Destiny

TEN

Marcus left the State Department, stepping into bright sunshine and the cavernous blue skies of October in Washington, D.C. He walked down the street, entered a parking garage and headed to the elevator. There was the sound of a car door shutting and hard heels coming from behind a row of cars. “Paul Marcus, it is you.”

Alicia Quincy pulled her purse strap onto her shoulder and smiled. She walked toward Marcus. Her dark hair was pinned up, pearl earrings and matching pearl necklace accentuating her long, slender neck. She had full lips and dark eyebrows that arched with her wide smile. “How have you been? I mean, I haven’t seen you since the funerals.” Her voice dropped an octave, smile melting. “I’m sorry. How are you doing?”

“I’m okay. It’s good to see you, Alicia. Are you still at NSA?”

“Starting my tenth year in November. I heard you left Hughes-Johnson not long after—” She gripped the purse strap, knuckles white. “Not long after the funerals.”

“Yeah, I did.”

“I read a story on the Post’s website about you turning down the Nobel Prize. That takes conviction, especially after the president’s nominated for the Peace Prize.”

“It seems to have evolved into something political, and I never meant it to be.”

“In this town, everything’s political.”

Marcus paused and studied her sapphire blue eyes for a moment. “It’s really coincidental, you know?”

“What is?”

“The two of us right here…running into you in this parking lot. It was just a couple of days ago when Bill Gray, your boss, stopped by my farm. Now you’re in a parking garage. What are the odds? What would the numbers say?”

Marcus could see confusion move over her face. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m meeting a friend for lunch. I didn’t know Bill went to see you. Can I ask what it’s about?”

Marcus held a steady, unblinking gaze on her eyes for a few seconds. “It’s about some inquires someone’s been making concerning me.”

“I’m not familiar with this. What inquiries and who’s making them?”

“Gray says Israel, probably the Mossad. But it’s never only one intel agency. The ears and eyes are everywhere. You know that. If they’re asking stuff, others are listening.”

“That’s odd. Is it in some way related to the Nobel Prize thing?”

“Funny, because that’s just what the Secretary of State asked me today.”

“You were there?”

“Secretary Hanover was specific in asking me to reconsider the Nobel award. I think Israel, ostensibly the Mossad, is more interested in checking me out because a professor at the Hebrew University in Jerusalem wants me to examine some documents.”

“What kind of documents?”

“He says they’re from Isaac Newton. Some papers apparently lost for a couple centuries. They were found and delivered to the university. The professor says Newton wrote my name in the margin before his death.”

“Your name? Centuries before your birth?” Alicia smiled, her hand relaxing on the purse strap. “Newton the scientist is Newton the prophet? Come on.”

Marcus blew out a breath. “Yeah, that’s what I thought — a bit too farfetched. This guy, a professor of physics, was insistent. He says Newton spent the majority of his life trying to decipher codes in the Bible, trying to come to terms with…” Marcus paused, his eyes following a piece of paper blowing across the floor of the garage. “This professor wants me to come to Jerusalem and see if I can pick up where Newton left off. Maybe see how close the world’s greatest scientist came to unlocking the secrets of the Bible like he unlocked some of the universe. It may be a wild goose chase, but…”

Alicia’s eyes filled with animation. “But, what?”

“Nothing.”

“This is exciting. Where did Newton leave off? What did he find? What was he searching for? You’re talking about a legendary scientist doing biblical research. I’ve never heard about that side of Newton. Lost papers now are showing up on the steps of a noted research university, and you getting an invitation to look at possible biblical coding. Wonder what you might find?”

“Nothing, because I’m not going.”

“Why? You were so good with encryption, so good at being able to look at the big picture, the whole of something, and then see how components might be used to communicate a message. Maybe there’s something in these Newton notes. Aren’t you just a little curious, Paul? I would be.”

