The Adam Enigma (24 page)

April 2, 2016
Rio Chama, New Mexico

R
amsey awoke to the smell of new leather inches from his nose. His whole body ached. His brain was fuzzy. He shook his head to clear it and found that was the wrong thing to do.
What happened to me?
All he remembered was a shock tore through his chest and he felt as though he'd been picked up and slammed to the ground.

Bits and pieces of what happened came back to him then.
I was tasered. That's what happened
. His thinking began to clear as his brain's functions seemed to come back on line. The man holding the stun gun was familiar. He'd see the fierce pale-blue eyes when they met two days ago.
It was the South African . . . Haas!

Slowly Ramsey opened one eye. He stared at the back of black leather seats. Sunlight glinted off a windshield. He heard the dull buzz of tires on concrete reverberating through the seat. Judging by the size of the back seat he figured he was in an SUV. A broad stocky man drove. It wasn't Haas. Then he heard a voice in a language he didn't quite recognize come from the passenger seat.

The big man nodded silently. The car sped up.

He stretched his muscles. Metal cut into his wrists and he realized he was handcuffed. He stifled a moan, not wanting to alert his kidnappers he was awake. He needed time to think. In a rush all the bewildering events at the shrine came back to him. For some unknown reason he settled on the wispy Puck dancing towards Haas and the large man with the gun. He thought she didn't do such a great
job taking care of the “bad boys.” Ramsey laughed at the absurdity of it all. Of course she wasn't real.

Then he came back to his current predicament.
What does Haas want with me?

As if hearing his thoughts, the passenger turned toward him. The narrow ascetic face of Pieter Haas smiled at him apologetically. “Sorry about the stun gun. You proved more resourceful than I expected,” he said gently.

“Apparently not resourceful enough,” said Ramsey ruefully, staring at the taser in Haas's right hand.

The South African's smile widened. “Indeed.” Then the man's face grew pensive. “We need to talk.”

“You could have just asked.”

“I didn't want to risk you saying no and not listening to what I'm about to tell you.”

M
YRIAM'S FIRST THOUGHT
was to give chase in her car, but the SUV topped the rise on the narrow dirt road and sped out of sight before she could get her car keys from her purse.

Her next thought was to call 911. Pulling out her phone, her fingers hovered over its contact directory.
What am I going to say to the operator? That a scantily clad Aphrodite-looking woman warned me my friend is being kidnapped?
The absurdity of the situation fell upon her and she would have laughed except for the image of Jonathan's unconscious crumpled body being thrown into the back of the car.

But the situation
was
absurd. A strange woman warned her. Her leg had stopped hurting enabling her to run to the parking lot in time to see two men abduct her former post-graduate student. Confusion threatened to overwhelm her, as it had so often in the past few months as the Parkinson's steadily worsened. But in the next instant, her mind cleared. Her administrator's way of thinking kicked in. First, she needed clarity to deal with this kind of situation. She glanced around the now nearly empty parking lot. Parked beside Hiram's truck was the shrine's van, belonging to Father Michael.
He'll know
.

She strode purposefully towards the Visitor Center when the realization struck her. Her balance was perfect. She was walking pain free! Not in the way that Parkinson's sometimes disappears for a few moments at a time, but in the way of being totally healed. She knew without a doubt the disease would never return.

Her lips turned up in a smile.
After all this time
,
the miracle I have always been waiting for
. A chill rushed up her spine, bubbling into an ecstatic shout of joy. She heard herself shouting, “Thank you, shrine. . . . Thank you Adam!”

A couple emerging from the Center stared at her at first and then they too smiled, getting caught up in her enthusiasm, the older man proclaiming “Hallelujah!” as they passed. She was grinning widely now, not bothered at all by the idea that moments before she had uttered something that only a few hours ago she would never have imagined herself ever saying.

Just as she pulled on the door to the Visitor Center, a familiar voice seemed to come out of nowhere. “Did I just hear you say, ‘thank you Adam?'”

Father Michael emerged from shadows near the entrance, his scarred cheeks rosy with mirth behind his gray beard.

“I did,” Myriam said breathlessly. “But I need to speak with you. Something terrible has happened.”

“You look like something wonderful just happened—not terrible.”

“You're right. Something wonderful happened. I believe my Parkinson's was just cured by the shrine. But at the same time something terrible has happened. My friend, the person we hired to find Adam, Jonathan Ramsey, was just kidnapped right in front of my eyes by the men who want to kidnap Adam.”

Father Michael gave Myriam a patronizing look. “Let's discuss the important things first. Tell me about your experience. Some of the seniors in the last group from Phoenix reported miraculous cures and insights. That hasn't happened in months.”

