The Eden Prophecy

CHAPTER 28

On a day when the marine layer had burned off and the sun shone warmly over Southern California, Professor Michael McCarter sat on the rear porch of his son’s house, babysitting his five-year-old grandchild. The boy was attempting to hit an oversized plastic golf ball with an oversized plastic club. So far the little guy had hit almost everything else around him, including both of McCarter’s shins. But he hadn’t given up.

The sound of the phone ringing got McCarter’s attention. “You keep swinging,” he said. “Grandpa has to get the phone.”

The boy smiled with the type of gleam only a five-year-old could possess, and then whammed the head off one of the prize roses.

McCarter stepped inside, shaking his head and mumbling, “It’s a Cinderella story …”

He closed the screen door behind him and picked up the phone.

“Hello.”

“Professor,” a female voice said.

McCarter did not struggle to place it — they were too close for that — but his emotions were mixed. On the one hand, he cared greatly for the person on the other end of that line. On the other hand, he now wished it had been a telemarketer.

“Please tell me you’re retired,” he said, “and you need a reference or a place to crash.”

“Afraid not,” she said. “Looking for some help. Knowledge really. Got a minute?”

McCarter felt his throat closing up. He’d worked with the NRI for the better part of two years, first as a consultant and then as an operative of some kind — he still wasn’t quite sure what his title had been. They’d turned out to be the two most thrilling, important, and mind-altering years of his life. They’d also been incredibly painful and dangerous. Having barely survived, he’d been damn glad when they were over.

Danielle and Hawker had been part of his world then, but he’d bid them farewell six months ago and hadn’t heard from them since. Not that he’d expected to, at least not until one or both came to their senses and gave up risking their necks around the world.

“I’m finally walking without a limp,” he said, thinking about the bullet wound that had almost cost him his leg.

“Don’t worry,” she said. “I’m not asking you to rejoin the team, just need your take on something.”

McCarter felt somewhat relieved by that statement. “Are you with Hawker?”

“He’s elsewhere right now. And I’m guessing he’s got his hands full, although probably in a much more interesting way than I do.”

McCarter wondered what she meant. He chose not to ask.

“So what have you gotten yourselves into now?” he said.

“I can’t tell you,” she said. “But I have photographs of an ancient scroll that need to be looked at. Not a normal scroll, either. It’s made from pounded sheets of copper.”

“Like the copper scroll from the Dead Sea,” he said.

“So I’m told, although it’s been said that this one is much older.”

“Where did it come from?”

“Somewhere in Iraq,” she said. “Or maybe Iran. Some of the writing on it is supposed to be Sumerian. Although it could be Klingon for all I know.”

McCarter laughed. “I can work on the Sumerian for you. And I know a few Trekkies who can do the Klingon, if you need it.”

“Good,” she said. “I’m sending an encrypted email.”

“What’s the password?”

“The date our last adventure ended,” she said. “Do you remember?”

It had been the culmination of years of research, a moment that had changed his perspective on what man was truly capable of.

“How could I forget?”

“Good,” she said. “The file’s on its way. Moore knows how to reach me when you have something.”

McCarter knew how to reach Arnold Moore, and though he would have preferred just to deal with Danielle, he guessed she would be on the move constantly.

He looked around at the nice suburban setting he now called home. He was wearing flip-flops, a faded Hawaiian shirt, and some old comfortable jeans. He felt safe and secure and blissful in his son’s house.

And yet the call from Danielle sparked worries in his mind. Worries for her and Hawker, worries for what they might be involved in trying to stop. Worries for his children and most of all for his grandchild.

“Should I be afraid?” he asked.

“You won’t be in danger for doing this,” she insisted.

“That’s not what I mean.”

Danielle hesitated; an ominous sign.

“It may be nothing,” she said.

“But …”

“We’re trying to stop something from happening,” she said. “Something that none of us wants to see occur.”

Of course they were. What else would they be doing?

“The scroll may have nothing to do with it,” she added. “Or it might. It’s just a lead we have to run down, but the quicker the better.”

For a moment McCarter thought of digging deeper; if he pried she would tell him. She owed him that. But then he decided he didn’t want to know. If the answers were too terrible, it would distract him.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“Bad enough that I need all the help you can give us,” she said.

McCarter took a deep breath. “I’ll get to the file as soon as it comes in,” he said. “I’ll be as quick as I can.”