop the techniques which allow you to remove the DNA viral
implants from your being. I say 'apparently' because I suspect Enki had something to do
with it."

"That's probably not something the Patrons would like to see," Alex commented.

"It could be quite terrifying," Anna agreed, “But fortunately the Patrons don’t seem to be
aware of the cure just yet. Or they simply don’t want to believe it. You have to realize
that the principal problem is that those like Nathan have become so fear based that they
can't bring themselves to believe the Humanki would actually help the Anunnaki. This
might make a lot of sense considering how badly they've treated humans in the past.
And someone like Nathan -- totally devoid of compassion -- can hardly be expected to
have any sense of what compassion might be about. Because he and others can't
experience this particular emotion in their own lives, they can't even imagine it in
others. Thus the Humanki have become the arch-enemy. Just like any fanatic
fundamentalist, the Patrons can't believe the radical and total change implied by the
Humanki will be in the Anunnaki's best interests, or that the Humanki will not want, and
be able to take, revenge."

"And so they want to sabotage the efforts of humans becoming Humanki."

"Yes. They don't understand. 'They know not what they do.' Unfortunately,” Anna
added, “The timing is critical. The end of the non-interference period is rapidly
approaching. There is some division on the exact ending date among the Anunnaki. It
might be the winter solstice of 2012 A.D., or sometime between 2009 and 2013. That's
when the Patrons may be able to take off the gloves and once again attempt to overtly
destroy most of humankind just in order to regain control of earth."

"Not much time," Dawn remarked.

"But perhaps long enough for the Humanki to reach a point of being capable of ensuring
that the human race will be able to defend itself. We can't count on Enki and the others
to do it for us. They can only help us become empowered. It's like raising children.
Parents have to allow their children to grow into self-sufficiency. If one always takes
care of another, the other becomes dependent and will then be at a total loss when left
on their own."

"But why can't Enki and the others help?" Sisi asked. "Aren't you helping now?"

"Being infinitely wiser than The Patrons," Anna replied, "Enki knows -- and I and the
others have come to agree with him -- that he can't force feed or lead your species by
the hand. The absolutely essential requirement is that he has to respect your free will.
At the same time, however, he can give you clues and let you figure it out for yourself.
Thus, everyone has to do their own homework and discover things for themselves. It's
the only way we can honor your free will, and at the same time, ensure that each of you
have the opportunity to learn to stand on your own two feet."

"I'm not sure I understand," Sisi replied. "What kind of clues?"

Anna thought for a moment. "Well for one thing, Enki doesn't exactly speak English, or
any other language for that matter. Instead, he speaks feelings and emotions. He uses
symbols to communicate. Symbolism is far more effective than mere words --
particularly in a world of many languages and many misunderstood words and
interpretations."

"Like, for example, crop circles?" Dawn asked.

"Among other things." For a moment, Anna paused. With the others momentarily
inundated with answers, she added matter-of-factly, "We can take some comfort in the
fact that the Anunnaki can be incredibly slow in taking action. Long lives also implies --
from the human perspective -- the ultimate in procrastination. There's even the
possibility the official date can be stretched to as far away as the year 2040 -- the timing
of another major astronomical event."

"But how in the world can the Humanki protect us?" Dawn asked, obviously concerned.

"You know about superconductors, right?" When Dawn shook her head yes, Anna
explained, "Superconductors don't have to touch for their energy to flow from one to
another. They can be at a distance from each other, and as long as they're in resonant
frequency with each other, they're one. They function as one superconductor. When you
become a Humanki, you will have a superconducting body, and no longer be exclusively
of this space-time. You'll be a light being, your mind will be one with other people's
minds. You will literally know their thoughts, and they will know your thoughts. You and
they will be literally of one mind and one heart. That connection between different
members of the Humanki makes for one incredible team effort!

"In addition, you will have perfect telepathy, you will know good and evil when it's in the
room with you, you'll be able to project your thoughts into someone else' mind. You’ll
also be able to levitate, even walk on water. Because you're flowing so much light
within you, you literally won't attract gravity. Your Meisner Field will exclude all the
other magnetic fields. You'll no longer even be constrained in this space-time. You'll be
a fifth dimensional being. You will literally think where you want to be and go there.
Just disappear. And reappear. You'll be able to heal by the laying on of hands, cleanse
and resurrect the dead within two or three days of their death. You will have so much
energy you will be able to embrace people and bring light and energy back into them.

"There are many ways to become Humanki, but the easiest way is to take the Orme,
what the Essenes in Qumrun called the Teacher of Righteousness. You and the others
will be able to become a nation of high priests, as each of you swallow the Teacher of
Righteousness, when you swallow the holy spirit, the zero-point light, the god source
within you. You'll be able to fill yourselves with this light and will know all things. You
won't have to read or study. You will just know.

"When your light body exceeds your material body, you won't have to eat food. You can,
but you won't have to. You'll have become a ‘god’ far greater than we could have
imagined."

Sisi, her thoughts running rampant, said, "How much more could anyone ever be judged
than for everyone else to know their heart and mind? Everything about someone would
be known. No more hidden agendas, no more lies, no more deceit. Everything would be
an open book."

"Sounds almost scary," Dawn said. "One would really have to have their act cleaned up."

"Probably more than we can imagine," Anna replied. "Instant manifestation without the
comforting buffer of time to correct our mistakes... It will be a heavy responsibility. But
first, you'll have to eliminate the implants of guilt, shame, and so forth. Then and only
then, absorb the mono-atomic elements, become human superconductors, become, in
effect, light beings..."

Anna paused again to make a specific point. "It's called the opening of the Book of
Light. In Revelations, it says, 'Blessed be the man who shall overcome, for he shall be
given the hidden manna, the white stone of the purest kind upon which will be written a
new name.' He will not be the same person. And all of this is encoded in your DNA just
waiting to be activated. And the way to activate it is to follow Rein's research [3] and
concentrate your heart and mind on love. Love evolves the DNA. The Orme just speeds
up the process."

For several moments Anna looked around at the three supplicants, judging their
reactions. "At 1160 degrees the white powder of gold fuses to form gold glass. It's a
transparent glass, just like window glass. In Revelations, it says, 'The streets of New
Jerusalem will be paved with gold of the purest light, as transparent as glass, and the
foundations of New Jerusalem will be made with gold liken unto glass.' The Orme is the
gold glass, the very basis of the New Jerusalem, the very basis of raising yourself and
your consciousness to a higher state, a fifth dimension. The Orme, or the highest light,
will literally activate all of your DNA, including the so-called 'junk DNA'. It will cause you
to use all of your brain again, and you will be able to return to the original state wherein
you were created -- and possibly far beyond." Anna's eyes flickered as if momentarily
trying to imagine the possibilities.

Then she shrugged her shoulders, glancing around the room. "Of course, you don't have
to take the Orme. It's not the only way. Through work, dedication, years of study and
meditation, you might be able to achieve similar results. But the routes without the
Orme are really tough. It's like being a Tibetan Monk. It takes a lot of dedication and a
lot of time. The Orme is simply the Keys to the Kingdom. In itself, it's not the answer.
But it’s the way to the answer. If you step though the door, that's your decision.
Nobody's going to make you take it."

Alex looked at the others for a moment, and then turned to Anna, "Where do I sign up?"
Anna almost laughed, before replying. She said, very earnestly, "I admire your
courage!"

Alex basked in the compliment for several seconds. Then somewhat sobered, he said, "I
know there's a heavy responsibility associated with this, but I am serious about doing it."

Sisi reflected on the possibility as well. "Certainly those who went before the Ark of the
Covenant -- the container of the Orme -- in anything but the most sacred space got
pretty well blasted to kingdom come. It's definitely not something to be taken lightly."

Dawn smiled slightly, lightening the mood. "I guess we'll all have be very careful."

When the others seem to join her in her relaxed commitment, Alex asked, "There are a
few loose ends I'm curious about. What was the Tunguska explosion in Siberia in 1908
all about? Was it a sign which was trying to tell us something specific?"

"Oh yes," Anna replied. "It was both a warning and a reassurance that even when things
were looking particularly bleak, that it was still possible to survive even the most
threatening of events."

"And the crop circles?" Sisi asked.

Anna laughed. "Think of them as Alchemy 101."

Dawn laughed. "What exactly does that mean?"

Anna thought for a moment. “The word literally means, ‘the art of Khem. Khem was one
of the early gods of Egypt.” For a moment, she paused. Virtually on cue, the door to the
commons room opened, and an apologetic woman stepped inside. Anna was
immediately attentive.

Quietly and meekly, the woman said to Anna, "You requested you be informed when..."

"Of course," Anna quickly answered. "Thank you." As the woman acknowledged Anna’s
reply, she stepped back, awaiting any further instructions. Anna turned to the others.
"I'm afraid I must leave you for now. But I'm sure we'll have other opportunities. For
the present, please make yourself at home.” Gesturing to the woman, “Aris Holyn will
arrange for accommodations for you."

As Anna rose and turned to leave, Dawn stood up as well. "Thank you for everything."

Anna stopped and turned back to face Dawn. "You're welcome." Then she left.

Dawn set back down to face the others. Alex, in his thinking mood, mused, "'Alchemy
101.' Interesting. The basics of what transformation and the universe is all about, all
done in the medium of growing crops. What a concept!”

“But can they be interpreted?” Sisi asked.

“I would think so,” Alex answered, “Clearly, the Barbury Castle design has been shown to
be a masterpiece of sacred geometry and/or hyper-geometry. And the Ickleton
Mandelbrot is definitely about fractals and the mathematical cipher used in Chaos
Theory. There are even more recent ones which tie into the mechanics of zero-point
energy. I suspect there’s a wide range of scientific and philosophical thoughts in them,
but you have to have an open mind when you study them.”
"What about the crop circle corresponding to Shoemaker-Levy?" Dawn asked. "Gil had
that one highlighted. What sort of a theory are we talking about there."

Alex smiled slightly, realizing the degree to which Dawn understood him. Then he
admitted, "Yes, well that one is rather unique. But even then, I really can't be sure."

