Irrefutable Proof: Mars Origin "I" Series Book II (10 page)

Coming
back from Cincinnati, I got a call on my cell that I needed to pick up
Professor Abelson at University Hospitals the next day. She had broken her arm.
Fell in some spilt milk, the nurse told me, and they were keeping her
overnight.

Crazy
lady.

Why
would she give me as her contact person?

Where
was her husband, Samuel?

The
next morning, I dreaded going over to UH to pick up Professor Abelson. I don’t
know why, but her staring at me all the time, and that awful rose-scented crap
she wore just made me less tolerant of her. I always feigned niceness when I
saw her. Still she must need me. The Bible said you should help others, you
never know when you might be “entertaining angels unaware.” Could Professor
Abelson be an angel?

Nah.

I
decided to take my sister Claire with me.

“Wait
until you smell that icky cologne she wears,” I said to Claire when she got in
the car. “You’ll probably faint.”

“I’m
sure it couldn’t be that bad, Justin.”

I
just glanced over at her.

But
once we got there, Claire seemed to like Professor Abelson right away, and Professor
Abelson seemed to like Claire. Soon as we got back to where they had her, the
two of them clicked. Professor Abelson let Claire push her out of the emergency
room’s observation unit after telling the nurse on duty that she couldn’t, even
when the nurse insisted it was her job. Professor Abelson just grinned at
Claire, and told her what a beautiful girl she was, and “Oh, how smart you are.
A medical doctor?
And that’s so wise, Claire,” she said. “To keep up
with your medical license while you do research work. You never know when
someone may need your help.” She squeezed Claire’s arm and said, “Aren’t you
just the cat’s meow?”

The
cat’s meow?
I mouthed to
Claire, and scrunched up my nose. What the heck?  I just stood by. Next time, I
thought, I’ll just send Claire.

But
that all ended when we got in the car.

She
turned to me and pounced on me like a hound dog from hell. She grilled me about
my book. Sitting next to me in the passenger seat, she threw out questions,
seemingly accusing me of I don’t know what. 

Who
was the publisher? What was the name of the first book? Why didn’t Case’s
library have a copy of it? Am I ashamed of it? And what kind of manuscripts
could I have found in Jerusalem that I needed to write a secret book about?

“It’s
not really a secret, Professor Abelson.” I tried to answer her questions.

“Well,
then what is it about?”

“Uhm,
just about my trip to the Fifty Year Jubilee for the finding of the Dead Sea
Scrolls. You know the seminar they had.”

“No.
I don’t know.” She looked at me out the corner of her eye. “I thought you said
it was about some manuscripts you found?”

“It
is.” I felt like my mother was chewing me out for coming home past my curfew.

“You
found manuscripts at a seminar? What kind of archaeologist are you?”

I
could hear Claire in the back seat try, unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh.

“I
didn’t find them
at
the seminar.”

“Well,
if it was something to do with the Dead Sea Scrolls, I would think that would
be a pretty important book. At times, Justin, you can be quite daft.”

Me,
daft?
I thought.
She’s
the one with the invisible husband.

“Why
don’t I know about your book?” Professor Abelson seemed to want to continue her
tirade.

“I
don’t know. I just didn’t do much marketing on it.”

“Sounds
like you’re ashamed of it to me.” She was such a tiny little woman, with this
big heavy cast on, someone to have pity on and want to help. But she had this
look on her face that said she could kill a three hundred pound man and then
eat him up. She was scaring me.

I
glanced over my shoulder at Claire, and raised my eyebrows. What could I say?

I
told her I wasn’t ashamed of my book. That I was going to Jerusalem to do more
research on it. Why did I say that? Oh, boy, I thought she was going to hit me
with that cast she got so mad. And it brought on another slew of questions.

What
was I looking for? When was I going? Why am I going back now? Did I find
something new out?

When
I told her I wasn’t sure when I was leaving, her whole demeanor changed. In a
flash she went from the wicked stepmother to Snow White. She got sickeningly
sweet and said to please let her know exactly when because Samuel was going to
be away and she might need help.

“But
of course if he’s home, he can take care of me,” she said. “But you won’t know
if you don’t call me, now will you?” She looked over and smiled at me. I really
got scared then.

