The Arcturus Man (36 page)

Jared closed the door quietly and pulled off his clothes. It was only a double bed.
He gentled nudged her over a bit. One side of the bed was jammed against the bulkhead.
It wasn’t easy. She stirred and resettled, giving him a little more room. He untangled the
sheet from her legs and, trying to not wake her, put it back over her. He crawled in being
careful to put his weight on the mattress gradually. He kissed her lightly on back of her
neck.
She seemed to smile ever so slightly.
He fell asleep as their bodies went into the
spoons position. For the first time in a while, Jared felt at peace. The night wind sang to
them as they slept. The rhythm of the waves lapping against the boat kept time with the
wind.
As soon as he fell asleep, Jared had a dream that he has had hundreds of times before.

He is in a book antiquarian. He is browsing through old books. He
comes across the same book he always finds in this dream. He glances at
the title, already knowing what it would be.
Floral Rocks
. He asks himself
the same questions he always asks.
Is this a book about mineral crystals
that look like flowers? Is it about cave formations and exotic stalagmites?
Is it something else? What are floral rocks? It makes no sense. He can’t
read the author’s name. It is covered in dust and has been partially rubbed
away by age. He can never open the pages to learn what the book is about.

Abruptly, he is distracted by the appearance of a beguiling young
woman on the opposite side of the row of book cases.
He looks through
the shelf and can only see parts of her, one part at a time as he moves his
head. She is stunningly beautiful. She is naked. He peaks though a lower
shelf and sees a perfect bare breast. He straightens again and tries to see
her face, but he can only see an enchanting smile, her dark radiant eyes,
and her sensuous pouting lips. It is maddening.
What does she look like?
Why is she naked in a book store? They seem to be alone but there must
be many people in the antiquarian. What is her name? Is this Jenny? The
eyes are similar, but not quite the same.
No, the skin tone is wrong.
He
doesn’t know.

He rushes down the aisle and back to where the mysterious girl
was standing.
Someone opens the front door and a blast of wind blows
dust in his eyes. She is gone. The wind begins to howl. He searches aisle
after aisle but cannot find her.

He woke in a sweat. He tried to remember if anything in the dream was
new, if there was anything to discover.
It was always the same.
No, this time it
was slightly different. But how? What was different? He went back to sleep, hoping he would dream again and more would be revealed. It wasn’t.

It was a cold, crisp morning in December.
The sun was up and the sky was clear.
The air was still as it usually is this early in the day. Jenny woke first and went into the
galley to make coffee.
The galley wasn’t quite as warm as the cabin.
She went back in
to get one of Jared’s shirts to keep off the chill.

“Morning, Jenny. Coffee ready?” asked Jared.
“Just take a few minutes.’ She turned to leave.
“That shirt isn’t going to help that much.
Why don’t you come back to bed to