Dawn smiled, knowing him. "Speculate," she ordered, in a lighthearted fashion.

Alex accepted the "order" easily. "Okay. On July 20, 1964, the Russian deep space
probe, Zond 3, sent back the first photos of the dark side of the Moon. The U.S. then put
the first man on the moon on July 20, 1969. The first landing of an unmanned spacecraft
on Mars was July 20, 1976. The U.S.'s Clementine space craft, after spending two
months photographing the Moon, was ejected out of an Earth-Moon orbit -- probably on
its way to Mars -- on July 20, 1994. Comet Shoemaker-Levy 9 hit Jupiter the week of
the 16th through the 23rd of July 1994 -- the biggest chunk 'splashing down' on the 25th
anniversary of the moon landing. July 20th of that same year, the crop circle you
mentioned appeared overnight in customary fashion which seemed to mimic the Jupiter
incident. The following year, on July 22nd, the Hale-Bopp comet was discovered. On
July 20, 2005, the planets Saturn and Chiron are in their fifth opposition of the 21st
Century in the signs of Leo and Aquarius -- degrees symbolized by the key words,
'conflagration' and 'concretization of an ideal'. The two symbols for July 20th itself are
'Inner rebirth through a total acceptance of the primordial values manifest in the human
body and its natural functions', and 'The intuitive weighing of alternatives'." [4]

Dawn grimaced, as if slightly uncomfortable. "There seems to be a pattern here."

Alex hesitated for just as second. "Apparently. Clearly, there's something very strange
about this date in July. But it becomes even more curious. On July 20, 1956, a group
called the Prieure‘ de Sion, a secret society allegedly derived from the Knights Templar,
and who may have had access to all manner of esoteric knowledge from the ancients --
including, supposedly, ‘the art of Khem’ -- officially registered themselves with the
French Government. In effect, they came out of the closet after some 850 years of
secrecy. There’s been speculation that many of the significant events surrounding July
20th were calculated to commemorate this 'coming out' party."

Dawn was wide-eyed. "This secret society has something to do with comets, moon
landings, and crop circles?"

"I don’t know!" Alex quickly answered. "But somewhere, somehow, someone knows how
all of this is connected. I just haven't yet been privy to some of the more esoteric
secrets."

Even Sisi looked skeptical. "But some of the events are with comets and planets and
aren't controlled by humans."

"I know," Alex replied. "It's all quite fascinating, but not easily explainable."

"I would be satisfied," Dawn said, "If I could just figure out the crop circle enigma."

“I have a feeling you’ll be figuring that one out in the very near future.”



Three days later, Gil arrived. The celebration was intense and muted at the same time.
It was itense due to the surge of emotions between the four; muted because of the
general atmosphere of Kali Lumenes, and the fact that Gil was not completely healed. At
the same time, Dawn, Alex and Sisi had begun a specific program of taking the Orme,
meditating, discarding old bad habits, and in general grounding themselves in
preparation for flights into the unknown.

In the days that followed it was soon realized Gil was on a slightly different path from the
others, his having inherited a much greater portion of the Anunnaki genes. The off hand
clue he gave was that he was two thirds Anunnaki and one third human. Consequently,
he could not progress at the same rate. While both Alex and Dawn pretty much took this
in stride, willing to allow Gil whatever time and direction he needed, the implied
vulnerability had another, stranger effect on Sisi. She was profoundly intrigued, deciding
very early on that she was going to stay close to Gil and to thoroughly investigate all of
the ramifications of what it would be like to be with such a man.

It was in one of their quiet moments alone, that she asked him about his faked death.

"When I was in the hospital, I was convinced the end was near. Imagine my surprise
when I came to in a small village in British Columbia. My first reaction was that heaven
looked a lot shoddier than I had been expecting. I could even feel all of my aches and
pains which I had assumed would have been long gone by the time I reached heaven."

"Poor baby," Sisi replied, already well on her way to being enamored with the man.

Gil could only smile. "I had had a very long life, had known many good things. I was
fully prepared to let go. Not like in my youth, when I searched high and low for the
secret of immortality. Then I was possessed. A week or so ago, I was ready for the new
adventure on the other side. I didn't want to leave, of course, but I figured I would at
least leave on a high note." Then he abruptly laughed. "But Anna had other plans! She
figured I still had karma I owed her, and she was not about to let me slip by on that
one."

Sisi's attention picked up immediately. "You have karma with Anna?" This would
require some explanation, she decided. It wasn't good to have a potential lover owing
karma to another woman! Sisi had recently become less open minded about sharing
intimate affections.

Gil looked at Sisi, guessing her concern. "I once gave Anna a very serious rebuke, one
that was uncalled for and which gave her a fair amount of grief. I then compounded it
with slander and libel at a time when such stuff really counted. Not directly in all cases,
but I did allow lies and deceptions to occur and continue. I have only lately come to the
realization she was on the wiser course, and that it behooved me to make up for my
earlier stupidity. We're now on the same side, working for the same goals."

"And you still owe her?" Sisi asked, intent upon Gil clarifying this one point.

Gil thought about it for a second. "Not really. It's just we're seeking similar results
now." Then he looked down at Sisi. "If I owe anybody, I owe you. You've been more
than kind in the last days -- taking care of me, taking time out of your own schedule to
be with me."

Sisi smiled, clearly satisfied at his answer. Reaching up to caress his beard, she said, "I
think I'd like a partial payment on that karma right now."

Gil looked puzzled, until Sisi leaned over and kissed him. With little effort, he returned
the kiss, making sure she received her due. When they finally eased back from the
moment, she took a deep breath and said, "A couple of thousand more payments like
that one and you may soon find yourself debt free!"
Gil still looked puzzled. "What about Alex?"

"Alex is with Dawn. Haven't you noticed?"

"But I thought you and Alex..."

"Alex and I were intimate friends. We were there for each other in a lot of ways. But it
was not something we expected to last forever. It was what it was, and... And it was
perfect."

Gil continued to watch the young woman, never having imagined his attraction to her
would ever bear fruit. Then he sobered slightly. "About the karma... It's not our owing
each other that matters. It's a day-to-day choice. We can do whatever is loving and
leave it at that. A man and a woman don't have to have drama and excitement or karma
in their relationship. There's plenty of all three in the outside world. The better plan, I
suspect, is to meet the external challenges as a team. Catch our excitement and indulge
in all of the dramas knowing we're always together."

Sisi swallowed at the profound implications. More than she might have asked for, it was
almost too much. Like asking for a car and getting a Lambordini. Tears welled up in her
eyes.

"There's a lot out there, Sisi," Gil added. "Enough to keep us occupied for a long time."

"I know," she answered. "It's just nice to know we're a team."

"Like Alex and Dawn?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Sisi replied. "I've always thought of myself as the innovator, the rebel,
the maverick, the one who would have the most unique relationship imaginable. But now
I think it's Alex and Dawn."

"What do you mean?" Gil asked.

"Dawn was telling me this morning that Alex and her relationship didn't seem to have
any of the old rules, that their individual spiritual evolution would take precedence over
any of the traditional duties and obligations of two people being romantically involved.
At the same time, they wanted to encourage and assist each other in that development.
Dawn's concern was that the two of them were in totally new territory, with nothing from
their past relationships which would be necessarily valid any longer. It was like they
were entering another dimension together where even the laws of physics were no longer
something they could rely on."

"Sounds fascinating," Gil replied. "But isn't that something you would want?"

"Maybe," Sisi answered, uncharacteristically hesitant to commit. "But for right now, I'd
prefer something a little more familiar -- a crazy, unique and delightful love affair. Then,
once I'm comfortable with that, perhaps we can sometime in the future follow their lead."

"That's good," Gil admitted to. "Perhaps I'm just procrastinating, but I don't think I'm
quite ready to leap into an extra-dimensional relationship."

Sisi swallowed. "Neither am I."

_________________________________________
[1] The Fire Came By, John Baxter and Thomas Atkins, Doubleday, New York, 1976.

[2] The Monuments of Mars, Richard C. Hoagland, North Atlantic Books, Berkeley,
1987/1996.

[3] Glenn Rein, Presentation at the International Forum on New Science, Fort Collins,
Colorado, September 1995.

[4] Dane Rudhyar, An Astrological Mandala: The Cycle of Transformations and Its 360
Symbolic Phases, Vintage Books, Random House, New York, 1974.
Again, The Fool

Chapter Twenty Two

She was cruising through a wasteland, when suddenly her thoughts drifted, her spirits
lifted, and her location shifted. Whereupon she found herself in a new dimension, a fifth
dimension.

Was this someone's intention, with the use of some strange invention, to crash her
dimension? What pray tell could be their intention? Aye, what would be hers? For the
dimensions of a shifting mind, drifting into a dimension without time, might not yet be
sublime.

Shifting among dimensions requires mindful intentions, and no wondrous inventions can
relieve our conventions of living in other dimensions. The manifestations of her mind,
the shiftings of her rhyme, would no longer be buffered by time. She must make a pact
to clean up her act before she left these dimensions, shifted her intentions, ignored the
inventions, and discarded the conventions - before lifting her spirits, and departing this
wasteland of her mind's shifting dimension.

For in that fifth dimension, there will be all manner of invention solely from her mind's
intention, and relieved of all convention other than those from a higher dimension.



Dawn awoke with a start, literally coming straight up in her cot, her mind still immersed
in the words and rhyming within her mind. Yet once again, in those rare moments of
sleep, strange thoughts and even stranger feelings had come to her. And of late, visits
by entities describable only as guardians of profound mysteries, arriving in her thoughts
to teach and ever so gently guide.

They had been at Kali Lumenes for two months -- time enough for the first cool
indications of a relief from the summer heat in the Eastern Mediterranean. After the first
week of reconnecting with Gil, and becoming slightly more at ease with Anna, the three
adventurers had begun their "program". For nine days they had fasted, drinking only
water -- which was only occasionally graced with the hint of lemon juice. Then for thirty-
one days, they had continued the fast, taking "megadoses" of the white powder of
occult gold, the golden tears from the eye of Horus. Then they had returned to a more
or less normal, semi-vegetarian diet, supplemented with large amounts of grape juice
and Vitalitea. The effects on their bodies and minds were astounding.

