Ark (17 page)
Authors: K.B. Kofoed
He learned that lots of people were interested in the ark. Many claimed to know where it was located. Some said it was still under the ancient walls of the city of Jerusalem. Some claimed it was hidden in a secret cavern under the spot where Christ had died on the cross. There was a lot about it on the Internet. Of course there had been a few attempts to rebuild it by religiosos of one kind or another.
Gene had seen it all, but he always went back to Jim’s drawings. Finally he realized that Jim had found the key to how the ark may indeed have been an instrument of great power. The long trail looking for answers led him back to where his search began: to Jim. When he finally did go back, Jim had provided him an explanation by way of Dan Slater of how the ark worked. Strange that an agnostic artist in Philly should provide more answers than the guardian of the ark itself.
Now all that was moot.
John seemed to be in a bad mood. The June first deadline was only a few days away and his father was playing games. John had been trying to jog away his anxiety doing laps around his estate.
He arrived at the house in the woods at the same moment Gene pulled up in his BMW.
John’s gray sweatsuit was stained with perspiration and he wore a Yankees cap and sunglasses. John rested a tired arm on Gene’s shoulder as they entered the house. “You look pale, old friend,” he said. “Are you okay?”
“Sure, John. I was kind of ... Is Arlene going to be here?”
“Not today, ol’buddy,” said John. “We need to talk.”
“I didn’t invite Jim,” said Gene. “Did you?”
“Nawww,” said John.
“Why not?” asked Gene. “If this is business ...”
“I guess I didn’t want old Jimbo around this time because I don’t want any hassles, big or little.” said John, hovering over the model of the ark in his rec room. “Jim’s always got a bug up his ass about something.”
“Well,” said Gene, “I can understand how he feels. We always seem to be forgetting to tell him about our decisions.”
“I have to go to my Dad on this one,” said John. “Who else do we know that has the key to Fort Knox?”
“What’s happened?”
“Ol’ dad paid me a visit a few days ago.”
“Unannounced?” asked Gene.
“Out of the blue,” said John, pulling his sweatshirt off and throwing it on a chair. “Seems Daddy has to keep the gold under his thumb.”
Gene had no idea what John was suggesting.
“The gold will be shipped to Los Alamos.”
“So they can manufacture...?” Gene tried to sort out what he was hearing. “But if we’re going to put it together here ...”
“You’re not getting it, Gene,” said John. “It isn’t going to be built here.”
“At Los Alamos?” Gene asked in disbelief.
“Right. Can you go down there with me this weekend?”
Gene remembered that he had to close out a special issue of one of his magazines that week and would most likely be working into Saturday. “I don’t think so. Not this weekend. What does he want us to come down there for?”
“A meeting,” said John.
“Can’t we conference by phone, say, on Sunday? I can probably make it on Sunday.”
John shot him an angry look. “He wants us THERE.”
“I can’t just drop my magazines,” said Gene. “Why not ask Jim?”
John shook his head. “Are you kidding? Jim?”
Gene described his phone call with Jim and pointed out that Jim seemed to be the man with the answers. John disagreed. “He’s an artist, Gene? What possible expertise can he provide?”
“He’s an artist. That’s right. Remember it was artists who built the original ark. Besides...”
“Yes?” said John. “Besides ...?”
Gene was pleased that he could make a pitch for Jim. He didn’t have a clue how Jim might feel about going to Los Alamos or even if he could go, but he barreled ahead with his suggestion, partly to placate John and partly to placate his own conscience. “Jim has always been the one with the intuition. He divined the configuration of the cherubim. No one else ever did.”
“That’s quite a recommendation, Gene,” said John. “Jim should put it on his resume.”
“All I know is that it was Jim who came up with the key to this whole thing, the twin parabola.”
John nodded. “So you keep telling me.”
“My father said that he wanted you and me to join him at Los Alamos, Gene,” said John. He leaned over the table without looking at Gene and fiddled with the miniature tent that covered the tabernacle. “All your points are well taken, but the man in charge of the gold must be humored for the moment. I don’t want someone throwing a shoe in the works. I need an expert on this thing and it has to be you, Gene. You’ve done the legwork. You went to Ethiopia. You have a collection of literature on the ark that rivals most folks’ entire book collection. You’re the man, Gene. Do it for me.”
Gene felt like he was being blackmailed, though no threats were made. “This is the biggest issue of the year, John. I’ll lose my job if I walk away from its closing.”
“You won’t lose your job, Gene,” said John as he fiddled with the Tent of Meeting. “I told you, my friend. You’re the man!”
