Glow of the Red Star

By Paul McCoy

A dramatic journey through a present tense view of Tom Sanders, who is an Afro-American archaeologist that will unknowingly rip open the theory of time travel. When he's assigned a mission that will set his life on an innovative path after the undiscovered territory to save a life.

A primeval Mayan Indian tribe that once populated a metrop

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rapture Inc.
• Release date: Jan 13, 2023
• ISBN: 9781959483076

Book preview

PROLOGUE

{The Beginning}

"As you search for the truth from others, you’ll eventually find it within yourself."

As to whether one believes in the big bang theory or that God created the earth in six days then rested on the seventh. Outer space is lush with majestic and magnificent changes, that create unexplainable events that arise even to this day. Long ago, deep in the far dark, but not- so-empty corner of our solar system, an interstellar phenomenon was the beginning of circumstances that cried out in quest of answers for centuries to come. Many will try to explain the strange and magical forces that slumber in secrecy.

There’s a colossal elliptical galaxy called Cygnus A, where a super quasar event occurred. Cygnus A had absorbed a lesser radio galaxy nearby; this merger of the two galaxies had caused the stars and planets in the smaller galaxy to explode under the enormous magnetic pressures put upon them by the gravity of dark matter in Cygnus A. This cosmic event manipulated the dark matter of the radio galaxy to reverse directions and compress instead of expanding, releasing massive amounts of energy waves. These energy waves consisted of various forms of radio rays in the color scheme of red light, and the rays were called cosmic radio emissions. These radio emissions will travel through space in every direction at ten times the speed of light, an equation that we on earth deem impossible. Other planets in distant galaxies, including Earth, will receive some of these radio emissions.

Throughout the world, eyes search the night sky for answers. This has occurred thousands of times every night for many centuries. Out there, someone is aimlessly gazing at the darkness of outer space. What appears to most of us is an infinite vacant darkness. It has held its secrets since the start of time. Exposing its mystifying yet obvious revelations, the stars and moon hold their own secrets.

The opportunities to do something absolutely mind-blowing is just beyond the next star you can see. It has been believed that the chosen must follow their path in what appears to be the unfailing truth of their destiny. The chosen will be forced to confront the challenges of endless adventures imploring to be discovered. Amazing things occur when the emotion of desire is added to the recipe of life. A factual discovery of the previously unknown has adopted a student, Tom Sanders, a common man, who is given the key to unlock the door to the future and the past. This will be just the beginning of something that will activate the journey of a lifetime…

CHAPTER 1

{Part 1 New York City}

Placing too much faith in someone that you care for could lead you astray from helping yourself.

Just as I turn and look out a small window of empty obscurity, an onslaught of dazzling sapphire cuts, angels of zigzag lights cross the sky. The right wing of the plane instantly catches on fire; screams fill the airplane, and sweat wets my shirt. I can feel the plane dropping from the sky fast, and I know we’re going to die! I’m pulled by some unknown force away from this realm and confronted by a stranger. He’s reaching out for me with hands the shade of clay; his eyes are glowing like burning embers in the night… My body jerks, shocking myself awake as if I’m about to protect myself from falling off the edge of the world. I am drenched in sweat and sitting upright in my bed again. This is the third nightmare I’ve had in five nights, and I have yet to decipher their meaning…

I’ve reached that moment in my life where I’m now compelled to endure the torture of fame. Magazines and other tabloids call me the most renowned explorer of all time. It cracks me up, reading some of the headlines describing me. Things like: He’s a six-three two-hundred- pound hunk of a man with looks that only can be described as dark and handsome and truly mesmerizing. In addition to his charming demeanor, he catches the eyes of any female who might cross his path. I can’t help laughing out loud because I’ve never seen myself that way. It’s amazing how others picture you or how sometimes they make the picture appear the way they want it to look.