They began to sleep less and less, often for as little as two or three hours in a twenty-
four hour period. They meditated for hours at a time, feeling ever more connected, the
urge to meditate constantly increasing. The meditations began as quiet sittings upon
their cots in their small cubicles, then manifested themselves as Dawn and the others
walked in the gardens, and later while doing any number of chores about the cloister. It
became only a matter of paying attention minute by minute to the multitude of signals
coming from the universe -- seemingly provided as a suggested guidance for one's next
action, thought, or feeling. And in all ways, their thoughts felt as one.

Then there was the sound, a deep, unobtrusive hum, a "hu" sound that appeared in their
minds early on and slowly began to increase in volume as they proceeded during the fast
and thereafter. The sound was always there, but never uncomfortable. One could focus
on it or simply ignore it. But it was there, as if patiently waiting for a few moments of
one's attention. And when one did focus on the sound, the feelings of a single song, a
uni-verse, pervaded one's being. It was home. Always at one's beck and call, and yet
never possessive or invasive of one's Free Will.

Dawn smiled as she sat in her bunk, her light sleeping smock draped on her body
haphazardly and with only the slightest twists and curls from having slept in it. The
feelings she felt were of peace and delight. These were combined with curiosity for what
might happen next, and all feelings intermixed with wonder and patience. Her thoughts
were less of an intellectual nature; the reasons for the cause and effect she was
experiencing becoming less and less important. Her early fears, most of which were
based on her life before Kali Lumenes, had faded and dissipated, losing all their strength
as she had faced them and let them go. She had become more the witness to those
drifting fears, rather than being the one invested in their continuation and growth. Fear
was one of those illusory emotions, arising whenever she felt momentarily disconnected
from the oneness.

The implants of guilt and shame had been eliminated very early on. Then sorrow and
despair stole away unheralded in the night. Separation gradually became an non-entity
as the connection between the three and the universe at large took precedence over all
of their actions. The fear of death was routed after one profound experience, where
Dawn in a conscious state had found herself floating in the universe, encountering six
other ships of light, and feeling the intimate presence of her departed loved ones --
beginning with her children and husband and ending with a host of all the others who had
gone before her.

The seventh implant, that of servitude, was slightly more difficult and considerably more
insidious. A lifetime of earning her way in some fashion or another was deeply
ingrained. Within the program, it manifested as an eagerness to embrace and attack the
“problem” of becoming more enlightened, virtually on schedule and out of a sense of
duty and responsibility. How was one to become completely whole if one was not to
work at it? And work at it, Dawn had. It was the classic example of attempting to “push
the river”. But then, she came to grips with it and finally allowed control of the process
-- its timing and agenda -- to rest entirely with the universe. And in that moment, she
completed the Journey, and became, once again, The Fool.

Wearing her new persona, Dawn slowly shifted on her cot, swinging her legs to gently
curl down and touch the small mat on the floor beside her bed. As she sat there, she
decided it was three o'clock in the morning. There were no time devices in her room, but
only her sense of the darkness outside, hours before first light and the dawn. It was a
sense she had quickly learned to trust.

She then opened her mind, allowing the thoughts of others to enter. Dawn no longer
probed to discover other's thoughts or intentions. She simply allowed whatever thoughts
were offered. She could as easily shut her mind to the intrusion from others, but now, in
this more limited way, she was open to any thoughts that had been left in the ether for
her -- effectively her own version of “call waiting.” Instantly, there was Anna's presence
as she gestured to where two double doors were opening. Anna's thoughts stepped
aside as Dawn looked with her mind's eye into the space beyond the doors. There she
saw Nathan and Kurt facing each other. Nathan was speaking to Kurt, his voice and
manner betraying his frustration and unremitting anger.
"I don't think you realize the pressure I'm receiving on these two fugitives. It's been two
months since we have had any evidence of their still being on the planet!"

Kurt's reply was more concise and directed. "There is a severely limited number of
places they could go and still manage to avoid us. They are not at any of these places.
This leaves only one possibility. They must be at the one place we would, by design,
least expect."

Dawn could sense Nathan's face hardening as if begrudgingly being led to a conclusion
he would prefer not to make. "You're suggesting a turncoat in our midst."

"I see no other reasonable alternative," Kurt replied. "It’s the only thing that makes
sense. Consequently, I see no reason whatsoever that a surprise visit to her lair on
Crete would not now be next on our agenda. It's the only place on this planet our
fugitives could be!"

"I might remind you," Nathan quickly countered, "that your unannounced twin excursions
to Lake Baikal and Glastonbury six weeks ago are still having very negative fallout. We
can not be made to look like fools again. I need strong justification before we go rushing
into Kali Lumenes, and incurring the wrath of..."

"Perhaps you need justification," Kurt interrupted. "But I don't. She's betrayed us
before!"

"That was a long time ago. All of that has been officially forgiven."

"Fortunately," Kurt replied, his teeth clinched, "I have a good memory, and very little
forgiveness. Make the arrangements, big brother. I'm going to lead this assault team
myself!"

Abruptly, the scene in Dawn's mind faded, and for a moment she dwelled on her reaction
to it. Instead of fear or concern, however, she simply observed it. She knew action
would now have to be taken, yet it was more like observing a sunset, and then obliquely
deciding it might be time to turn on a light. Then she felt the presence of Gil, as her
friend and former employer beckoned her to visit him in the small room where the guests
occasionally gathered and took their multi-layered nourishment. It was a gentle
beckoning, rather like a brief message on an answering machine inviting one to call when
they had the inclination to do so. Dawn smiled and stood up. She would accept the
invitation.

As she rose slowly, and began to walk from the room, her senses picked up on the
coolness of the stone floor on her bare feet, the whiff of early morning sea air in her slow
deep breaths, and the dampness on the whole of her sensory skin apparatus. Her room
was in darkness, but she instinctively knew by some inner insight the location and status
of everything in the room as clearly as if she had 20-20 eyesight in the best lit of rooms.
As she gently opened the door to her cubicle, a dim light filtered in from the hallway.
Her mind seemed to care less about the extrasensory informational stimuli, and she
proceeded down the hallway toward the commons room.

Her thoughts momentarily drifted to the other more profound effects of her progress in
the "program". She had already had glimpses of increased telepathy -- as in the
communiqué from Anna, and far beyond her earlier capacities to sense emotions and
intentions from others. She knew she had tasted of the fruits of the Tree of Knowledge
of Good and Evil, and that she could surely know when good and evil were in the room
with her -- of even if such evil was about to visit her at Kali Lumenes. Dawn also knew
she would soon be able to levitate and bilocate as her body became superconducting
on demand.
In the interim, there had already begun the beginnings of what can only be described as
solitary sacred orgasms occurring in her body, typically without anticipation, and
initially invoking total surprise. The first ones had been like her dream of long ago in the
aircraft bound for Lake Mach. But now they were much more intense and with infinitely
greater staying power. Her whole body would feel an overpowering heat and ecstasy,
one which seemed to envelop her totally. Only to then have it gently ease its power over
her, as she reached out in her mind for a momentary stability. What she now termed
"super-extended orgasms" had then begun, and from her discussions with the others,
she realized the feelings to total rapture could become commonplace, occurring six or
seven times a day. It was almost like a universal nourishment, a reminder of her
progress -- a motivator for her to continue. It was the food of her "ka", her soul-spirit.

The effect had had a profound effect on her relationship with Alex, taking it into realms
she could not have even imagined before -- even when she had been anticipating
stunning revelations. A loving connection continued to develop between them, but none
of the normal issues of a relationship were present. Save perhaps a sense that each was
still learning from the other the lessons of androgyny. They were on parallel paths and
that was a delight. But then Sisi and Gil were also on similar paths, Gil, in particular,
providing unique insights and reasons for being. They were almost a foursome, as much
as two twosomes. Dawn obliquely wondered if they might soon discover another similar
foursome and multiply thereby their powers and understanding.

There had also begun what she thought of as visitations by "ascended masters" -- beings
which fairly radiated love and compassion. They always seemed to arrive and then
radiate for a while as Dawn grew accustomed to their presence. For several visits, they
were just there, as if awaiting her first move. Then when she had boldly asked the
reason for their visit, one simply communicated to her mind that they were there to
respond to her. Dawn had abruptly realized the implications, and begun to ask
questions.

Eagerly, they had responded with answers, always presenting them with a precise caring
and knowledge of the state of the woman asking them. But it was Dawn's questions
which generated the discussion. It was her agenda. There had never been any
"masters' agenda" -- if such a thing even existed -- to infringe upon hers. She could ask
and receive complete answers, but other thoughts were never offered -- it was a
question of Free Will -- as if a "prime directive" existed to prevent any kind of
interference in the growth of a sentient being, even to the point of suggesting or
initiating in conversation an idea not originally hers.

Intriguingly, Dawn had also realized her questions were not just simply answered.
Instead, her inquiry had simply been an excuse for the masters to remind her of the
answers already at her beck and call. It was as if the teacher and pupil had agreed to
pretend the pupil had questions and the teacher had answers -- when in reality both
knew the answers to all questions and the "teacher" had simply remembered the answer
a split second before the "pupil".

As Dawn approached the commons, where Gil was quietly sitting, Dawn felt a sudden
shift in her universe. The door to the commons had begun to sparkle like a clear night
without moonlight, and Dawn had become a light being without the constraints of matter
and mass, moving into the midst of stars and atoms as they enveloped her in a deep,
rich blue of immense comfort and gentleness. Then, just as quickly, she found herself
inside the door to the commons, the stars and night vanished, and the alleged reality of
a three-dimensional space and one-dimensional time frame of reference reasserting
itself.
The brief excursion left her amazed and breathless. Blinking several times, she then
turned to where Gil was sitting with his own equally amazed expression. Resorting to old
communication techniques, Dawn abruptly asked out loud, "What was that!?"