John turned on the lights above the table.
The tent automatically raised to the ceiling, revealing the ark with its tiny electric bulb. “My Dad tells me that his people are very interested in our work. The guy in Ft. Knox, General Sharkey or something, has stipulated that a few of his people be on hand for the initial planning and construction.” John looked at Gene. “Are you getting this?”
Gene nodded. “I’m hearing you, John,” he said in a quiet voice.
John leaned against the edge of the table. The fake dirt that surrounded the miniature complex crunched under his weight. “This is the most important meeting, Gene,” he said. “We can bring Jim in on it later -- when he can’t cause any real damage. But for now, especially now, I need you to be there. I can’t answer all the questions myself.”
John looked deeply into Gene’s eyes. His expression was like an innocent child’s, begging for a favor. “Come on Gene,” he said, “I can count on you, can’t I?”
RUMORS OF WARS
Jim couldn’t have gone to Los Alamos anyway. He and Lou got the commission to do all the promotion materials for Philadelphia’s Super Sunday, a celebration of autumn that occurs every October. Since the city needed everything finished by the end of July, they had their work cut out for them.
After his meeting with John, Gene felt compelled to contact Jim, at least to let him know that he’d spoken to John Wilcox on his behalf. Jim told Gene how much he appreciated his support, but after he hung up he looked at Lou sadly. “I think I’ve been wiped out of the ark project. I have the feeling that the next I hear of it will be on the news.”
“Good,” said Lou. “We need your mind here. This is going to be a bitch of a summer.”
Two thousand miles away, in Santa Fe, Gene Henson, John Wilcox and his father met at the Wilcox mansion for the first of several meetings before the commencement of the ark project.
#
A month later, Jim and Lou had learned to trust one another again. The city project took all their time and attention. By their original estimate they both expected it to take two months for them to get a handle on the workload, but as July neared, Jim and Lou were surprisingly out from under all their major deadlines and even finding time for one or two pleasant summer barbecues in Havertown.
The ark, for the time being, was on a back burner. Still, every now and again, Jim would wonder what was happening with Gene and the project.
One Sunday, Jim decided to put in some hours on his computer. Filing, mostly.
A little before noon, Gene called. “Hi Gene,” Jim said with delight. “Good to hear your voice. What’s going on?”
“I just got back from ...” began Gene.
“Well, Jim,” he began again. “I just wanted to call to see how you’re doing. Everything okay?”
“Up to my ass in work,” said Jim. “That’s why I’m in town on a Sunday. Did Kas tell you I was here?”
“No,” said Gene, “I guess I forgot what day it was.”
Jim laughed, but he began to wonder what was going on. Gene sounded different.
“What’s the matter, Gene?” he asked. “You sound ... I don’t know ...”
“How badly do you want to follow through on the ark thing?” Gene asked abruptly.
Jim didn’t know how to answer the question. “I’m not sure what you mean. Pretty bad, I guess.”
“What if it meant cutting everyone out. I mean, not talking about it to anyone?”
Jim thought for a moment. “I wish I had an idea of what you’re talking about. It’s hard to answer questions like that.”
Gene realized that he’d talked himself into a hole. “Look,” he said. “I want to talk to you but not here, not like this, on the phone.”
Frustration welled up in Jim. He hated to say it but had no choice. “I can’t leave town for a while, Gene. Lou and I are ...”
“Shit,” said Gene. “I’m in a bind here. I can’t ... I’m sworn to secrecy on this matter but ...”
“You’re sworn to secrecy?” said Jim. “To who?”
“This is complicated, Jim,” said Gene. “I can’t say, except if you’re really interested in following through on the project with us, you’ll have to make some big concessions. You’ll have to swear to keep everything secret.”
Jim started to bristle a bit. “I’m getting weirded out by this, Gene. Why don’t you just tell me what’s been going on?”
“Let me call you back,” said Gene.
When he hung up the phone Jim’s anxiety over the ark project returned full force. He’d been free of it for quite a while and it felt good. Now it was growing back like an organism, attaching itself to his mind. He turned off his Macintosh and left the studio for a walk. The exercise might help.
Jim walked toward South Street, but it was crowded with Sunday shoppers, so he headed east toward the Delaware River. He ended up sitting on a pier watching the traffic on the river. It had gotten quite warm and the Delaware was dotted with small boats, some with sails, wandering aimlessly past the docks. He sat for what seemed to be a long time. Soon he was sharing the dock with a small flock of sea gulls watching him for a handout. A group of black children on inline skates roared by, chasing the gulls away.