Reflecting back on my life, it reinforces in me the solid foundation needed to stay grounded. Only I know how much effort it took to accomplish all my missions. However, I’m totally unprepared for the life- altering events that are heading in my direction. Once I traverse into a forbidding domain, only then will I see my life endeavor change forever… I was raised in a small town called Clinton, North Carolina, which has a population of about six thousand strong and was founded by deep-rooted families that migrated there long ago around the 1800s. They lived through tough times, and they were forced to put in a rigid day’s work. The settlers virtually built the town from the ground up, where their sweat and blood saturated the land. This was the sacrifice made by them, a rank of long- forgotten generations of the past. Our home quietly rested deep in the cozy lower lands where there was lots of time to kill. Having no siblings to play with, I spent most of the time fantasying about my life and the adventures that I hoped would be in my future. I would often take long hikes in the woods and pretend to discover new civilizations, often losing long tracks of time, ignoring the screams of my mother calling my name. My parents were hardworking people who always tried to give me what I needed. My dad worked on the local tobacco farm; my mother cleaned homes for the rich, something that I truly despised. My successful explorations abroad enabled me to take care of my folks. Both of them are now retired in a comfortable little house in Florida, with the days of resilient labor and minuscule pay behind them. They insisted that only good grades came home. Being very aware that it would someday make it achievable for me to chase my dream, I started working meticulously to earn a four-year scholarship at the University of North Carolina, acquiring a bachelor’s degree in archaeology. I also studied astronomy for two years only to gain some extra credit. I’m very intrigued about the beginning of one’s life to the demise of another. I lived my entire life looking for answers to the question What if I could change the past to make a better future? If only I had the power. I thought about this on a regular basis.

CHAPTER 2

After I finished college, it came as a big surprise to everyone when I joined the U.S. Navy and got accepted to the U.S. Navy Academy in Annapolis, Maryland, an institution of higher education. Once there, I excelled to earn top honors, quickly moving up the ranks because of a couple of acceleration programs and my diligence coupled with determination, setting an unprecedented mark by making the rank of lieutenant commander in less than five years. At the age of thirty-five and having always kept myself in excellent physical condition, I decided to take a shot at joining an elite group called the U.S. Navy Seals.

I never let peer pressure affect my decisions in life, but on that most consequential day, it just sounded like something I had to do, thanks to Alfred Stevenson, a preppy sort of guy, about twenty-seven years old, who was born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and is an orthodox from Boston, Massachusetts. You could clearly pick him out in a crowd of voices with that irritating Boston drawl pulling on his tongue. He quickly became a person who angered me to the point of rage, which made me want to embarrass him every chance I got, especially in front of his pals. Believing that taking on this particular challenge could only make me a more efficient journeyman in the future, So what the hell, I pondered to myself. I’ll go for it, signing up for the next available training exercise that was to come later that fall. Buds training was tough! Very tough! That’s what the training program is called, a venture to separate the men from the boys. It was, without a doubt, the most trying moment in time for me to complete. At times my very soul ached to the point that it too needed medical attention. Who knew that the extraneous workout of a six-man team run on the beach while carrying a three-hundred- pound telephone pole on our shoulders could be helpful in bonding grown men into one solid fighting machine? One by one, Bong! Bong! Bong! A candidate would signal his defeat by ringing the bell of freedom. Three times, yes, yes, that’s what we called it: the bell of freedom. You bums, I thought as guys would relinquish themselves to the overpowering effects of sleep deprivation and body fatigue. As someone walked away from the exercise, we knew where he was going. I would just ponder to myself, How can you show an embarrassing portrait of weakness? Your willingness to give up is what I’ll use as a reinforcement tool to strengthen myself. It gave me the fire to drive on. Support was right at my side in the form of my teammates, and one in particular would become my best friend. That’s my buddy Ed, a city boy from New York.

CHAPTER 3

Ed and I would remark to each other, Look at those cowards. What weaklings they are, while breathing heavily from having just endured a jog of twenty miles. As the training went on, we found ourselves saying it time and time again. The fragile men gave up shortly after the run; for them, the pain was just too intense, that made it easier for them to justify being a quitter. Ed would say, Yeah, man, you know you can’t count on them when the shit hits the fan in the bush. We would then slap our hands together in a high five or tap our fists together to show our solidarity to the team, saying, Brothers for life, which is our motto . Every time the bell of freedom rang, it strengthened our willpower to engorge any contemplation of quitting. Mental challenges like those taught me how to acclimatize to any situation, materialized to be my strong point.