Gil almost laughed, as if relieved Dawn was as human as he felt. Then smiling, he said,
"Perhaps you shifted dimensions." When Dawn could only look at him, Gil added, "You
wanted to go through the doorway, and you simply stepped into another dimension
momentarily in order to do so. Once you had manifested that intention, you stepped
back out. And now you're here."

Dawn felt a smile cross her face as she realized that was exactly what had happened.
Without another word, she took a chair across the corner of the table from Gil and closed
her eyes. Her mind formed a question and then felt the response, gently provided in
linear, verbal terms: "Within many of the higher dimensions, there is instant
manifestation. One thinks a thought and it is. There is no buffer of time; there is no
delay or opportunity to ask, 'Is this really what I want?' The thought becomes reality,
even when the thought is random, careless, or unconsidered. There are no limits or
boundaries within many of the higher dimensions. Whatever is thought is instantly made
manifest within the reality of that soul."

"And thus one must be very careful what one thinks," Dawn added in her mind.

"Of course," came the answer (or the reminder). "In the four-dimensional time and
space, there is the benefit of time, when one can reconsider their desires, when one can
have the leisure to formulate a thought, to gather data as to its desirability and precise
nature, and then to reformulate the thought until it is exactly one's considered desire.
Then, by a process of continual and consistent thought over a period of time, one's
desires can be made manifest."

"And in higher dimensions," Dawn replied, "there is no time. No moment to reconsider,

no opportunity to say, 'Wait a second'." There was no reply to Dawn's statement, only
her own inner knowing of its accuracy, and the subtle legal implication of "Silence implies
consent."

Then another realization struck her. "And this could be the basis for bilocation," she
abruptly thought. "Simply shift into a higher dimension, think oneself at whatever time
or location, and it's manifested. Then back into the space-time dimension at whatever
point one desires -- be it a shift in the spatial and/or the time coordinates!" The reply
was again silence, but one laced with broad, delighted smiles on what might be
construed as the faces of Dawn's "teachers".

Dawn smiled in return (with Gil watching intently and silently picking up on the mental
conversation going on between Dawn and the others). Then Dawn picked up on a
question in Gil's mind. Dawn silently asked the question. "And healing someone fatally
wounded... Could one shift with them into a higher dimension, heal them instantly, and
then return? Could this be the way to provide instant healing? Even raising the dead?"

The response was subdued. Gil instantly felt the lack of encouragement for his having
invaded Dawn's space to ask his question. At the same time, there was no judgment
against Gil for having stepped out of line -- only his own realization he had slipped up,
and his instant decision to work on it.

"One never heals another," the words reminded the two of them. "One facilitates or
reminds another of their power to heal themselves. But it is an act done only with
permission. The wounded may have other higher plans for dealing with their wounds. If
they ask for help, and ask not purely out of fear, then you may assist in the least
invasive manner. But even then, you must ask the higher self of the wounded person.
Cut off from their higher self, the wounded may have temporarily forgotten their purpose
in incurring the wound. 'Temporarily', of course, is a temporal concept -- and not
suitable to the higher dimensions."

Dawn pondered for a moment of time. Then she smiled, silently whispering, "Thank
you." Opening her eyes again, she looked at Gil. "And thank you," she added. "For the
question."

Gil smiled in return. "You've come so far," he said, almost wistfully. "You've surpassed
me already. In all my time upon this earth, I could not have evolved to such an extent."

Dawn was momentarily surprised by the observation. She thought to protest, but
instantly realized Gil was speaking a truth -- one not to be protested. Instead, she
asked, "Why is that?"

Gil shrugged and did the minimalist version of a quick laugh. "The universe is not only
blessed with a marvelous sense of humor, but an ironic one as well. When the
Anunnaki jump-started your evolution, they also, inadvertently, created a karmic
limitation on their own growth. And inasmuch as I'm genetically close to them, on my
growth as well. Thus it's slow going for me. But then again, I have a great deal of time
to work on it."

"But why should it be slow for a particular set of genes?" Dawn asked.

"I don't know," Gil replied, "But I suspect it was due to taking the Orme before being
ready. Instead of evolving from it, we wallowed in it. We became addicted to the
powers and longevity it provided, but without taking responsibility alongside our new
found abilities. At the same time, it was perhaps perfect in that the Anunnaki then
created you, never suspecting that it was in order for you to be able to reach a position
where you could help them on their path of spiritual growth."

"A strange but natural interdependence," Dawn suggested.

Gil looked at Dawn with considerably more intensity. "Their evolution, as well as mine,
now seems tied to yours. Our greater purpose seems to be that we must facilitate your
reaching the next level, where hopefully, you will then reach back down and raise us to
our new level. Something on the order of a leapfrogging between races, one always
helping the other to the next evolutionary plateau." Gil shrugged slightly. "It seems a
sound policy. Just like something the universe would conjure up for its own
amusement."

Dawn thought for a moment. Slowly a smile came over her face. Quietly, she extended
her hand to Gil, symbolically giving him a pull up to the next level, allowing her friend to
join her.

An uncharacteristic tear came to Gil's eyes as he took Dawn's extended hand and
grasped it firmly. For a moment the two beings sat there, their arms interlocked, looking
to the casual observer as if they were arm-wrestling, but without yet expending any
physical effort.

After a brief excursion into what the Greeks called kairos time -- when one "participates
in time," losing all track of its passage -- Dawn spoke. "I'm reminded of something I
think Voltaire once said. Something to the effect that God, the ultimate creator of the
universe, was a comedian, but unfortunately he was playing to an audience too scared to
laugh."
Gil could not help but grin. "My kind of God," he admitted.

Then, slightly sobered, Dawn asked, "And the others?"

Gil grimaced slightly, releasing Dawn's arm and retrieving his own. "Nathan, Kurt, and
not a few of the others are still living in fear. They just haven't figured out their true
destiny. They will continue to fight us -- even as they are preparing to do now."

Dawn immediately felt the underlying meaning in Gil's words. "Yes. I received a warning
from Anna. We now need to consider our response."

Gil's expression indicated that he agreed. But before he could reply, both felt another's
presence. It was Sisi approaching the common room. Gil said quietly, "Anna gave me a
few suggestions. We'll discuss them in a moment, when the others are here."



After Sisi had joined them, and within minutes Alex, Gil summarized the situation. "As
you may already be aware, Kurt is planning a frontal assault at dawn, apparently out of
desperation. Anna has suggested -- and I agree -- that it is not time for us to make a
stand at Kali Lumenes."

"But it's too soon," Sisi replied. "We're not ready. Or, at least, I'm not."

"You may be more ready than you think," Gil suggested. "But regardless of whether or
not we're ready to do battle with Kurt, the fact remains he's now on the attack, and Kali
Lumenes is his next target. After his fiasco at Lake Baikal and Glastonbury six weeks
ago he's desperate for a win."

"What about the others?" Alex asked.

"There has been a continual effort to ferret them out," Gil replied. "But they've
countered effectively and have scattered. There are now a dozen or so independent
groups, all with the same goal. They've become mobile and are constantly on the run,
but they're persevering, and even though it’s somewhat slower than expected, they are
getting the job done."

"It seems to me that we have to help them," Sisi interjected, the tone in her voice
suggesting she was already mentally packing her bags.

Dawn noticed that she did not feel the same urgency. For a moment it puzzled her.

Until Gil explained. "Not all of us." Gently and directly to Sisi, he said, "You and Alex
and Dawn are doing precisely what you're supposed to be doing. It’s not time for you to
rush into the battle between 'the servants of light and the servants of darkness'. We can't
be sure if you abort the process now, even temporarily, whether or not you can then get
back on track."

Sisi was insistent. "They're my friends, Gil."

"And there is a world of humanity which needs you more," Gil replied. "But it needs you
whole and fully prepared." After a brief pause, with Sisi not yet ready to reply to the
charge, Gil said, "Anna and I have infinitely less to risk. Anna, in fact, is already into the
fray -- even if apparently Nathan and Kurt are not fully aware yet of her true
allegiances. I can join Anna, covertly, and begin the fight for you. The three of you can
then join us when you're ready; when you're free of a momentary emotion unbalancing
your better judgment.

"I don't think it's a 'momentary emotion'," Sisi replied, her voice insistent. For a
moment, the two willful individuals looked at each other.

Then Gil spoke. "It's too dangerous." When it was clear the argument had not worked
on Sisi, he continued. "The lesson of the Anunnaki, and myself as well, is that we began
taking the Orme before we were ready for it, before we were wise enough to use the
powers it entailed. We never acknowledged our responsibilities in doing so, and thus
didn’t take the Orme in the proper manner -- in the manner in which you are now doing.
But if you interrupt the process now, you may fall into the same trap. In effect, you may
rush in where angels fear to tread. Well, there’s a reason angels fear to tread there:
We're the reason! The abilities and longevity we enjoy... Or perhaps, the better word is
endure... These are not such a wonderful thing without the consciousness to go along
with it. You mustn't fall into the same trap!"

There was a pause in the conversation, until Gil interrupted the impasse. "Anna and I
have nothing to lose, comparatively speaking. We can take action, while the three of you
remain here. But even with our best efforts, the best we can do to help the others is to
alleviate the pressure being imposed on them by Nathan and Kurt." When the others
just looked at him, he added, "Anna and I will gather their undivided attention and focus
it in another direction. We'll set up a diversion."

"Gil's right," Alex said. "Everyone at the Site knew this could happen. We planned for
it."

"Sisi," Dawn began, her voice gentle and very understanding. "Do you remember, some
weeks ago, when Alex talked about tweaking the minds of more than one highway
patrolman? When he fantasized about roaring by one after the other, and in each case
then taking off like a hot-rod UFO?" The tension in the room immediately lessened, as all
the others grinned and Dawn continued. "We all agreed then that Alex's fantasy was a
very bad idea! We’re no longer allowed the luxury of responding from anything but the
best intentions."

