Destiny

NINE

Two days later, Paul Marcus left shortly after daybreak to drive into Manassas to buy groceries, oats for the horses and paint for the barn. He stopped at the Ashton Diner, took a seat in a booth where he ordered coffee from a fifty-something, blonde waitress who had penciled eyebrows drawn high over her wide, brown eyes.

“Special this mornin’ is a country omelet with Virginia ham, diced potatoes and toast or biscuits. All for six bucks. Coffee comes with it, hon.”

Marcus smiled. “Sounds good. Biscuits, please.”

She wrote down the order, nodded and left. Marcus opened the Washington Post on the table. He scanned the headlines, stopping on page two where he read the caption:

The story, the description of the man’s assassination, resurrected the dream Marcus had buried. The article indicated that it was believed General Abdul Hannan had recently returned from North Korea where he had toured that nation’s nuclear facilities. The reporter quoted anonymous sources as saying the general may have been one of those in Syria leading the efforts to build nuclear weapons.

The heavily guarded villa had kept penetration away from the front of the estate. An approach from sea wasn’t expected, especially coming from what a groundskeeper next door identified as a luxury, high-speed yacht.

Marcus finished the story and punched keys on his cell phone. Bill Gray answered on the second ring.

Marcus said, “It’s Paul. Why did you want me to meet with Secretary Hanover?”

“Did you change your mind?”

“How quickly can you set up the meeting?”

“Let me make some calls. What changed?”

“Events of late.”

“Care to elaborate?”

“Maybe it’s nothing more than a gut feeling, some kind of hunch.”

“Okay, I’ll go with that. Call you later.”

Secretary of State Hanover met Paul Marcus in a small conference room adjacent to her office. Merriam Hanover was a career politician. She’d held positions as a U.S. Senator and governor before the president tapped her to become his first appointment after taking office three years ago. She was in her late fifties, dressed in a crisp, dark red suit, graying hair worn up, and eyes that beamed with vigor. A gold eagle pin with a ruby eye and a large pearl in its talon graced her lapel, giving her a rich and stately appearance.

“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me. I hope you like tuna fish,” she said as her assistant delivered two lunches of tuna on salad with sides of fresh fruit.

“I do like tuna. But I find myself eating less of it. The world is catching them quicker than they can repopulate.”

“Then, I’m sure you’d be interested to know that the president is proposing a fishing ban on numerous species that are facing extinction. Our challenge, of course, will be to get the cooperation from nations like China and Japan.”

“The president has my support, for whatever that may be worth.”

“It’s worth a lot. Paul, you’re recognized internationally for your work that resulted in a greater understanding of gene therapy in fighting heart disease. I assure you, your support will help.”

Marcus said nothing.

“I heard the reasons why you aren’t in a rush to accept the Nobel Prize for Medicine. I hope you’ll reconsider.”

“Then you understand my reasons for declining the award, Madame Secretary.”

“Please, call me Merriam. I do understand your reasons. And I am so very sorry for the loss of your wife and daughter. As you know, the president is the recipient of the Nobel Peace Prize, and you are the only other American honored in an award ceremony that the entire world watches closely. It would be in the best interest of everyone if things went well.”

Marcus ate in silence for a moment. The ticking of a grandfather clock in the corner was wrapped in the slight whirr of warm air blowing through the vents.

“Paul, your discovery was a medical breakthrough that’s going to help people around the world. Please don’t undermine the award by refusing to accept it. If nothing else, the money you receive can go to a foundation in your daughter’s name to help other children with life threatening heart ailments. The president has asked me to convey to you our intent to offer a matching grant from the National Science Foundation. I hope you will consider the grant.”

Marcus looked out the window to traffic moving across C Street, the sky steel gray. He met the secretary’s eyes. “Although I don’t feel that I’ve earned it, I’ll give it consideration, and I appreciate the president’s offer of a grant, although I can’t accept it.”

She smiled. “Thank you for you willingness to think about it.”

“As I reconsider it, I’d like to know what you can tell me about the assassination of a Syrian general, Abdul Hannan.”

Secretary Hanover said nothing, her eyes flat.

“Do you know who was behind the assassination?”

“No, why do you ask?”

“Was I invited here for you to encourage me to go to Stockholm to accept the prize, or does this have something to do with what I learned last week?”

“What is that?”

“Bill Gray suggested this meeting with you. He’d driven all the way out to my place in Virginia to tell me he’s heard some chat, some inquiries about my background. Allegedly coming from somewhere in Israel. Does our meeting here today have overtures of that?”

“No, I assure you, it doesn’t.”

“Do you know more than I was told?”

“I don’t. Although, I’m glad you brought it up. Israel is one of our closest friends. They may have a competing Nobel laureate.” She grinned.

“I don’t think that’s it.”

“Oh, why?”

“I got a call from a man who identified himself as Professor Jacob Kogen. He called me from Jerusalem. He’s a mathematician at a university there. He said he’d recently received some lost papers apparently from a private collection.”

“Lost papers? What kind of papers?”

“From Isaac Newton.”

“The Isaac Newton, the long dead scientist?” She smiled, head tilting.

“The same. Kogen said he had other papers from Newton, and he’s convinced that Newton was trying to decipher something concealed in the Bible.”

“What do you mean, concealed?”

“He said some kind of biblical prophecies.”

“I can see how that would interest Israel or any nation, for that matter.”

“Kogen asked me to help him.”

“How?”

“To look at the Newton papers to see if I might find some clue, some way to decode whatever it was that Newton was trying to find.”

“What was he trying to find?”

“That’s a good question.”

“Then you don’t know if he found it.” The Secretary of State held his gaze. “Will you accept his invitation?”

“I don’t know.”

“Paul, if you do find something that’s hidden in the Bible, something of interest to Israel or any nation in the Middle East, I hope you would tell us.”

“At this point, I have no reason not to.”

“Good, then we wouldn’t have a reason to be suspect of this situation.”