Marcus felt his jaw line tighten, his scalp stretch, a vein behind his left eye pulse. “I’m curious, and I’m anxious, too. Look, I have to get back to the horses. It was good seeing you, Alicia.” He walked toward the elevator and pressed the button. As the doors opened, he turned toward her. “I hope it was coincidental. Give Bill Gray my regards.”

Alicia stood there a moment while the elevator doors closed behind him. She looked down at the tips of her painted toenails protruding through the opening in her shoes, then blew out a long breath and turned to walk away.

Marcus exited off the I-66 freeway and followed the Mill Road toward his home. He looked in his rearview mirror and saw a black Ford Explorer in the distance. He eased his foot off the gas pedal and slowed without touching the brakes. The driver in the Ford seemed to maintain an equal distance.

Marcus caught movement out of the corner of his eye. He came to a quick stop. Two deer darted across the road, their white tails raised like caution flags, instantly absorbed into the sea of autumn leaves. Marcus accelerated, but still giving the driver in the Explorer time to come closer. He could see that the driver wore dark glasses, white windbreaker and drove with one hand. His other hand held a phone.

Marcus resumed speed. He was less than a half-mile to his home. He glanced in his rearview mirror. The driver seemed to slow, giving at least thirty yards between the two cars. Marcus considered driving by his home and cutting back.

He quickly turned into his drive and slowed to a crawl. Marcus kept his eyes on the mirror while the car passed, the lone driver turning his head toward Marcus’s home. The man in the car continued driving.

Marcus pulled up next to his home, got out and unlocked the front door. Buddy greeted him, turning in half circles, his short tail blurring.

“Bet you could use some outdoor time.”

The dog scurried past Marcus and trotted to the front yard, cocking his leg next to a persimmon tree. As he relieved himself, a Fed-Ex truck lumbered up the driveway toward the house. Buddy, leg hiked, managed to cough out a single bark that sounded more like a howl.

The driver slowed to a stop. Marcus approached the truck. The driver nodded, getting out of the truck with a package and a digital signature board.

“Hi, are you Paul Marcus?”

“Yes.”

“I have a package for you.” He handed Marcus the pad for him to electronically sign his name. The driver petted Buddy. “My brother had a dog like this. She could catch eight out of ten Frisbee tosses. Here’s your package. Looks like it came from a place I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“Where’s that?”

“Jerusalem. Have a good day.” The man climbed in his truck, cranked the diesel and followed the circular drive back to the road.

Marcus walked up to his front porch, sat in a rocker made from red oak, and opened the package. He found a letter and a sealed envelope. Marcus read the letter while Buddy sprawled on the wooden porch beside his chair.

Marcus slid the second page from behind the letter. It was a photocopy of handwritten notes that were written in small, precise penmanship. Marcus scanned the words, his eyes searching for anything between the lines, something that was less obvious as he read. He followed Newton’s handwritten words, the prose making reference to passages from the Book of Daniel.

‘Daniel was in the greatest credit amongst the Jews, till the reign of the Roman Emperor Hadrian and to reject his Prophecies, is to reject the Christian religion. For this religion is founded upon his Prophecy concerning the Messiah.’

Marcus finished reading the page and his eyes narrowed on the handwriting in the lower right corner:

Daniel was given the visions from God to be continued by the visions conveyed to the Apostle John. Those revelations will be made whole by those who are yet unborn, but chosen, and according to the visions seen by Daniel and John, the final deliverance of the word shall be given to Paul James Marcus, who, in the year 2015, is awarded a noble medal for healing.

Marcus felt a chill move through his body. His throat was dry, hands trembling while holding the letter. The sun broke from mauve clouds, framing the dark purple mountains in a nimbus of orange. Marcus looked up to see a screech owl fly toward the valley below the farm. The sudden rustle of a cool breeze drew his attention to the multitude of leaves dancing across his porch, giving hint of an early winter. He opened the envelope, his brow tightening when he read the destination.

Marcus held a one-way plane ticket to Jerusalem.