Alex, looking at Sisi with gentle eyes, added, "If I've learned nothing else in the last
three months, it's this: Every soul chooses their own experiences, and I am not
sufficiently all-knowing as to judge when I should assist or how I should 'save' my fellow
man. My 'prime directive' is not to interfere with another soul's path -- including those of
my friends. But instead, my higher good is to serve as an example. I can be a very
good example."

"And if someone asks for your help?"

"The best way I can answer," Alex continued, "is by a medical analogy. I can be the
equivalent of an Emergency Room, where I can facilitate stabilizing someone's condition
and allowing them the time to heal themselves. But if it's an acute illness or disease, my
helping may be self-serving at best, and may actually interfere with the other person's
growth and evolution. I'm not helping anyone if I give them the answers on their test. I
can only be that example, that suggestion of how another person might choose to
answer their own tests."

Quietly, Dawn said, "We have a sacred trust here. We have to complete what we've
begun."

Sisi knew it was a losing battle, but she was not quite ready to let go of it. "And what
constitutes completion? How do we even know when we're ready?"
"I can't speak for you. When you're ready may be different from when I'm ready."

"Yeah, well," Sisi replied reluctantly, "I'm not ready yet. So there!"

Alex involuntarily laughed, and the others smiled at Sisi, until she relaxed as well. Gil
took her hand, making his feelings for her crystal clear. Alex then added, "The sense I
get is that not only should we be doing nothing offensive, but we can't even afford to
take offense! Even when it's our friends we're worried about."

Gil then added, "I think that's wise advice. Something I should have learned a long time
ago. I now know that such things as vengeance, in any form, is nothing more than an
Achilles' heal. It may be the one thing that prevents our ultimately helping."

"Something running through my head yesterday," Dawn interjected, "Was that if we’re
not able to let things be, and instead, insist on following our own agenda, the result of
our program is that we may simply ascend, and not come back. Instead of becoming a
'Latter Day Saint', we would simply move on. If that's the case, we won’t be able to stay
in order to offer the same choice to others. Helping before we're ready might make us
martyrs, but won't allow us to help later on. We have to be wise enough to know every
wrong cannot necessarily be made right by our actions.”

"Simply put," Sisi acknowledged, "Thoughts are now reality! And my thoughts are not
quite under control yet. I'm still in the paradigm of fighting fire with fire."

Gil abruptly laughed. Smiling at Sisi, he said, "Anna and I are not loath to bring a little
fire to the situation to perhaps buy some time. But then again, we have a lot less to
lose."

Dawn didn't buy it. "You will have to come to the same point yourselves. The two of
you, despite the profound physiological differences, will still have to take the same leap
of faith."

"The difference is," Gil countered, "Anna and I have the time to make mistakes. Once we
see the three of you come into your own, we can begin our own, very slow process.
Remember, we don't change easily or quickly. Comparatively, it's a very slow process. I
may be able to evolve faster than Anna, but I'm still quite slow compared to the three of
you."

Dawn smiled, knowingly. "Your growth may turn out to be a lot faster than you think."

Gil looked at Dawn, considering her words. Shrugging his shoulders, he decided it was
not yet time for him to know the full import of her statement. Instead, he returned to
the second item on his agenda. "There's just one other, minor detail." As the others
braced themselves -- already aware of Gil's tendency to understate -- Gil lowered his
eyes and matter-of-factly said, "We're going to need a destination for our escape. Not
just leave Kali Lumenes, but have somewhere to go"

The momentary silence in the room did not carry the normal tension and surprise.
Instead, there was the sense of having known something, but not consciously
recognizing it until it was pointed out. Then Dawn smiled. "I rather suspect you already
have somewhere in mind."

Gil looked at her for a split second, and then answered simply, "England."


Dawn, Alex and Sisi had learned over the last weeks to live frugally, and carry next to no
baggage. (It's the best way to go through life: i.e. with as little baggage as possible --
particularly, old baggage.) Thus the packing and preparing to leave scenario lasted just
under twenty minutes. By that time, in the deep darkness of the hour before first light,
all four of them were making their escape from Kali Lumenes -- scampering over the
south wall and dropping down to the edge of the rocky cliffs overlooking the sea.

Their unorthodox departure turned out to be quite appropriate, in that two men had
secretly stationed themselves in a nearby building to watch the only serviceable
entrance/exit to the cloister. The two men were, in turn, waiting for the arrival of three
V.I.P.'s who would be arriving in the early hours after sunrise. This threesome would be
arriving without fanfare, and ostensibly with total surprise. Rather like the bank
examiner arriving at the unsuspecting local repository of other people's money
preparatory to checking the books -- books that were normally cooked.

Scrambling down the cliffs, Dawn, Alex, Sisi and Gil made their way onto the rocks
jutting out into the sea. A small fishing vessel was thirty to forty yards offshore, slowly
proceeding around the squared off protrusion of the island into the sea. The vessel was
carefully hugging the shoreline at the island’s point ostensibly in order to save fuel. The
four fugitives saw the fishing vessel's running lights and knew they were on schedule.
With no further hesitation, all four dived into the water and began swimming for the
vessel.

With Alex keeping a watchful eye on the less accomplished swimmer, the four
approached the boat, swimming around the bow of the boat, as it slowed to
accommodate them. Shielded from view of any spies on the land by the boat's
wheelhouse, the swimmers grabbed a small fishing net, draped over the side, and began
to scramble aboard. Once on board, the four slipped into the bunk area below the
wheelhouse, as two sailors pulled the net back aboard. The boat's engines continued to
operate just as before, and thereby caused no difference in the sound of the engines.
But with the net no longer over the side -- resulting in a definite drag -- the boat began
to make better headway and slowly sailed away from Kali Lumenes

As the first light of dawn began to dissipate the darkness, the fishing vessel with its four
unauthorized passengers was heading out into the Bay west of the ancient city of
Phaestus and proceeding due west. By the time the vessel had reached Cape Krios, on
the southwestern tip of Crete, the fishing vessel and its occupants encountered a large,
black helicopter flying eastward. The helicopter took no notice of them -- in fact, barely
saw the fishing vessel, the pilot more concerned about the glare of the early morning
sun. The helicopter's three passengers, meanwhile, were more intent upon their
destination: a small field near Kali Lumenes, where a private car was awaiting their
arrival. Everything had been well scheduled ahead for the convenience of the
"examiners" -- which, of course, was why Gil and the others had chosen their particular
escape route. It is a truism that there are virtually no well kept secrets among the
population of a small village in the backwaters of an island in the middle of a great sea.

From the wheelhouse of the fishing vessel, Gil watched the helicopter fly over. He
glanced at Dawn, who was sitting in a small cubby hole just aft of where he was
standing. But her eyes were closed. Gil took the hint and turned his thoughts to the
idea of how many fish they could expect to catch this time and other mundane thoughts.
One could never tell who might be listening in, and none of the four were sufficiently
certain their powers could protect the privacy of their thoughts from a concerted effort by
others. As he looked at the vessel's captain, the old grizzled sailor responded with a
toothless grin, a shudder to indicate the coldness of the water, and then returned to his
piloting. Gil smiled, as he sensed the inherent willingness of humans to assist others.
An hour later, the four novice "fisher kings" were skirting the northwest corner of Crete
and beginning the process of heading into open sea. Gil glanced at the navigational map,
making a quick judgment on their progress toward the Greece mainland. It would be
about four hours, Gil decided before arriving at the small port on the southeast tip of the
Peloponnesus. 'Mid afternoon,' he said to himself. 'And then overland to the small
private airport, where they would find their private jet.'

Then he noticed on the same map, the location of the ancient ruins of Khania east of the
northwestern tip of the island. Also known as Cydonia, it reminded him immediately of
the area by the same name on Mars where the enigmatic Face of Mars was located. 'It's
a small universe,' he thought. 'And everything is connected in so many unique and
fascinating ways.'



By the following day, the foursome had landed on the Peloponnesus, acquired a car to
take them to the isolated, private airport, and then boarded a private plane bound for the
south of England. A few more of the remaining gold coins had been expended in the
process, but there seemed to be no regrets. Gold is, after all, only a means to an end.

The private plane's route, meanwhile, was a masterpiece of national politics. There was
the initial requirement for an easterly trek in order to avoid the near-perpetual conflict in
Bosnia-Serbia-Croatia-Macedonia, then a northwesterly course, just off the eastern coast
of Italy and beyond its international boundaries. This was followed by a relatively low
flying oblique crossing of the northern portions of Italy and the Swiss Alps, and then a
run northward along the approximate border between Germany and France, being careful
to appear to each country's radar as if it were flying across the other's sovereign
territory. (And because the Germans were notoriously more efficient, the private plane
tended to "err" on the side of France -- the French always being more tolerant of mischief
and subterfuge.)

It was during the time when the low-flying plane was approaching the Netherlands
(probably the only country in Europe which was not paranoid about its aerial borders),
that the first verbal salvos were being fired in England.

"Apparently," Kurt was saying with all the available intimidation and threat at his
command, "You are not aware of who I am, or who I represent!"

The woman, who would not be cowed by the likes of Kurt, answered with the total
assurance of someone acquainted with the facts -- and who knew her boss had the
power to back her up. "I know all too well who you are, and who you represent.
Everyone in Avebury does. But the one I serve does not feel the same urgent need to
meet with you as you appear to meet with him."

Kurt was not to be dissuaded. "The Lord of the Command is returning! In the very near
future! Will your master feel a greater urgency to meet with him?"

"I'm afraid," the woman replied, standing up to Kurt in every measure, "that such a
question is irrelevant to our discussion. My only instructions at this time concern you.
He will not see you."

"And I will be damned if he doesn't!" Kurt shouted.

"Undoubtedly," the woman replied only partially under her breath.

Turning on his heels, he walked briskly from the room. 'There was more than one way to
skin a cat,' he thought. And Kurt was fairly certain he knew the whereabouts of this
particular cat. Within minutes, his limo had reached Silbury Hill -- after Avebury, his first
estimate of where to best find his quarry.