Jim decided to go back to work. After all, that’s why he was in town on Sunday. When he returned to the studio, however, he was in no better shape. He turned on his computer and spent the next hour fruitlessly trying to involve himself in the Super Sunday project, but it was no use. Eventually he went home.
Kas, Stephie and her collie greeted Jim as he pulled into his driveway.
“We were just headed out for a picnic at Newlin’s Mill,” said Kas. “Wanna come?”
Jim gave his wife a big hug. “That’s a great idea.”
It had been a long time since Jim had gone on an outing with his family and it felt good. He and Kas set out the food while Stephie and Woolsey cavorted in the lush grass field next to the picnic tables. After they ate the three of them played Frisbee with Woolsey in the middle barking furiously. Eventually the puppy got exhausted and laid down in the cool grass and watched.
Jim came close to forgetting Gene’s call, but not entirely. Sitting next to Kas and watching his daughter happily at play with her dog, the memory of his conversation that day with Gene came back to haunt him. Finally he mentioned it to his wife.
“I knew it,” said Kas. “I knew something chased you away from your work.”
Jim was disappointed that she’d detected his anxiety in spite of his extreme effort to suppress it.
“Damn, Kas,” he said. “You must be psychic or something. I can never hide anything from you.”
“That’s because you’re so transparent.”
“Shit.”
“That’s okay,” said Kas. “That’s something I love about you. Your sincerity. What did Gene say that upset you so much?”
“He went and opened that old can of worms again, without even trying.” He told her the details of Gene’s mysterious call.
“It sounds like John is pulling in the reins on Gene. My guess is that it’s gotten out of their hands. Just wait to see what happens,” she said. “He’ll be in touch again.”
Kas was right. Gene called that night. “I guess it’s only fair that I tell you the facts – straight out,” he said. “If you decide to come on board ...”
Jim exploded. “Come on board?” he shouted. “This is my project as much as it is yours. Now you’re acting as if I’m an outsider.”
“Calm down, Jim,” said Gene. “I told you that getting the gold would change everything.”
Jim relented. “I know, but you really hit a nerve.”
“I’m apparently breaking all the rules by even discussing this with you, and I want you to know that I am in your camp. Unfortunately I’m the only one, and apparently I’m not indispensable either. “
“I thought you were all chummy with John.”
“Yeah, well, John’s a good friend,” said Gene.
Finally, even though he spoke only in vague terms, Gene got the essential facts across.
Jim couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Are you suggesting that our ark project wasn’t a business agreement after all? If that’s true, then what was that paperwork we signed?”
“A deception,” said Gene. “The government has got their hands all over this thing.”
“And who let that happen?”
“I can’t say any more. Unless ...”
“What are you telling me? Unless what?”
Gene paused for a moment, then said, “I want you in on this. Just like always. I can’t say the same for John and his father, though. They think you’re a security risk. If I push to have you brought in on this, then you have to cooperate. You’ll have to swear under oath, under pain of death, even, that you won’t talk about Thunderbolt.”
“Thunderbolt?” said Jim. “It has a name?”
Gene was about to explain, but he realized that he’d already said too much. Jim had expressed no assurances that he’d comply with anyone’s wishes, let alone Uncle Sam’s.
“God damn!”
“Jim,” said Gene, “listen to me. I’m telling you all this at great personal risk just because of our friendship. I went into the ring for you on this so please quit acting like I’m against you. If John calls you and asks for your cooperation, you should give it. That is, if you want to continue with the ark project.”
Jim thanked Gene for sticking his neck out for him. He realized Gene had put himself on the line for their friendship, but that didn’t make sense.
“You’re doing this because we’re friends?”
“I don’t know why I’m doing it,” admitted Gene. “I told them that we need your intuition.”
“Well, they already have my drawings, my work,” said Jim. “I guess there’s nothing else they need me for.”
Gene wasn’t dissuaded. “I want you in on this, but the only way that can happen is if John’s father brings you in. I’ll talk to them and tell them we had this conversation, but don’t let them know I gave you any details. I think John is okay with you. It’s up to him to work on his Dad.”
When Jim hung up the phone he realized that by agreeing to the terms that Gene outlined he wouldn’t be able to share any information with his family or his friends. That meant Dan and Lou. At the moment they were both fully informed and would surely be interested in the ark. Somehow Jim would have to change that if he was going to continue with the project and still be their friend.