I remember the day it hit us like a surge from a lightning bolt. Something caused a change, a transformation that will defy belief. A strange and uncontrollable force surrounded every team member. It became clear to us that nothing could stop a human driven by the deep dark powers of desire. Now strengthened with something that was more dangerous than all the armament that the military could produce, we now willed the power to handle any foe that we would encounter, and from that day on, we did!

I’ve seen a lot by going to many amazing countries; some were strange and underdeveloped. While I was there, the experiences I encountered fueled my yearning to explore the world. Oftentimes I had reflections about my grandfather Monroe Sanders and the journeys he had. My father told me how he and his dad never really got the chance to know each other because he was only five when he died. This is why he didn’t desire to walk in his footsteps; he wanted to make a path of his own. My dad just says that he was killed during the Pearl Harbor attack in 1942, and all he has is the picture that I have now and rumors that he was clandestinely training to become a member of the first black pilot fighter wing. That was just the way times were then. I religiously have thoughts of him just before taking on a new journey. I believe that it’s this image of my grandfather that influenced me; he had to be brave to go into untested territory. In my eyes, that’s a heroic accomplishment. I’m making a pledge to my forefathers that someday I will leave my mark on this world too. Maybe I’ll win the Nobel Prize, but I really can’t call it. Whatever it might be, it’s going to be infested with plenty of mischief along the way. You can count on that. Accepting dangerous missions was the only way I could reach my objective. I needed the ace crew, starting with my friend Ed, the best in the country when it comes to security. I won’t do a job without him.

CHAPTER 4

March 1, 1990

I’ve been out of the military for some time now. At forty-five, I have made my mark as an expert in the field of archaeology. I traveled all over the world, and my discoveries have been noted in the top editorials, and my achievements have been well- documented in mainstream society of archaeology diplomacy. Completing a lot of jobs in many countries had earned me the designation as the most experienced and fearless explorer of all time; I’ve received testimonials from professors from one end of the globe to the other. Declarations of my groundbreaking techniques and my relentless determination had captured the attention of several investors who were interested in ancient artifacts from countries that were trying to keep their secrets to themselves, which means they’re surrounded by the threat of danger. Soon a new prospect will test me, a venture that most explorers will never think of entertaining; I, on the other hand, welcome it…

The Ingersoll & Bernhard Insurance Corporation is one of the biggest insurance agencies in the United States. The top members are preparing for a board meeting with regard to my museum: The Institute of Archaeology Studies in New York City. The museum is presently covered under this firm, but times are in turmoil. Without proper hazard insurance and lack of interest from prime investors to support me, I fear that funds from local contributions will dissipate soon. The final consequence will be that I’ll have to shut down the whole operation indefinitely. I’ve made several attempts to raise money, falling short of the expectations that were projected. This meeting with Ingersoll & Bernhard will determine whether I’ll maintain insurance coverage and save my museum. Convincing the board members that I have a plan to rectify this situation is essential. If I fail in my efforts, the museum will have to close its doors. The board is led by a head chairman, Kells Inglewood, who has held his position for over the past twenty years. His hard-nosed system is why the company leads the pack in profit gains during his tenure.

The elevator slowly ascended to the executive floor where my meeting will be held as troubling thoughts enter my mind over and over. What will I do if they don’t give me the chance to come up with the funds? How could I have allowed this to happen to me? I’m squeezing the handle of my briefcase tighter and tighter as the tension builds. I’m fighting off the apprehension. No! No! Not now, I can’t let them see me sweat. It’ll be a dead giveaway that I really don’t have a plan.

