The Code - Genesis - Book I (15 page)

Part IV

Trust

Chapter Twenty-six

September 2, 2006
 

On a bustling afternoon on the crowded streets of D.C., Natan carries a bag and documents as she maneuvers through the people on her way home.  A tough, worn man approaches, his arm sporting a tattoo of red angels
’
wings.  His completely shaved head accentuates his dead, hollow eyes, reinforcing the darkness within him.  As he nears Natan, she winces and touches her forehead with her free hand. 
Ah…my head.

The tattoo man bumps into Natan, surprising her.  She drops a page of her documents.    

“Uh…ex…excuse me,” she mumbles in pain.  Attempting to shift out of the man’s way, Natan’s bag strap becomes entangled with him.

The tattoo man replies, “Looks like we’re caught…”

Natan attempts to free herself, maneuvering her gun and papers away from the man.  She sees the tattoo and then a flash as she is transported elsewhere.

             
In the cloak of night Natan sees a museum-esque building, its doors open, calling to her.  She watches from a distance as the out-of-breath tattoo man rushes into the building.  She enters with him, aware that her body is not with her.  On his left he passes an open mini-mosque area with Islamic décor, including several Muslims kneeling and praying.  On his right he passes an open mini-synagogue area with Jewish décor, including several Jews sitting and praying.  He is confused by the setting.  In the center, off in the distance, there is an open mini-Catholic church with Christian décor.  Each section remains separate but with a fluidity linking them all.

Tattoo man maneuvers his way to a confession booth in the center of the Catholic

scene.  He opens the curtain and sits down.  The curtain remains open.  Through the metal divider tattoo man begins his confession, “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.  It’s been 6 years since my last confession.”

The priest answers through the metal divider, “My son, state your Act of Contrition and then confess your sins.”

“Oh my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended thee…I detest my sins…”  Tattoo man begins to cry. “I detest my sins…forgive me Father for I have…”  He rubs his eyes with one hand. “I…I killed a woman, Father.  A woman of God.”  The priest does not answer him.  “Did you hear me, Father?  Please don’t make me say it again.”

“Murder is a mortal sin, my son,” the priest replies.

The tattoo man almost pleads. “I had to, Father.  My God demanded it of me.  I…I needed to tell someone…someone who can help me own this…secret.”

The priest asks in confusion, “You feel that God demanded this of you?”

“Am I forgiven, Father?” tattoo man asks in desperation.

The priest continues, “My son…”

Tattoo man angrily interrupts him, “I need to be forgiven!” He jumps up from the confession booth and slams his hands against the metal divider, hitting it over and over again.  His hands are cut and begin to bleed.

Tattoo man pleads, “Please Father…forgive me!”  He sobs as he maneuvers out of the booth, falling to his knees, where his bloody hands blend with the plush red carpeting.  In agony, tattoo man peers out toward the other people of various faiths, sobbing uncontrollably.

The vision shifts and Natan finds herself standing in a dimly lit parking lot of a vacant warehouse.  She looks around, appearing confused and unsure.  In the distance a man’s voice calls to her, “Who can you trust, Agent Natan?” 

Natan tries to pull her gun and finds an empty holster.  Visibly shaken, she replies, “Who’s there?”

The man’s voice is closer, “If you have no God…then, who can you trust, Agent Natan?”

             
Natan backtracks, hastily looking for an escape. “Who are you?”

The man’s voice surrounds her. “The answer is…no one.”

A shot rings out from the darkness.  Natan’s body falls to the ground, her head hitting the ground in slow motion.  Blood gently streams from the back of her neck onto the cement near her.

Natan’s vision shifts back to the priest as he steps out of the confession booth and places his hand on the crying tattoo man’s head.  With h
is head bowed, the priest absolves
him, “You
are
a man of God and follow his word.”

A single tear falls from the priest’s eye.  Natan sees Mayan symbols reflected in it.  The priest touches his tear as it falls and, using his fingers, blesses the tattoo man in an upside-down and backward shape of a cross. “In the name of the Holy Spirit…the Son…and the Father.  You are forgiven, my son.”

On the busy street, an out-of-breath Natan jerks back from a chaotic roller coaster of sorts, pulling away from the tattoo man and freeing herself from their entanglement.  The tattoo man inquires, “Ms.  Are you okay?”

Natan is shocked and frazzled.  The only sound she can hear is her racing heartbeat.  She rubs her forehead with one hand.  Collecting herself, she replies, “I’m fine.  Again, I apologize.”  Natan starts to walk away as the tattoo man rushes after her.

Tattoo man picks up the dropped page. “You dropped this.”

Natan turns around as the he hands her the paper.  Natan reaches out for it.

Natan sees Mayan symbols reflected in his eyes from the page.  She jerks back.  She looks back at the document.  No sign of the symbols…the page appears normal.

Tattoo man asks, “Are you sure you’re okay, ma’am?” He extends the page again

and hands it to Natan, who reaches out for it.  Natan and tattoo man stare into one another’s eyes.  Natan slowly takes the page.  She walks away with page in hand, glancing down at its normalcy, and then turns around once more to look at the tattoo man.  Natan’s face reflects her recognition of subtle familiarity.