Jim went to the bedroom. Kas was already tucked in with a book. “How did the conversation go with Gene?” she asked. “What’s happening with the ark?”
“I’m not sure I can answer that,” said Jim as he undressed.
“Because he didn’t give you any details as usual, right?”
“I just can’t say.”
#
Jim woke up the next morning at five a.m. He lay beside Kas and stared at the ceiling, pondering what Gene had said. He thought of the voice that had spoken to him in John’s rec room while he sat in the dark and stared at the tiny model of the ark.
Where was that counsel now? Where was the voice when he needed answers?
Jim got up and took a shower, but his mind didn’t really clear and his eyes felt puffy.
Kas slept on while Jim debated going back to bed, but by six he felt committed to staying awake. He remembered that today he and Lou had to meet with the printers who were doing the posters for Super Sunday. The designs were done, thanks to Lou’s outpouring of creative ideas. They were at least two weeks ahead of their deadlines, which spelled considerable success for the Raftworks Studio.
Jim breakfasted on a piece of toast and some reheated coffee from the night before. He left Kas a note, deciding to get a jump start on the week.
To his surprise when he arrived he found Lou already at work. He barely greeted Jim.
Jim tried to engage Lou in conversation but Lou only grunted his responses. More than anything Jim wanted to discuss his conversation with Gene, but he found the subject impossible to broach.
When Jim started his Powermac Lou came into his area with a bunch of papers. “Since you’re passing up creative on this, Jimbo, you might as well take care of some of the shit work.” Without waiting for a response, Lou dumped the folder he’d been carrying in Jim’s lap and left the room.
Jim rose from his seat and walked to Lou’s desk. “You have a problem? Let’s hear it.”
“You’re sadly mistaken, friend,” said Lou without taking his eyes off his computer screen. “You’re the one with the problem. I hope you spent yesterday in church.”
“This is a joke,” said Jim. “Okay, Lou. Big yuks. Now explain it to me.”
“I really don’t think you’d get it, pal.”
Jim felt the temperature in the room drop. Out of the blue he was losing his best friend, and he wasn’t sure why.
“I was here working yesterday, Lou. I left in the early afternoon. What the hell is going on?”
Lou spun in his swivel chair to face Jim. “Okay, Jim. Here it is. You used to be the powerhouse around here. Now you’re leaving everything to me.”
Jim had to admit that it was Lou who’d come up with most of the ideas they were using.
“Are you faulting me for not coming up with creative?” he said. “I had some ideas but yours were great. I don’t have a problem using your ideas. They’re great! So what’s the problem?”
Lou turned away again. “I have to finish this invitation before the printer comes,” he said coldly.
Jim walked sadly back to his desk. He wanted to solve the problem but was unsure of what it was. Behind him he heard Lou say, “Sorry, Jimbo, I told you before that I need you here and you haven’t been here at all. You may be putting in the hours but you’re not really here.”
Jim didn’t answer. He figured it was best to just pitch in to the work, to show Lou that he was wrong rather than argue about it.
By the time the printer arrived Lou seemed happier. They talked amiably with the rep and accepted his offer to buy them lunch. Getting perks always affected Lou positively, and by afternoon the air at the Raftworks seemed to have warmed considerably. Maybe Lou’s venting some frustration did him some good.
About four that afternoon Jim’s phone rang.
It was John Wilcox. “Hi Jim,” he said. “Got a sec?”
“Hi John,” said Jim, trying to sound enthusiastic. “How’s the project?”
“That’s what I wanted to discuss with you, Jim,” said John, “but frankly I don’t want to do it on the phone.”
“I talked to Gene,” began Jim.
“I know you did, and that’s what I want to talk to you about,” said John in a calm steady voice. “You know that everything has changed.”
“I don’t know why or how,” replied Jim. “I’ve been out of the loop even thought I thought we had an agreement.”
“Essentially, Jim, we paid you for your work. That’s all that was about.”
“So I’m talking to John, the lawyer,” said Jim. “Let’s cut to the chase. Is this a brush off?”
“On the contrary, this is an invitation. I’d like you to bring your family up to my house this weekend. Is this too short a notice? I heard you were busy.”
Lou came in to Jim’s area with more paperwork. He stopped at the door when he saw Jim on the phone.
“Can I call you back?” Jim said as he called Lou over to his desk. “I have some business I have to attend to.”
Ordinarily Jim would have told Lou who it was on the phone, but after Lou’s attack he decided that to keep his mouth shut. He remembered what Gene had said about secrecy. Perhaps now was the time to begin practicing it.