I’m going into a large open boardroom on the eighteenth floor of the twenty-story building. The scope has the appearance of a law firm office supported by fine art portraits from abroad. Two large paintings of the original founders, Mr. Ingersoll and Mr. Bernhard, are framed elegantly. Their faces are as stern as the facade of the present chairman, Mr. Kells. Mounted lamps overhead sharply brighten the portraits that seem to gaze directly at me as soon as I enter the room. In the middle of the space is an eight-feet-long oak table shining with a high gloss finish, suggesting the mystique of old money. Around the table, sitting with apparent eminence calmness, are three old distinctive-looking men, Mr. Inglewood is at the middle. The three together make all the big decisions for the corporation as to whom they will continue to do business with and whom to disperse with.

"Dr. Baldwin, have a seat. We’ve been anticipating your arrival," Inglewood says with shroud stillness.

Yes, Baldwin, please take a seat at the end of the table, adds Emil Morris, who is to the right of Mr. Inglewood.

The third man, Jansen Morin, offers, Coffee, tea, or water to satisfy your thirst? He chimes in from the left of Mr. Inglewood. Oh sure… using the old technique of offering a drink before dishing out the bad news of rejection.

No, thanks on the drink. I’ll just take a seat so we can get on with the formalities, I say, placing my empty briefcase on the table.

As you very well know, the time has come! A decision must be made, Dr. Baldwin. Can I assume that you have your payment for the museum’s premium in that briefcase of yours? Inglewood inquires with the sound of expectation in his voice.

Not exactly but close, I say in response.

Inglewood then retorts sternly, That’s very disconcerting news, Dr. Baldwin. I really hoped we would be able to continue doing business with you. You know that we must discontinue our services with you shortly unless you can convince us that you can bring your account up to the appropriate standard by the end of March.

I placed my hands on top of my briefcase before making my pledge. What I have here in my briefcase is the plans for the most prodigious exploration by far. This will go down in history for decades to come, which will be branded above and beyond reprehension. Unfortunately, I can’t share with you what my exact plans are at this time due to security reasons, of course. I’m sure you can understand that. I ensured that I’m using vigorous hand expressions, trying to give off the impression that I have some big intentions in store in the near future.

CHAPTER 5

All three members lean back systematically in their chairs as they silently contemplate the potential revenue if I’m successful; a hoist in my premium because of the valuable relic that will be discovered? Morin bows forward to give a fleeting look over to Morris for a brief second, and then they both slowly glance toward the head chairman, Mr. Inglewood. Seemingly reading one another’s minds, the head chairman slowly nods in agreement. Not wanting to let a possible loss of profit go to a rival company, it’s the board’s practice to give some of their clients leeway if they all agree.

Morin now anxiously looks at me to say, Dr. Baldwin, this board has decided to extend your policy until you have completed your exploration, with one slight change in the payment amount.

Mr. Morris then interjects, Are you sure of what you’re about to get yourself into?

Sure, I’m fine with that… What are the adjustment requirements? My throat begins to dry up from the stress.

Well, just a small increase of about 10 percent. That’s an extra $10,000 a year, Morris says.

They’re teaming up against me. I am getting dizzy as my head rebounds back and forth to respond fluently, feeling like that mirrored silver ball that gets bounced around in a pinball machine.

I accept your offer. Now, gentlemen, I must take my leave now. There’s much work that I have to complete, I said, uttering hastily as I promptly grabbed my empty briefcase and then made a quick dart for the exit.

Oh, by the way, Dr. Baldwin, we’re sending a messenger to your office by noon tomorrow with the final particulars. Please be prepared to sign them so that they will be returned to us by six o’clock. Thank you, Mr. Inglewood ends, his body posture profoundly sending me a message. Of course, I’ll be highly anticipating its arrival, I said, as I calmly close the door behind me. I still can’t believe that I’m accepting such a ridiculous agreement as to pay an extra ten percent on my premium; I’m definitely over my head now.

CHAPTER 6

I’m ill to the deepest hollows of my stomach, strolling around aimlessly into the dark pit of uncertainty. After an hour of traveling, I’ve finally made it back to my town house in Long Island. I’m pondering… Where in the hell will I find something unique enough to fix this predicament? Turning the television on to catch the nightly news, throwing my old body into a recliner, I close my eyes to relax away all my negative feelings of losing the museum. As I find a brief moment of blissful tranquility, a special report comes on about the Mayan civilization in Mexico, near Guatemala.