Tattoo man stands looking after Natan.  She walks on, inching away from the darkness.  He watches her until she vanishes in the distance and pulls a photo from his inside pocket.  He gently touches a recent photo of Natan, caressing it between his thumb and his forefinger.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Inside Natan’s house, she sleeps on her couch, with several articles in opposition to the Bible Code strewn around her.  One specific article titled “The Bible Code Is a Fallacy
”
rests on her abdomen.  The phone rings, startling Natan awake. 
Must you wake me every damn time I’m sleeping, Professor? 
The phone rings again as Natan pulls herself up from the couch and makes her way to quiet the harassment.
  All right already. 
Natan picks up the phone.
 
“Hello.”

A man’s voice answers, “Agent Natan?”

Unsure of whom she is speaking with Natan responds, “Yeah…”

“Hello, Agent.  This is Dr. Berk from
Virginia
.  I’m returning your phone call.”  Natan doesn’t reply.  Dr. Berk continues, “Agent Natan?”

             
Natan gets her bearings, “Yes.  Sorry, I thought you were someone else.  Thank you for getting back to me so quickly.”

“You said that the N.S.A. had urgent questions about my work on the Bib…”

Natan cuts his sentence short, “Yes…that’s right.”

“I’m more than happy to help the N.S.A. with anything they need in this matter.  What information are you looking for?” he replies.

“I’d rather discuss this in person, Dr. Berk.  I’ll be in
Virginia
tomorrow and was wondering if we could arrange a meeting.”

“I have lectures in the morning until ten.  What time were you thinking?”

“Mid-morning…perhaps eleven?” she suggests.

“That should work for me.  I’ll arrange it and adjust the remainder of my schedule if necessary,” he replies.

“Great.  I’ll come to you at your office.”

“Okay.  My office is on the side south of town…”

Natan cuts Dr. Berk off again, “It’s all right.  I’ll find you.”

“Well, okay.  I’ll see you then.”

“See you then.”  Natan starts to hang up the phone and hears a quiet clicking.

Outside Natan’s house, van man sits in a van labeled
“
Mark’s Plumbing
,
”
parked on the street just down the way from her house.  He fiddles with recording equipment as he pulls out a cell phone, then uncoordinatedly dials a number.  The van man speaks to his caller. “She’s meeting a Dr. Berk tomorrow morning in
Virginia
at
eleven a.m.
”

A male voice replies, “I’m on it.” 

The van man hangs up the phone.   
What are you up to today, Agent Natan?

Inside her house, Natan stands looking out the window at the van, staring knowingly.
First it’s a heating company, now it’s a plumber.  That Mark’s a busy guy.
Natan runs her fingers through her hair.

Chapter Twenty-eight

             
Several trees line the walks outside of Dr. Berk’s office building. Natan walks up to the entrance of the building.  A man with binoculars peers at her from a nearby rooftop.  An unaware Natan is oblivious.

             
Inside the building Natan stands outside a door labeled “Dr. Simon Berk, Ph.D
.”

She pauses. 
I guess a skeptic always doubts. 
Natan opens the door and enters the reception area of Dr. Berk’s office.  She sees a secretary seated behind a desk near the entrance.
 
The secretary greets her, “Good morning.  You must be Dr. Berk’s
eleven o’clock
.”

“Yes,” Natan says.

“Okay.  I’ll let him know you’re here.”

“Thank you,” she acknowledges.

The secretary picks up the phone as Natan takes in the visuals of the office.

She eyes Dr. Berk’s many awards, accolades, and credentials strewn on every wall.  The secretary puts down the phone and motions to Natan.  “Go right in.”

“Thank you.”  Natan walks through another door.

In the interior of the office, Dr. Berk, a handsome forty-nine-year-old professor, sits

behind a perfectly organized desk.  He rises to greet Natan, extending his hand. “You were correct, Agent Natan…”

Natan shakes his hand, unsure of what he means. “I’m sorry?”

“You found me…no problem.”

Natan smiles. “It wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.  I’m surprised you’re not listed, Dr. Berk, with all of the information available about you on the Net.” 

“Please,” a smiling Dr. Berk motions Natan to sit down in a chair in front of his

desk. 

             
Natan sits. “Thank you.” 

Dr. Berk continues, “Privacy is an allusive thing these days…but I’m sure a person in your position understands that.”

“Yes.  I understand that very well,” she replies.

An inquisitive Dr. Berk asks, “So…tell me, when did the N.S.A. become interested in the Bible Code?  I never would have imagined this research would ever be on their radar.”

Natan stammers, “Well, uh…the N.S.A. just recently came across information about the Code.  We hear that there are new claims that the Bible Code may actually hold mathematical certainties that help prove its validity.”

“Agent Natan…that’s impossible.  I’ve been researching the Bible Code for a decade now and, I’m sorry to say, you’ve been misinformed.  The Bible Code proponents have used the same claims that they always have…and they’re just as invalid as they have historically been.  I can’t believe the N.S.A. would have any interest in this fabrication.”

“Dr. Berk, you’re telling me you’ve found
no
scientific data in support of the Bible Code?”

“It’s a fairy tale, Agent Natan.  Let’s just say the research supporting the Code isn’t sound…and there is an incredible amount of concrete scientific proof in
opposition
to the Code.”

“What proof?”

“You mean to tell me that the N.S.A. doesn’t know about the research done with the books
War and Peace
and
Moby-Dick
?”