At roughly the same time, Dawn and the others were flying over the countryside of
Southwestern England. With Gil and Sisi otherwise occupied, Alex and Dawn spent their
time, looking for crop circles in the late summer fields. Most of the crops had already
been harvested, but Dawn thought she saw one that was uncannily familiar. It was
surrounded by a harvested field and a large square of standing wheat -- as if someone
had left a canvas for the artist to complete her work. Dawn smiled, silently thanked the
unknown farmer who had felt compelled to leave a portion of his crops standing for a few
more weeks.

Then the aircraft began to approach the most famous monolithic structure in England,
the small grouping of massive stones called Stonehenge. For a moment Dawn observed
the area from a distance. Then she turned to Alex.

Alex picked up on her interest immediately. Almost spontaneously, he said,

“Stonehenge is reputed to have been built three to four thousand years ago. And yet,
the locations of the stones demonstrate that the builders knew the exact distances to
each of the visible planets, as well as their relative sizes. They were also aware of the
various geometries which connect all of the planets’ orbits in our solar system.”

“The planets are connected with geometries?”

Alex smiled. “Of course, what else would you expect?” For a moment the two simply
smiled. Then Alex added, “A fellow named John Martineau put out a book a few years
back [1], which showed conclusively that every single planet’s orbit was connected to
every other planet’s orbit by simple geometric figures such as five and six-pointed stars.
At the same time, the physical sizes of the Earth relative to the Moon, as well as to
Mercury and Saturn are also connected with geometries.”

“That can’t be by chance,” Dawn replied.

“It isn’t. The physical mechanism may not be obvious, but all of the planets’ orbits, and
some of their sizes, are related not only by geometry, but as I rediscovered several years
ago, by what is known as the Golden Section -- a transcendental number that is
apparently fundamental to everything in the universe.”

Dawn smiled. “Why am I not surprised?”

“Because you know that everything’s connected, and what better connection than one
that is sacred? The fact the connection is geometrical is just, from my viewpoint, icing
on the cake.”

Dawn laughed slightly, but just enough to catch the attention of Sisi and Gil, who had
been involved in their own private interaction in the aft portion of the airplane. Sisi
looked forward, a broad smile on her face, as she observed Alex and Dawn. One might
have thought that she and Gil had been privy to Dawn and Alex’s entire conversation.



Shortly thereafter, Dawn and the others were landing in Bristol. Their subsequent
reception was distinctly different from Kurt’s. On the one hand, Kurt was receiving no
positive feedback at all from the locals in the Silbury Hill District. Few if any seemed to
know anything, and the ones who might have had a clue did not warm to Kurt's
urgency. Despite the blank stares, however, Kurt nevertheless decided that the one
known locally as the "Fisher King", the one who the obstinate woman of Avebury served,
was not in the immediate area of Avebury and Silbury Hill. After two hours of pointless
haranguing, Kurt backtracked slightly and then headed south toward Stonehenge. The
latter was an unlikely place to find his quarry, but the old King he sought had always had
an emotional attachment -- in Kurt's mind, a weakness -- for the famous ring of
monolithic, erect stones. It was the second of the three most likely places to find the
one Kurt was seeking.

Meanwhile, Dawn and the others were met at Bristol with unexpected cordiality and
respect. The fact their passports showed no official entry or exit visas to or from Greece,
and no exit visa from Egypt, seemed not to matter at all. An English entry stamp was
obligingly provided, and the guests of the British Empire were warmly welcomed. In fact,
they were so warmly received that Dawn had been quite surprised.

Gil, however, was quick to point out that the extended courtesies were likely the result of
some extraordinarily well connected individual paving the way for them. Rather like the
Queen of England showing up unexpectedly just so her very best friends can be taken
care of in appropriately British, upper-crust style. Only in this case, the well connected
individual apparently had a much higher rank than the mere Queen of the British
Commonwealth.

The only flaw in the proceedings at Bristol was that Gil was to take his leave of them
there. He and Sisi had spent virtually the entire flight from Greece in close and intimate
contact, so the good byes were less heart-wrenching. And there was the sense they
would always be connected, and in all likelihood, in a physical sense in the very near
future. But neither had any guarantees, and it took a concentrated effort on both their
parts to exercise their recently established faith in order to keep themselves going. As
for parting being such sweet sorrow... Balderdash!

With Gil taking the first flight to London, the original three desperadoes left in the car
provided by their benefactor and headed south for Glastonbury. At roughly the same
time, Kurt received intelligence of exactly where his quarry was, and immediately turned
west -- heading for the same village of England, with its profound history and tradition.



The vehicle arrived just outside the stock wooden gates of an ancient stone wall. Alex
stepped out of the car first, and was immediately impressed by the height of the wall.
The driver, noticing his expression, said quietly, in a heavy accent underlain with a Welsh
ancestry, "Tis sum ate and a half foote tall!" His guess was close enough. But to be
precise, the intended height was exactly 8.545 feet -- the product of two fundamentals,
one of which was distinctly local to the area and known as the “megalithic yard” (and
which measured 2.72 feet).

Alex was impressed (and would be more so when he knew more). For several minutes
he admired the structure, while the women joined him on the cobblestones representing
the nearest thing to a curb in the vicinity. And then, without further ado, the driver bid
them farewell and drove off. It took only a moment for Sisi to assume her regular hubris
and attempt to open one of the twin gates. The gate immediately responded and swung
open easily and with little noise.

As the three stepped inside, they found a heavily wooded and forested area (mostly
ancient oaks). The spot could easily have been a model for a medieval and very dense
Sherwood Forest -- a place where rogues and outlaws could escape the clutches of the
law for years on end. The greenery was absolutely intense, with multiple shades vying
for their own small place in the sun and scarcely anywhere an empty patch of sky. Dawn
immediately felt the sacredness of the spot, seeing all the accouterments of a Druid
temple: Massive oaks, boulder sized rocks located within and amongst the greenery, and
the sounds of a small babbling brook -- the latter, for the moment, still unseen.

From behind her, Dawn heard the sound of a heavy click -- a security bolt being
engaged. She turned toward the wooden gates, as did her companions. All three
instinctively knew they had just been locked in. Or the rest of the world locked out.
Whichever one preferred.

Sisi accepted the locked gate, took a deep breath and begin to walk deeper into the
wooded area. The barest outline of a path caught her eye and she followed it without
hesitation. The others, in turn, followed Sisi, each person looking about the area like a
typical tourist from Scarsville, Iowa on their first visit to the Big Apple. The area was
lush beyond imagining, an example of the extent and prolific ability of Mother Nature's
green thumb. When the path encountered the rocky and moss-laden brook, the scene
became almost surreal. One would have expected Merlin to show himself at any moment
with Excalibur in hand, ready to hand it over to the new monarch.

Instead, the path curled around and through the greenery on every side, until it reached
a short section where just ahead stood two upright, four-foot-tall stone pillars. Behind
the entrance represented by the pillars was a small clearing surrounding by oak trees,
twisting vines, and the horseshoe meandering of the babbling brook. Sisi came up short
at seeing what lay ahead, and for just a moment she simply stared. Dawn stepped
beside her and marveled as well, while Alex was content to see it all from behind. Then
without a word, Dawn began moving toward the stone pillars, stones she somehow
instinctively identified as "Herms." Drawing abreast of them, she stopped, removed her
shoes and socks, and then -- very gingerly -- stepped into the clearing.

Her immediate reaction was intense! An incredible antiquity, combined with a sense of
the most profound foreboding descended upon her. Almost as quickly, she felt the
empowering sacredness, a sacredness guaranteeing the safety and sanctity of every
enlightened disciple who dared to enter and step upon holy ground. Then she noticed
the figure, ostensibly a very old but still robust man, sitting on a low rock, his attention
on a small patch of dry sand at his feet, where he was drawing small interlocking circles
with the point of a tree branch -- a branch green and still growing and held easily in one
hand. Dawn watched him for a moment, but saw no indication of an awareness on his
part of their arrival. Dawn intuitively identified the man as none other than Enki himself.

Then, as she became aware of Sisi and Alex's standing next to her, she took her intense
focus off the old man and glanced around. Her attention was immediately captured by
three rocks, similar to the one upon which Enki was sitting. Apparently, judging from the
rocks, they were expected.

Dawn could not help but smile, as she stepped toward the rock furthermost to her right,
and then set down. Sisi followed Dawn's lead and took the rock next to hers. Alex then
set down on the rock to the left of Sisi and quietly awaited the next move. Sisi glanced
at Dawn to see if she would take the initiative, but seeing Dawn's complete attention on
the enigmatic figure before them, decided to leave it at that. Sisi was feeling the need to
remain still and wait.

Quietly, the moments progressed unhindered -- as if time was no longer on the agenda,
or even particularly noticed. Everything was in its essence and nothing more was
needed.

Dawn and the others watched Enki, as he continued to quietly drag his stick across the
sand. Dawn suddenly had the sense she was in the presence of the legendary Fisher
King, the same entity they had once called Oannes. For several long moments she was
mesmerized, until a realization hit her. Instead of watching him, she turned her
attention to the figures being drawn in the sand. She immediately recognized several of
them as the ones she had talked about with Alex when discussing crop circles. But then
just as one sand drawing registered its symbolism on her subconscious, Enki's other
hand would come out and wipe away all trace of the drawing with the quick whisk of a
feathery broom-like brush. New symbols and figures would then appear with incredible
precision, only to be casually wiped away in their own time. It was the Druid version,
Dawn decided, of audio-visual aids in a lecture. Only it was a lecture without
explanations -- just the momentary appearance of lines and circles, curves and
discontinuities; geometries which were quickly replaced by the next set.

As Dawn watched, her subconscious storing data sufficient to rival the most advanced
computer, her conscious mind began to piece together the disparate actions she was
witnessing. In the sand drawings, she saw a multitude of geometrical concepts, from
sacred to hyper to post-Euclidean, and virtually everything in between. She saw within
the symbolism: stars and fractals, common patterns in the celestial and earth-bound
spheres, visions of the past and future, all things repeating in space and time. The
creations included crop circles of the past, along with those still in the future. There were
designs more akin to technical drawings and blueprints, but with an incredible efficiency
of only as many lines as absolutely needed. There were hints of actions to be taken, of
philosophies to be pondered, and in all cases, the suggestion that enlightened devotion
was not only required, but was, at heart, the very essence of life. It was indeed,
Alchemy 101 -- with a smattering of graduate courses on the same subject.