A woman’s voice blasts across my living room. "This is a special report from Barbara Southern, on the study of the Mayan temples and ceremonial centers. I’ll be discussing with experts about the development of Maya astronomical calendar and their ability to predict both the solar and lunar eclipse, and take a closer look at the writings of the well-known explorer John Lloyd Stephens of 1839 and his book, Incidents of Travel in the Yucatan. Stay tuned for more."

I’m jumping from my recliner with the burst of energy like a child at play. That’s it! I shout out loud, running to my phone with insuppressible eagerness. My hands barely function as I dial a number by memory. Why didn’t I think of this earlier? Professor Fonsaca should be in his office at this time of the day. He’s a Mexican archaeologist in the city of Guatemala.

Professor Fonsaca, it’s Dr. Baldwin from the Archaeology Museum in New York City. How have you been? I speak with the sensitivity that the matter deserves.

Oh yes… yes, Dr. Baldwin. Good to hear from you. How can I be of help? he asked with curiosity.

"I’m in the process of sending an exploration team to Guatemala, where you are.

I’ll be funding a fact-finding mission for my museum… Oh really, that’s interesting."

I’ve come across some information that the Mayan tribe of Guatemala had some very interesting skills. I’ve wanted to contact you for some time now in regards to the research that you’ve completed on the ancient Mayan civilization. I say while writing down some notes of things that will need my attention.

Really… I’m impressed by your interest in my work. I understood that I was the only one that even cared about the highly advanced tribe of that time period, Dr. Baldwin.

Professor Fonsaca, I wonder if you’d be able to give me some information on the people, information to kind of guide my archaeologist in the right direction.

It’s funny that you ask, but the only person that I would trust with my work is a man named Tom Sanders. Fonsaca sincerely, wholeheartedly believed me.

Tom Sanders is someone I’ve chosen to go with me on this expedition. Haven’t notified him yet, but he’s the guy I’m using. He’s going to be tough to get though…

Indecision hits me heavily; it wasn’t until the words had long left my mouth when I realized what I had really said. I remember that Tom hates my guts! I continue with an explanation. He’s not too happy with me because of the last job I had asked him to do for me. You could say I… I had some complications. He didn’t like the flight arrangements. A memory of that situation at the airport races around in my mind; he put words together in a way that the dictionary hadn’t planned them to be used.

Fonsaca then inquires, Baldwin, what happened?

Well there was a slight mix-up with the flight diplomacy, and he wasn’t too happy with it. I was limited with funds, and by the time all the arrangements were completed, he and his team had to go low budget. You know how he feels about flying in anything but mainstream commercial airlines.

Yes, Yes… I understand, but Tom’s the only person that I will consider giving my work to, Fonsaca says with certainty. I can hear through the receiver that he’s pushing paperwork aside on the top of his desk. He then adds, If you can’t convince him to do it… I can’t help you.

Give me some time, and I’ll work on getting Tom to do the job. I happen to know that this is a job he’s always wanted to take on, so I’ll work on him. I’ll call you back when the provisions have been set.

Okay, I’ll talk to you then. I’m looking forward to what great finds he may uncover, so good luck with getting Tom, Fonsaca ends, and there’s a click that cuts off the call.

Full of brawling happiness, the emotion I’m relinquishing upon my living room is like no one has ever seen. Dancing around the living room, I sing a song of relief, I’m going to save the museum… I’m going to save the museum. Yeah, Yes… I am!

Swinging my arms about, my elbow knocks over a rare vase from Europe; it smashes instantly once it hits the hardwood floor. I didn’t like that piece anyway. I’m trying to convince myself to believe, realizing that it would be wise to stop dancing around before I injure myself. Okay! That’s enough of that. I’ve got work to do, a phone call to make, people to see, and places to go. A powerful strain pulls at my stomach as I theorize over how I can convince Tom to take on this job. He was pretty upset with me the last time we talked; very… very angry, he was. If I’m not mistaken, I could’ve sworn that he had threatened to punch me in the face the next time that he sees me. Maybe he’s forgiven me?