Myriam peered at Father Michael as though seeing him for the first time. In that moment a terrifying thought shot through her mind.

Instinctively she clenched her fists and took a step forward. “You know.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You know they took Jonathan. You already knew Haas was here, didn't you?”

“There's nothing to worry about. I'll take care of it.”

“How?”

“You just experienced a miracle, so trust that. I do.” Father Michael touched her arm and she shrugged him off.

He smiled at her. “Trust the miracle you've just had.” He inclined his head and walked into the Visitor Center.

Myriam knew she would have to look elsewhere for help.

April 2, 2016
Rio Chama, New Mexico

P
ieter Haas drummed the fingernails of his left hand on the dash of the SUV. His right hand cradled his phone against his ear. The early afternoon sun blazed overhead and the car's air conditioning unit was at maximum. Still, he could feel the sweat from his armpits trickle down his ribs. He was anxious over his latest decision. He had gone to great lengths to try and salvage what he could of the debacle of finding Adam. Deciding to act boldly, he had kidnapped Jonathan Ramsey.

Now he listened carefully as Greta van Horn laid out the events that had happened with the shrine over the past forty-eight hours. “Lindstrom just reported to me that a weak version of the anomalous field-coherence associated with Adam had occurred in the area of the shrine just two hours ago.” Greta paused in her report.

“Is it still there? “Haas asked excitedly.

“It's gone now.”

Haas breathed in sharply. He glanced at Ramsey in the back seat. The man was eying him, a neutral expression on his face.

“Pieter, is everything okay?” he heard Greta say.

“Yes, I believe it will be. We'll see you shortly.”

“There's one more thing. News reporters are at the hotel. They're asking lots of questions about DeVere and its reasons for being in New Mexico. Is there anything you want me to say?”

Haas thought a moment. The real reason wouldn't do, of course, but DeVere was a diamond company and that provided the perfect cover. “Say nothing overtly but hint at the possibility of a huge diamond discovery.”

He ended the call and took a moment to settle his thoughts. He decided his boldness had been the correct move after all. He now figured his last chance to find Adam lay with Jonathan Ramsey and what he had learned of the shrine's groundskeeper in his investigation. Intuition told Haas that Ramsey had discovered some critical piece of the puzzle about Adam's healing power. But how to get the human geographer to reveal what he had learned was another matter. He needed Ramsey on his side, but how could he get him to willingly to join the South Africans and bring Pete Miami in as well?

Taking a thoughtful breath, he turned his attention to Ramsey. The handcuffs had been removed, and when their eyes met, Ramsey smiled. The earlier terrified man seemed transformed to Haas. He was calm, alert almost combative in his demeanor.
It is not going to be easy to win him over
, Haas told himself.

To his many friends Haas was often viewed as a chameleon, able to change his personality at the drop of a hat. It was a trait he'd noticed as a child. He had a special gift for truly understanding what others were saying, not only their words but also their gestures. It was like he could tell what a person wanted before even they knew. This capacity he had used to his advantage in all his business undertakings. Now he would have to put this unique talent to use in a last ditch effort to find the Milagro Shrine's missing caretaker.

Haas began, “I'm very sorry we had to do it this way. Given what you undoubtedly know about me, I felt certain that if I simply asked you to come with me—well, you know your most likely answer.”

Acknowledging the truth of Haas' statement, Ramsey replied, “I'm here now. Start by telling me where we're going.”

“Back to Taos. Miami's house, the airport, or wherever you want. I'm asking you to hear me out first.”

Ramsey smiled. “It's not as if I have a choice.”

Haas turned to Goren. “Stop the car.” He waited until the mercenary pulled off on the narrow highway, hazard lights flashing.
“I'll let you out right now. We're only a couple of miles from Taos. You can make it there easily.” He paused. “But I hope you'll decide to listen to what I have to say.” He waited. After several seconds, Ramsey nodded. Goren turned the warning flashers off and put the car in gear.

“Let me start by apologizing again,” said Haas. “I'm largely responsible for bringing you to the shrine in the first place.”

“I thought it was Beecher. Next you'll tell me you're doing all this for my benefit.” Ramsey's voice was flat.

“Would that be so hard to believe?” Haas smiled at the surprise splashing across Ramsey's face. “I take it you've learned something about a group known as the New Gnostics?” he continued smoothly. He was pleased to see that Ramsey was interested.

“It's a social media group of people who've been impacted by the healing power of the shrine.”

Haas nodded. “It's much greater than that. It's hundreds of communities around the globe, made up, as you mentioned, of people affected by the shrine, living in harmony with the world around them, but more importantly with themselves.” He paused again. “I'm one of them.”

He watched Ramsey take this in, his mind working, connecting pieces of what must have been a confusing puzzle surrounding the events of the past two weeks, and now fitting them into a larger picture of understanding.