She
is just a little old lady
,
I thought. She can’t really do any harm to me, and I just can’t be mean to her.
So I promised I would call her and let her know when I was leaving and how she
could reach me.

“You
know I was born and raised in Israel,” she said to me.

“I
know,” I said.

“And
I knew the Editor-in-Chief of the original translation committee for the Dead
Sea Scrolls.”

My
eyes got big. I looked back at Claire. I did all I could not to scream.

“Really?”
I said.

“Yes.
Bet you didn’t know I knew such important people, did you?”

I
wasn’t going there with her. She was not going to get me talking about that
lunatic, Dr. Samuel Yeoman. He had practically destroyed the AHM manuscripts. I
was so glad we were pulling up in her driveway.

Me
and Claire went in to make sure she was comfortable, and to see if she needed
me to help her get something to eat, or into bed. But after we got inside, she
started ignoring me, again, wrinkling her nose in disgust every time she looked
my way. And, she only wanted Claire to help her.

Fine.
With. Me.

“What
is this Professor Abelson?” I asked. She and Claire were coming out of the
kitchen with a tray of food she had Claire make.

The
living room and dining room were filled with books and papers scattered
everywhere. And tons of notes with what appeared to be attempts at a translation.
There were plastic covered sheets of writings. Something I’d never seen before,
looked like gibberish, probably some made up language written on the pages.

“Claire,”
Professor Abelson pretending, I guess, that I was incapable of understanding
her. “Your sister doesn’t even know about the Voynich Manuscript. Tsk, tsk,
tsk.”

I
looked over at Claire and hunched my shoulders. I give up.

“Claire,”
I said, “Could you ask Professor Abelson what language this is written in?” I
figured why not just go through Claire to find out what I needed to know.

“The
language hasn’t ever been deciphered,” she said.

Okay,
I think she was talking to me. This time speaking directly to me, answering my
question. So, I tried another one.

“Are
you working on a translation?”

“Claire,”
she said, tucking her arm into the bend of Claire’s elbow, and leading her
toward the back of the house. “Did you know that I’m a linguist and code breaker?
I can figure out almost anything.”

Well,
I guess that answered my question.

Chapter Sixteen

Alexander
City, Alabama

Sitting on his back porch, Robert Kevron
lifted the soft brown and white fur at the
belly of the rabbit he’d killed that morning and made a horizontal incision. He
stated to pull the skin away, careful not to take a piece of the stomach. His
hand stopped in mid-air when he heard a car pulling up his driveway.

A
late model, black
Chevy Tahoe stopped right behind his rusted-out brown pick-up. He heard
the engine ticking after the ignition had been turned off. Without taking
his eye off the SUV, or his left hand off the rabbit, he laid down his
grandfather’s old farm knife, and grabbed his rifle that was leaning on
the steps next to him. Picking it up by the barrel, he tossed it up and caught
it, wrapping his hand around the trigger guard. Lowering the gun and squinting
one eye, he looked through the sight, focusing on the area where a head might
pop up out of the truck. He wasn’t taking any chances.

Nearly thirty years as a counterintelligence officer, Kevron
had a head full of top secret information that only a handful of people knew.
And still, nearly a decade after retirement, he was resigned to the fact
that one day somebody might show up and try to stop him from ever being able to
share that information. Not that he planned to. An unexpected black SUV
visiting him more than likely meant a government man and possibly trouble.

Kevron recognized Major Jack Hughes when he walked to the
front of the vehicle. Jack looked at Kevron sitting on the step.

“Mr. Kevron,” Jack said, and nodded.

“Major.” Kevron nodded back.

“Good to see you,” Jack said.

Kevron noticed the Major wasn’t dressed in uniform. Maybe this
wasn’t official business.

Nonetheless, he didn’t like one bit him just dropping by. He
flipped the rifle upright and let it slide through his hand. Catching the barrel,
and easing it to the ground, he said, “Pull up in my driveway again without
telling me you’re coming,” he leaned the rifle up against the edge of the
steps, “and you won’t ever be seeing anything or anybody else, good or bad.”

“You mind if I come over and speak with you,” Jack asked.

Kevron gestured with his head for him to come on over and went
back to skinning his rabbit.

“What are you doing?” Jack asked, shutting the car door and
heading over toward Kevron.

 “Getting ready for supper. Wanna stay and have some? Thinking
about cookin’ up a stew.”