I just have to throw myself at his mercy, pleading with tears in my eyes if necessary. Why not? That’s what I’ll do: put on a sad case of pitiful beseeching. Peering out the back window of my town house, I admire the bright lights of the city. There’s a glow of sparkles reflecting off the water, making the sight of the waterfront from my sliding glass doors appear dazzling and mind-boggling, so I seize the moment. The soothing glitter is beyond doubt hypnotizing to my spirit. With this sign, I know for sure the exploration is going to save the museum, and everything will be okay.

CHAPTER 7

It’s March 3 rd … and I’m calling Tom Sanders. I can’t deny that it does make me somewhat edgy, but he’s the key needed to make this all a success.

Hello, this is Tom, the confident voice said at the other end of the line. Hello, Tom, this is Dr. Greg Baldwin. I hope you’re not still upset with me. I have something very special to tell you.

Why would I be upset, Greg? I’ve always wanted to fly six hours in a plane with seats made of wood, layered with paper-thin wadding… Ouch, I guess I deserve that one. He’s using my first name only; this isn’t going well. Before I can reply, he has more to add. And how could I forget those chickens that they forgot to kill before bringing them on the plane? Nothing like domestic birds swaying loosely about inside a plane at twenty thousand feet.

Yep, he’s still upset. I maintain my silence to let him rant a little more. What is it this time, Greg, the lost family of refugees in Cambodia or something odd found in the Alaskan mountains that needs to be dug up? My breakfast is getting cold! Tom’s tone vibrates mocking. He knows in all probability I have a project that I can’t get anyone else to do. There’s a great level of danger with this one.

Tom, don’t be so harsh. I just want to share some information I received from a Professor Fonsaca at the National Archaeological Museum in Guatemala City. This museum has rare collections of Mayan artifacts in their archives. It has been brought to my attention that there are several inscriptions that they are unable to decipher.

He then sharply replies, What does it have to do with me?

Tom, I know that the last exploration didn’t go as planned but- He interrupts, You damn right it didn’t go as planned! That rust bucket you called a plane nearly gave me a heart attack!

Hold up for just one minute. You need to be a part of this one, Tom. If not for me, but for yourself. I’m trying to get him to calm down a little bit, but he’s obliged to repeat his dreadful details adding another creature to the mix. All right, Doc, I just never got the chance to tell you how much I appreciated the flight from hell. You know… I always wanted to fly along with chickens flapping around losing their feathers and a primate jumping about screaming at the top of its lungs at twenty thousand feet. So tell me, what do you have to convince me that it will be worth my time and aggravation? The bitterness seems to have faded out of his voice a bit; he called me Doc.

I’ve done some research of my own on this very interesting tribe. The true nature of this Mayan society and the meaning of their cryptic hieroglyphics have mystified scholars for decades. The chronicle of its history remains unknown to scholars even now. The most that they can decode is a description of a clan that once populated the lower lands in the most southern parts of Mexico, which is now known as Guatemala. As you know, there are many dangers, so even the most flamboyant explorers are afraid to take on those journeys. Luckily for me, Professor Fonsaca recommended you.

Dr. Baldwin, I’m familiar with the professor’s work myself, but what else have you discovered?

The information received was that there was a tribe that existed a long time ago. This tribe may have populated the city of Tikal, the only city that hasn’t given up all of its secrets, first and foremost because of its remote location. Think of them as the long-lost relatives of the modern Mayans, which were slightly abnormal.

What was so unusual about them that would need my special attention? Stories were told that they disappeared many years ago without a trace of evidence of their demise. The only thing they left behind was their great city walls inundated with strange hieroglyphics. That’s why we need to get to the city of Tikal to discover what’s there.

You know what? I’m pretty busy right now. I don’t think I can take a job like that right now. He’s playing hard to get, it appears. I can’t blame him. I’ve just got to let him expel a little. He’s still angry, which means it’s up to me to pique his interest enough to do this.