Ramsey's brow furrowed. He asked, “You're not the only one involved in what I have been experiencing . . . all the coincidences . . . am I correct?”

“Malcolm Grossinger, Father Michael, Myriam. You already know about Dr. Orensen.” Haas waited, watching Ramsey reflect on this strange turn of events.

Ramsey took a deep breath. “So, my involvement was all one big ruse. But why?”

Ignoring the question, Haas continued, “I want to give you some background so you can put this in context. Two years ago after I was healed at the shrine, I gave a large sum of money to the Friends of the Shrine. I met Myriam and she introduced me to Father Michael. He told me about the New Gnostics and we stayed in touch.”

It took all of Ramsey's self-control not to register any surprise. His senses, honed through thousands of human geography interviews, told him Haas was mixing truth with lies. He could have gotten out of the car and walked away, but the man's attempt at candor made Ramsey stay. Somewhere in the tale he was certain lay the means to sort through the fiction if he only stayed patient enough and listened carefully and asked the right questions.

Falling back on his skills as a human geographer and interviewer, he asked, “So you were healed at the shrine two years ago?”

Haas nodded. “Then one day I got an urgent call from Father Michael. He told me that Adam was in danger. We were making plans to protect him when Adam disappeared.”

Haas was surprised and pleased at Ramsey's calm acceptance of this story. Oddly, he couldn't tell if Ramsey believed what he was being told or was just going along so they would let him go.

Silence stretched the moment.

Finally Ramsey spoke. “So you weren't responsible for his disappearance?”

“No. At first we thought that a radical religious group, the Brothers of the Lord led by the Reverend Billy Paul, might have killed him. We weren't sure. Malcolm Grossinger suggested I befriend this Reverend Paul, and I did. With some big money and even bigger boldfaced lying I became one of his most trusted confidants.”

“You learned they weren't responsible for his disappearance?”

“That's right. Eventually it came to me in a rather bizarre way that I should use Miami's highly developed GIS system for finding kimberlite to look for Adam. I remembered how a paranormal investigatory film crew had discovered some strange biogenic fields around Adam and the shrine.” Haas noticed that Ramsey appeared to take particular interest in how the idea came to him. For a second it looked like Ramsey was going ask a question and then dismissed the idea.

Haas continued. “Unfortunately, Pete and I had a strange relationship—even combative at times—especially when I visited him to check on his progress in searching for the kimberlite. It was during one of those trips that, at my sister's urging, I went down to the
shrine. I was dying. A month later when I saw my doctor I was nearly cancer-free.”

“When was that?” Ramsey asked, now certain that the South African was painting a picture of himself that would seduce Ramsey.
He wants me to believe in him . . . to support him
.
But why? I need to see where he's going.

Hass continued. “Two years ago. Anyhow, the next time I saw Pete he was in a good mood. Talkative. Perhaps he picked up on my improved condition. He talked about you, your search for the mystery behind healing places. He told me that you were his only true friend and how you'd grown apart since your experience in Peru. And how that separation had been painful for him.” Haas caught a fleeting sense of regret cross Ramsey's features.

“The next time I visited I was hoping for more of the same. Instead, for some reason he was more hostile than ever.”

“He can be like that,” Ramsey said to keep Haas talking. “So you couldn't go to him directly?”

“I remember what he said about you. Like I said, the idea came to me in a strange way.”

“Tell me about that,” Ramsey asked.

Haas was surprised by Ramsey's tone and wondered if he should tell Ramsey about the Samburu shaman who had healed his sister in the Danakil Desert. Firmly, he said, “Another time.”

Haas waited to see if Ramsey would push the matter further, but he didn't.

“The connection between you, Myriam, Beecher, and the Brothers of the Lord made it all so perfect. Reverend Billy Paul was so obsessed with finding Adam he easily went along with my plan. Through your help, along with Dr. Miami, we were able to locate Adam as I suspect you already know. We didn't know who had him so I had to be prepared for any contingency. Then the damn Mexicans showed up and ruined everything.”

Haas stopped. He took sip of water from a plastic container, offered it to Ramsey.

Ramsey shook his head. “So, I was just a pawn,” he said, his anger getting the best of him.

“In an odd way just the opposite.”

Ramsey's head snapped up. “What do you mean?”

“There's something bigger going on here and I believe you're the only person who can help us find Adam.”

Goren turned into the drive for the El Monte Segrado Hotel. He parked in front and turned off the engine. A crowd of people, media, and Sheriff's deputies had gathered outside the lobby entrance.

Haas looked into the rearview mirror, saw Ramsey alert, looking out the window at the crowd. “You ready to come in?” he asked.