The silent tutoring session spanned two and a half hours, but no one seemed to notice
the time. Even the hard rock seats failed to distract anyone from the process. But then
Enki suddenly looked up, his mind seeing far beyond the local space. His expression
became momentarily intense, but then softened into a curious smile. Actually, it was
more like a sneaky grin -- as if he assumed he had the upper hand or yet another ace up
his ancient sleeve.

His smile vanished as he stood up. He began walking out of the clearing, through the
twin pillars, and abruptly turned off the path between two uninviting bushes. Dawn knew
instinctively they were to follow and did so. Once past the bushes, they found a less
traveled path, grass growing as if it had seldom seen the foot of man. But it was a path
nonetheless, gently skirting the trees and rocks.

Within moments they came to a small, mist covered lake. There four small skiffs rested
on the bank. Enki pushed one into the water's edge, and stepped aboard. He then
waited, staring into the mist. Dawn, without hesitation, stepped onto the same skiff, and
without any acknowledgment, her guide leaned on his tall staff and the skiff moved
silently away from the bank. Alex and Sisi, with as little hesitation, took a second skiff,
and with Alex yielding the staff, slipped into the water behind Dawn and Enki. Together
the two light craft left the forest, floating toward a distant mist.

A space separated the two skiffs, a distance Alex could not quite close despite his best
efforts. As Dawn and Enki begin to vanish into the edge of the mist, Alex and Sisi could
only plunge in as well, relying on faith as to where they were going and the hope they
were keeping up.

Dawn, meanwhile, was at peace as she sensed the presence of something she could only
identify as the legendary Avalon. But then sounds from behind them caught her
attention. The remaining two skiffs, originally situated further from the lake's edge, were
being quickly moved into the water. Accompanying the launchings were orders and
grunts -- all of the signs of beings unaccustomed to silent communications, or to moving
through water with stealth as a companion. The poles of the other skiffs made
themselves known by clumsy splashes and careless bumps on the side of the wooden
boat frames. The occupants were similarly indisposed to according honor to the
quietness of the surrounding lake, and urgently discussed the need to catch the other
two skiffs.

Out of the mist, an ancient castle suddenly reared up. Dawn's skiff was expertly moved
toward a small narrow inlet in the crumbling castle walls to where a small dock awaited
them -- a dock covered with greenery and moss and looking only marginally stable. The
same could be said of the overhanging walls of the long-deserted castle and fortification.
Enki leaped from the skiff onto the dock, and turned back to Dawn. As she took her own
leap of faith and joined him on the dock, he used his pole to push the skiff forward and
up against the adjacent wall.

Turning, Dawn could hear the sounds of men arguing over where to go next and
complaints of being unable to see in the fog. She was still looking back, when Alex and
Sisi came silently out of the mist in a beeline for the dock. Dawn was relieved at seeing
Alex and Sisi, but then turned back to find Enki had already moved behind one of the
rock walls. She quickly hurried to catch up with him, as Alex and Sisi moved their skiff
into the dock and debarked in similar fashion as Dawn.

The three disciples hurried to follow Enki through a low, narrow passageway and into an
open courtyard, overrun with grass and occasional vines. There he gestured toward one
end. When Dawn and her companions turned to look, they initially saw nothing. Then,
out of the corner of their eyes, the old man -- Enki, Oannes, or the Fisher King,
whichever you prefer -- suddenly vanished in a flash of intense white light. The three
looked at each other, wondering why and what had happened to their mentor.

Then their attention was arrested by noises from the end of the courtyard where Enki
had pointed before his departure. As they turned to face in the same direction, they saw
four men approaching them. Three of the new arrivals had the look of being totally out
of their element, probably lost, but still willing to obey orders without thinking -- orders
from the fourth man, their leader. And despite the apparent inequality in their ranks,
Dawn could not help but think of them as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.

When the most fearless of the four saw Alex and Sisi, and another figure (Dawn)
standing just behind them, he immediately dismissed them as relatively unimportant.
They were not the one he was seeking -- Kurt had not taken the time to look carefully at
Alex, and had not seen Dawn at all. On the other hand, it had occurred to him that the
three strangers might have information. "Where is he!?" Kurt demanded, fully expecting
an immediate and subservient reply.

The question momentarily surprised them, even as the three strangers in a very strange
land were well aware the rude newcomer was looking for Enki. They could not help but
smile at the orchestrated, four-on-three confrontation. Not three-on-three, of course.
But four-on-three -- an exercise in the fact life is not always fair. It was sink or swim
time. Only fleetingly did they wonder if they would have help from the fourth member of
their former party.

Alex, meanwhile, was less sanguine about the situation. "Who wants to know," he
asked.

Kurt was surprised by the audacity of the single male now standing in his way. But he
humored him. (Or thought he humored him.) "My name is Kurt. Who the hell are you?"

Alex and Sisi simultaneously smiled, recognizing the man and the situation. Sisi voiced
their common reaction. "Oh. So you're Kurt." Then adding what might be considered as
conveying a slight touch of arrogance, she said, "We've been so looking forward to
meeting you."

The calmness and smiling faces was not something to which Kurt was accustomed.
Looking at them with a practiced stance of intimidation, he asked, once again, "Who are
you?" For emphasis, each of his three companions each pulled out vicious looking
automatic weapons, complete with silencers and full clips.

Dawn refusing to be intimidated stepped forward, putting herself in clear view. Quietly,
and showing no fear, she replied, "I'm surprised you don't remember me, Kurt. I'm
Dawn. And these are my friends: Alex and Sisi."

Kurt's lower jaw very nearly became acquainted with the grass at his feet. But then his
shock turned to a smile -- a vicious and devious smile. "Unfortunately for you," he said,
his voice carrying every sound and timbre of evil intent. "Were I not in a hurry, I might
have spared you for purposes of interrogation. As it is, I really can't take the time. So
I'll have to kill you and leave it at that."

The lesser three of the "four horsemen" responded to the subtle command and aimed
their weapons. All three had decided Alex was the greater threat and fired
simultaneously at the same figure. But in the split second before their fingers pulled the
trigger, Dawn, Alex and Sisi phased. Suddenly they weren't there. Shifting dimensions
to and fro, and winging about the confines of the ancient courtyard, all three dodged the
bullets with Alex's name on them.

Just as suddenly, three rocks from the ancient walls went sailing in the direction of Kurt
and his three men. Kurt, reacting as if by instinct, deflected and destroyed the stone
meant for him with the wave of his arm. At the same time two of his goons managed to
duck and avoid being hit. The third was a bit slower in his reaction and caught the heavy
stone intended for him directly on his head and shoulder. He went down with dramatic
finality.

Kurt recognized immediately that he had underestimated his opponents. Or that they
had help. It was immaterial to him which. Instead, he used his own thoughts to blast
the walls where he thought he saw any of the three momentarily manifesting
themselves. In the process, a small confined war was initiated, filled with smoke, fire,
explosions and flying rock. To suggest there was a great deal of sound and fury
signifying nothing is to suggest that the first of many future violent confrontations meant
nothing -- when it fact, the opening salvos at Avalon meant a great deal.

Both of the remaining horsemen continued to rake the area with their automatic
weapons. Kurt picked up the weapon of the fallen horsemen, who was still alive but
highly unlikely to contribute anything to the battle being waged. All three continued to
move, firing in all directions at once, trying desperately to hit any of the phasing figures.
Then with the wounded horsemen trying to regain his feet, one of his own men, noting
the movement out of the corner of his eye, turned and gunned down the struggling
man. The shock at realizing what he had done was sufficient that he was momentarily
distracted and a large stone crashed into his upper body, knocking him down and
seriously injuring him.

Kurt responded to the rock attacks by mentally causing explosions, increasing the noise
level of the small confined war. The ancient castle was rapidly becoming fodder for the
conflict -- and amidst the blasts and explosions of mental displeasure -- was quickly
being destroyed. Battlements and arches exploded or collapsed, walls reeled and
portions fell leaving gaping holes. Stones and boulders were hurled through the smoke
filled air, colliding with one another and everything in between. Grass, moss and other
debris added dashes of color to the smoke and dust filled air.
In the midst of the explosion of one rock wall, Sisi took a hit between phases, and went
down. Dawn was there instantly, shielding her from further harm. Together they
phased just before an entire wall collapsed on them. Kurt became intent upon finding
them, when he suddenly found himself in a close confrontation with Alex. With a vicious
smile, he was about to totally destroy his adversary, when Dawn blasted onto the scene,
taking both Kurt and Alex by surprise. All three phased, as Sisi found herself near the
only remaining horseman left alive. The man was swinging his weapon to bear on Sisi,
when she momentarily reverted to the old style and kicked him judo-style between the
legs. The third horseman went down in incredible pain, as Sisi tried to phase again.

Still hurting from the earlier hit, Sisi's lack of focus created a moment of vulnerability,
which Kurt attempted to take quick advantage of. But just as he confronted her, ready
to separate her head and body, both Dawn and Alex descended upon him from either
side. In a massive physical confrontation, the four hit one another, until the final
remaining walls of the castle suddenly exploded in a massive conglomeration of rocks,
dust and smoke. Dawn reacted in a self-protective mode, while Alex attempted to shield
Sisi.

Abruptly, the noise of battle ceased, the three finding themselves surrounded by rubble.
Dawn knew she was basically unhurt, and as she looked around, she realized Kurt had
completely vanished. At the same time, she began to realize the first skirmish at Avalon
had ended as quickly as it had begun. Confusion, smoke and debris was everywhere,
and for a moment Dawn thought she saw Alex standing to one side, looking like an
ancient warrior at the end of a battle. In his hand, was what she thought was an ancient
long sword, but now lowered as if the struggle was over.