Tom, there’s more… please bear with me here for a moment! I did some digging around after talking to the professor. I called some of my closest connections in Guatemala, who spoke to some of the natives there. After compiling more information, they told me that these Mayan Indians also had the ability to see into the future. Some say that the head priest from those ancient times had predicted a time of great change in the year of 2012.

Come on, Doc! What kind of bullshit are you trying to feed me now? No, Tom, wait a minute. Hear me out. I’m serious. Most believe that they possibly had the ability to travel through time. They believed that these changes were going to be drastic for their culture. They may have used some kind of strange force to travel into another dimension in time so that they could live out their existence in peace. I’m sensing that I’m starting to get his full attention. Judging by the silence on the other end of the phone, it’s time to add the icing on the cake.

Some believed they also made sacrifices to appease their gods. We know all about the Spanish conquistador Pedro de Alvarado who began the subjugation of their descendants in the year of 1523, but there are some people that want more answers. Tom, I know that you and your crew can find the answers to this mystery.

He’s trying his best to sound uninterested. Well that makes an interesting story, Doc. What do you want me to do?

I reply nonchalantly, I know that a man of your stature can see some advantages here, especially if you can find any evidence that the Maya experimented with the study of time travel.

Tom passively says, Baldwin, you know that I’m very busy with that missing West Indian relic research.

At this point, I really can’t feel him out. The additional silence is turning my stomach inside out. He’s going to tell me to get lost! I know it. Perhaps he’s more upset with me than I had figured.

Dr. Baldwin, it seems like you have a serious problem here. I will think about it for a few days.

That’s excellent, Tom. I want you to give it a moment to sink in and absorb the information. By the way, have you seen your friend lately?

What friend would that be?

That pretty young lady. I think that this would be a good chance for you two to spend some time together.

She’s doing well, thank you, and as far as you trying to use her as a means to entice me to do this trip, it won’t be a factor.

Okay, I see. That wasn’t my intention. I was just trying to give you a thought of someone you might want to consider accompanying you if you decide to take on this assignment.

I have enough things on my mind right now… I have a full plate. I’ll get back to you soon with my decision.

Please, can you give me an answer now? I feel the sick weight of pleading coming on.

CHAPTER 8

I was just about to have my breakfast: two eggs over easy, two slices of wheat toast accompanied by assorted jellies, four pieces of bacon, and a large glass of orange juice, a meal of champions. I’m standing in my contemporarily ornamented kitchen with no slippers or socks. The granite floor is cold to my bare feet; I’m sidetracked by the below the belt punch of Dr. Baldwin’s request. It’s hard to be heated with a guy who’s offering me a dream mission. Dr. Baldwin once again has a job that I can’t refuse, but Oh, man, the anger I felt while I was on that airplane. It took two days for me to get the smell of those animals out of my psyche. Even to this day, I can see that very annoying monkey jumping from seat to seat the whole flight. I can’t deny I wanted to do great harm to the primate for all the crap he was putting me through.

Anyone who works in this business knows that Dr. Greg Baldwin is having a problem with keeping his foundation open and is in dire need for a groundbreaking find to keep it afloat. He sounds anxious and might let me write my own check. I’ve held him on pause long enough for him to sweat his briefs, waiting for my response. I’ll be damned if I pass this up and let anybody else get this job.

Raising the receiver to my ear, I exhale heavily before responding, I don’t have time right now, Doc. You have to find somebody else. I give him my best performing arts as if I really didn’t want the job, hoping it doesn’t backfire on me.

I can perceive the sound of panic in his dialogue; sincerity chokes him by the throat, Tom, I really think you should reconsider what a discovery like this would do for you and your staff. The possibilities are endless, and Tom, I’ll be honest with you. I need this exploration to be successful. I’m trying to save my museum!

Doc, can you guarantee that the flight will be first class or at least a reputable airline? Also I don’t expect to pay a dime out of pocket. No questions asked! Yes, I’m being stern and demanding; he deserves this treatment.