Without commenting on a supper of rabbit stew, or bothering to
find a step to sit on amid a hatchet, the rabbit’s head, feet and blood, Jack
stood in front of Kevron. “You remember, back a few years before you retired,
speaking to a Dr. Phillips?” Jack asked.

“No. I don’t.” Really he wasn’t in the mood for this Top
Secret crap. Not that he ever did care. He had just done his job.

“Dr. Phillips. From NASA?” Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Nope. Can’t say I recall.” He knew that Jack knew better. He
had always had a keen and cunning mind. Keeping up with everything had been the
only way to keep up on his job. But he wasn’t volunteering any
information. He wasn’t going to be the one to open up the door to any trouble.

“Mind if I refresh your memory?” Jack asked.

“Is that what you came here for?”

“Yep.” Jack nodded. He spread his legs and put his hands
behind his back as if ordered to stand at ease.

“Then tell me,” Kevron said as he pulled fur off the rabbit’s
flesh. “Wouldn’t want you to have wasted a trip.”

“Dr. Phillips, a scientist over at NASA, told us that they had
found nuclear activity on Mars.” Pausing, he looked at Kevron.

Kevron’s didn’t let his face show that he remembered, or was
even interested.

“He told us that the soil was radioactive,” Jack brought his
hands in front of him. “And that couldn’t have happened naturally. You
remember that?” Jack asked.

“Can’t say that I do.” He popped the rabbit’s legs through the
skin.

“I’ve got wind of this archaeologist,” Jack said, “who, back
in 1997, may have found some manuscripts that give a reason for the radioactive
material up there.”

“Is the Pentagon on this?” Kevron looked up at Jack for the
first time.

“I hadn’t mentioned it to them yet. No. Thought I’d run it
past you first. I remember you saying that you didn’t believe any of it and
it’s what people want. Alien craze and all. Was wondering if I could get your
opinion on the information this lady – the archaeologist – has. Her name’s
Justin Dickerson. Think she lives in up in Ohio. We didn’t know about her book
when we made an assessment on the information that Dr. Phillips gave us. Do you
think you would have done anything differently if you had? Is there anything
that we should look into now that we have the information?”

“You said she found out about it in 1997?”

“Yeah. She found some manuscripts with the Dead Sea Scrolls.
These manuscripts, according to her books, no longer exist. They were
destroyed, or are missing, or something. But she wrote about them and published
her findings. But she may have access to a notebook that’s contains an
untranslated copy.”

“Never heard of it.”

“I’ve got some information -” Jack started to hand Kevron a
manila folder.

Kevron pushed the folder back toward Jack, dismissing it.
“What I’m saying is that I’ve never heard of it. Understand? Never heard of it
and it seems you’re just getting wind of it now. It hasn’t caused a problem up
til now, so I’m thinking we’re good on people fretting about men from Mars
and their nuclear power.”

“She has more information that she’s going to be putting out
soon. More facts -”

“Facts?” Kevron cocked his head and stared up at Jack. “She’s
got facts?”

“Other than the manuscripts . . .” he began to talk slower as
he realized what he was saying. “Yeah, manuscripts that are no longer around.
No. Nothing else. Not that I know of.”

Jack waited for a response from Kevron. He didn’t get one. He
studied Kevron and after an uncomfortable pause asked, “You think I should do
something about it?”

“You haven’t done anything yet?” Kevron asked. “You know,
other than come and see me.”

“Wasn’t sure if I should,” Jack answered. “You know, the
position you held wasn’t filled after you left. It got kind of absorbed into
other positions. I didn’t want to bring this to anyone’s attention unless it
had some merit to it because it’s a small part of their job. Now I’m thinking
that it’s not that important. Thirteen years – no one knows anything. I’m
thinking I’ll just let it go.”

“Hmm,” Kevron pushed out the seemingly uninterested response,
took in a breath through his nostrils and nodded his head.

“What do you think about it?” Jack asked.

“I think that it’s not my job anymore.” Kevron hunched his
shoulder, and straightened out his leg as if he was going to push off and stand
up. He remained sitting.

 “Want me to leave you the information? Maybe look it over and
get back to me?”

“No thank you. Don’t have much time for reading these days.”

“Skinning rabbits keeping you busy?”

“More than you know.”