Then she began to see things more clearly. The last of the horsemen was staggering
away, believing himself mortally wounded. Sisi was sitting on the ground, nursing her
bruises and cuts, while Alex was on one knee inquiring as to her health. All three were
dirty, marked with blood on some part of his or her body, and all looking slightly
perplexed. But then, as they began to realize they were basically unhurt, that they had
survived, and even quite possibly had been the victors in the battle, they began to smile.

Sisi, looking for a relief from the tension -- not to mention her own aches and pains --
said, "I'm certainly glad we didn't miss this little excursion to Avalon."

Dawn, looking around at the destroyed castle, replied, "I don't know. For a major tourist
attraction, they're not keeping the place up very well."

Alex laughed. "You're sure you didn't just have a maladroit moment?"

Dawn and Sisi laughed in return, as suddenly the ancient castle itself phased and
magically returned to its original state before the battle. The three combatants,
however, remained, dirty and continued to feel the after effects. In a state of
amazement, they looked around. Alex voiced the common thought. "Was everything
that just happened here, actually... real?"

Dawn shook her head. "Is anything real?"

Sisi seemed more certain of reality. "I don't know. This leg feels pretty real." As Dawn
and Alex gathered around her, she asked, "Now what?"

Alex thought for a moment before guessing. "I suppose it depends on whatever you
want to do. Perhaps take Avalon back into the real world with us. Perhaps something
else." Looking at Dawn, he asked, "What are you thinking about?"

Dawn grinned, as her mind considered all of the things she might do next.
 

At some distance from them, in the middle of the English countryside, a surprised and
shaken Kurt found himself wandering about an open field, just below a chalk cliff where a
stylized horse had been carved in ancient times. Kurt was unclear as to what had
happened at Glastonbury, how he had left the area, and where in the world he had ended
up. He was still feeling the aches and pains from the melee, until suddenly, Kurt found
himself in what can only be described as “adrift in a wasteland, some strange invention
having shattered his dimension...”

It was a profound learning experience for Kurt. In a place without the constraints of
three dimensional space and one-dimensional time -- in other words, in a place called
Avalon -- Kurt found himself reaping the rewards and ramifications of all of his actions --
instantly, and without the usual buffer of time -- worse yet, without the very long buffer
to which he was accustomed. It was a new experience for someone accustomed to the
sound and power of his own thunder, but not to the reverberations from the rest of the
universe in response to the results of his own actions. It was an experience the former
god of numerous civilizations would long remember.



As Kurt struggled to restructure his mental view of the world, Dawn was in the middle of
her crop circle. With sweeping gestures and the twinkle of an eye, she found herself
having a glorious time as she put the finishing touches on a unique and complicated
design. Everything was falling into a wonderful pattern. Then she sensed the approach
of a small private airplane. Instinctively, she knew it carried two men: a pilot of some
repute in the discipline of crop circle investigation, and the other an artist, formerly of
Hollywood fame, and now devoting his talents to recording evidence of crop circles and
carrying the results of the research to the public at large. Dawn could feel them already
as they began their first pass to take a photograph of her masterpiece. With only a
thought, Dawn became a brilliant flash of light and disappeared, leaving the two men in
the airplane with yet another tale no one in their right mind would ever believe.



Within two months of the Avalon Incident, Nathan was having his own new and very
unique experiences. Suddenly it had become very clear to him where Anna's loyalties
were -- and were not. The realization had been more than a surprise and it had taken
some time for Nathan to reconcile himself to the evidence. But then, when he could no
longer dodge the issue, he simply became enraged, realizing he had been duped for a
very long time.

His immediate response was predictable: an attempt to scapegoat other nefarious

characters, blaming them all for Anna's success at her fooling their boss. Not
surprisingly, it never occurred to him that his being conned was in any way a flaw in his
own character. In the same manner of willful ignorance, he also never got around to
making another traumatic realization: the fact his former "associate" Gilbert Lenki had
survived. Even more remote was the idea that Gil had come back to "distract" the self-
proclaimed, albeit temporary, Lord of the Command.

Nathan's confusion could be understood in part. On the one hand, Anna was blatant and
direct in her assaults, blazing away with the latest in conflict resolution weaponry --
doing minimal damage but provided one heck of a show! Just the sort of thing to make a
Commander do a lot more than blink. At the same time, Nathan was having the anxiety
pains of a son left in charge of the store, and now like the Sorcerer’s Apprentice, finding
himself in the midst of chaos and confusion just as his parents were returning. Nathan's
first inclination was to simply panic and go screaming into the night. It's not entirely
clear what kept him from doing so.

On the one hand, Nathan had always considered himself a great warrior. But mistakes in
the past and errors in judgment of much more recent vintage were starting to imperil his
confidence and his arrogance. Added to the misery were the signs of a carefully
designed structure, a long nurtured and established paradigm, beginning to come apart
at the seams.

Meanwhile Anna raised Cain (it was an old joke between them), while Gil, with the aid of
his newly acquired partner, Sisi, had -- unbeknownst to Nathan -- begun the subtle,
insidious approach.

Gil's first achievement was the insertion of the most potent of computer viruses into
virtually every software program on the planet. Suddenly, the governmental and
international, corporate mainstay computers -- those that had become the nemesis of
the human race (particularly those that had lately been used to monitor, control and
deny the citizens of the advanced societies all manner of unalienable freedoms) -- these
“control” computers were now coming up with huge blank spots in their memory.

This was delightful enough, but there were also the sudden appearance of erroneous
instructions of every type and byte. The stock market's Dow Jones Industrial Average,
for example, gained in one day, nineteen hundred points in what was a totally fictitious
event. Bankers who had written massive “call options” on stocks were jumping from
windows at every level. The Internal Revenue Service, meanwhile, began sending
refunds in the amounts of seventy-seven thousand dollars and fourteen cents per person,
and managed to mail out six hundred and sixty some odd thousand before anyone
noticed and was finally able to switch the computer's O N O F F switch to the O F F
position. There were also the obviously erroneous reports that the Cincinnati Bengals
had won the Super Bowl. [*]

For Sisi’s part, her favorite accomplishment was in simultaneously turning off all power,
communications, and lights at the Florida State Legislature during an intensive, late-into-
the-night debate on whether or not to outlaw welfare for everyone under 72 years of
age. The vote to pass the legislation was indefinitely postponed, as some of the more
religious of the group suspected they had just been exposed to a sign from God. They
were close.

The only overt evidence of serious retaliation by The Patrons, governments, and other
tyrants was an abrupt increase in what were apparently naturally occurring earthquakes,
volcanic eruptions, typhoons, and radically bad weather. Not only was everyone talking
about the weather, but someone had finally learned how to do something about it. The
new technological advances provided a whole new way to wage war. And someone was
waging it like a kid with a new toy. Often just to see the effects and then marvel that
they had been the cause.

Much of the major assaults against humanity were done by a relative few, who at the
same time were fighting bitterly among themselves. Still other factions, however, were
standing back and observing. Not for a lack of intent to interfere, but more from
amazement at how badly things had gotten out of hand. A few, such as Anna, Gil and
Sisi were making waves of a more subtle nature, gently encouraging the house of cards
to fall of its own weight. Which it had begun to do with a vengeance! The old paradigm
was, at long last, in the final throes of crashing and burning. Yea.

There was, of course, no "prime directive" for the bad guys, no prohibition against
interference. There was no one to enforce it, or at least, no group or species who had
stepped forward with dramatic evidence of their protection and/or ability to interfere.
There were still the enigmatic and dramatic astronomical events which could scarcely be
considered coincidence, but nothing clear cut enough to ensure that the end results of
the battle were in any way guaranteed. At the same time, there was a smattering of
evidence that the human race was reaching the stage of being able to defend itself. The
goals of the Humanki were being realized in a host of different locations.



Three months after the opening salvos at Avalon, Dawn was well on her way to becoming
a full-fledged member of the Humanki. It's a state difficult to describe to someone
unfamiliar with the territory of the higher dimensions and the implications of being truly
one with the universe. But suffice it to say, she was becoming one of the select few to
be allowed to roam about the earth, exercising the ultimate demonstration of Free Will.
For a time she shuttled between Glastonbury and Kali Lumenes -- still learning her trade
-- and having made one memorable trip to Lake Baikal in Central Asia. The latter was an
experience in itself, and one she relished.

Then, six and a half months -- or more precisely, seven moons -- after first arriving at
Kali Lumenes, Dawn returned for the first time to the United States. During her absence,
she had truly become The Fool, the universe providing for all her needs. She was now at
the beginning, initiating a totally new journey. She had no agendas, no plans, but only a
profound sense of responsibility -- or, in other words, an ability to respond.
However and whenever appropriate. She was Humanki.

On a particular point in the four-dimensional space-time continuum, some 40 weeks from

the time of her and Gil's abrupt crash in the Idaho wilderness, Dawn was flying over the
Snake River with Hell's Canyon again visible below. Ahead lay the lush green forests and
rocky crags of the Salmon River Mountains, while off to the right, the tumultuous Snake
River flowing north, carving Hell's Canyon ever deeper. Slightly to the left of her flight
path lay the city of Lewiston, covered with lightly scattered, low-lying clouds, and behind,
the muted glare of the late afternoon sun, partially shielded by the cumulus streaking
across the sky. But there were no engines to fail, and little likelihood of pilot error.

But this time, Dawn was responding, quietly and without fanfare, to a call for help from
the environs of Lake Mach. She was smiling at the time, relishing the moment, as well
as each of the moments that had both proceeded and followed the current one. For just
a split second, she recalled the phrase: "The light which returns to itself is represented
by the Golden Flower." [2] It was a nice thought.

The Omega and The Alpha

__________________________________

[1] A Book of Coincidence, John Martineau, Wooden Books, England, 1995.

[2] The Secret of the Golden Flower, A Chinese Book of Life, Translated by Richard
Wilhem, A Harvest / HBJ Book.

[*] Originally, this had been written as the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. But then the Bucs
managed to fool everyone and win the Super Bowl in January of 2003.

http://halexandria.org/dward526.htm