warm up?” He pulled back a part of the blanket and held it open.
“That is not a sincere invitation. I think you have ulterior motives. I don’t want to
take advantage of the weak and infirm,” she said.
Throwing off the covers, Jared jumped out of bed.
“So you think I’m an invalid, huh?”
Jenny had to admit to herself that his recovery was more than amazing. His
stitches were still red, and the wounds were large and raw, but he otherwise didn’t show
any other physical signs of the severe injuries he sustained. The wounds didn’t look as
serious as she knew they had been the day before. The Betadine antiseptic made his skin
look yellow and dead around the wound, but that would wear off soon enough.
He said
that he had incredible recuperative powers and he wasn’t kidding.
“I have to admit that you look pretty chipper for someone who was recently shot.
How do you feel?” she asked.
“I feel fine. Why don’t you come back to bed?”
“Right now I want coffee.
And…let’s pretend we are cultured people. Put on
some clothes. Little Jared looks cold.” She went to the galley.
That really wasn’t a rejection, but Jared was reconciled that she wasn’t in an
amorous mood this morning. She had been through a great deal and this was the first time
she could unwind in a calm atmosphere. It would have been better if he hadn’t tired to be
so playful so soon.
He had already put last night out of his mind.
It was evident that
Jenny couldn’t do that as easily.
He took a quick shower.
When he stepped out he could already smell the coffee
brewing. He toweled dry and opened a drawer to find some clean underwear and socks.
He started to dress.
Jenny yelled down the hatch. “Coffee?”
“That would be great,” said Jared.
“You take it with milk and sugar in the morning, right?”
“Yes!”
She fixed his coffee and handed it to him.
After a few hot sips she put her cup
down on the bureau.
She took off her shirt and stepped into the head next to the small
shower stall.
She was just a little self-conscious about these shared private moments.
She thought about pulling the folding door shut but the head was already very cramped
and she didn’t want to make to seem like she was shutting him out. Yet, she just needed
a little personal time.
“I’ll start breakfast.” He sensed how she felt and knew it was time to leave.
Jenny smiled. He knew.
She knew she wasn’t supposed to take a long shower, but maybe just this once.
The warm water was so soothing. Jared had closed the cabin door. She stepped out dripping to get a few more sips of coffee and then she got back into the shower.
She just
stood under the soft falling water. It was marvelous. The water tank would be filled before they left the marina.
She really needed a long shower.
There were a lot of bad
thoughts that had to be washed away. He had to know that she was just a little frightened
of him.
“Breakfast is ready.” Jared yelled.
“Be there in a minute.”
Jenny came out wearing the same clothes she had on last night, white slacks and a
knitted white sweater.
Jared’s blood stains were all over her white slacks and sweater.
Jared had forgotten that although he had several changes of clothes stored on the boat,
there were no women’s clothes. He had to get something for her in Newport.
Jenny was resisting talking about anything serious.
“I saw this on TV,” She had found a deck of playing cards.
Her shuffle was
clumsy.
Finally, she dropped the cards on the table and swept through them with both
hands. She gathered up the cards and squared the deck.
“Here. Look at the cards. Don’t move them around, just try to remember as many
as you can.” Jared took the deck and riffled them slowly to reveal the cards one by one.
“Why do we need to do this? Parlor tricks make me look freaky.”
“Don’t be silly.
This is just fun.
I’ll try too,” she said.
“I want to learn more
about you. You started to open yourself up to me, but we were interrupted.”
He handed the deck back to Jenny.
“OK, what is the first card?” asked Jenny.
“It is the three of diamonds.”
He then read off all of the remaining fifty-four
cards, including the two jokers. He had memorized the entire deck in five seconds.
“Wow. You are incredible. I pass on taking the test,” she said.
It did make Jared look freaky.
“Do you think there is anything we can do to get these stains out of the sweater?
It has sentimental value to me,” she said.
“Of course, I’ll kiss you.” Jared leaned forward and gave Jenny a quick peck on
her cheek. “I’m sure I can get those stains out.
It’s just a little chemistry.
We’ll save
your grandmother’s sweater.”
“How did you know this? Don’t tell me you can read Runes, too? And how did
you know my grandmother knitted it? OK! Ok! Dumb question. I know how you know.”
“
Kysmik
! Couldn’t be clearer. It means, “kiss me,” said Jared.
“How many languages do you speak, Jared.
Heck, I’m not sure that Runes is
even a language. It’s sort of Viking culture thing,” she said.
“I actually noticed it the night before but you seemed so peeved that I didn’t think
I should bring it up.”
“How many languages do you speak?”
“You’ve asked me that before. What does it matter? I speak quite a few.”
Jenny had almost forgotten the revelations the night that all the trouble started.
Now it was coming back to her.
She had tried to put that night out of her mind. She
didn’t want to think about the killings, but it couldn’t be avoided. It was a poison that had
to be leached away.
“OK. Forget the languages.
How about telling me what happened on Eagle’s
Head.
Who were those men?
Why were they trying to kill you?
Did you kill them?
And….what…” She was talking too fast.
“Get another cup of coffee. Sit down, and I’ll explain everything. OK?”
“Please.” She poured another cup for herself and gave Jared a heater.
“This is going to sound very melodramatic, but I don’t know how else to explain
it.
There are people—Russians in particular—who have tracked me since I was a very
young boy. It was a bureaucratic mistake that allowed me to be sent to the United States
for an education and testing. Once I was at MIT, they tried to get me sent back to the Soviet Union. I never saw my parents again. That was tough for a six year old boy.”
“That is horrible. I am so sorry Jared.”
“That is history now.”
“You must miss them terribly,” she said.
“I do. They sacrificed everything for me. They loved me so much that they sent
me away.”
“That is so sad.” She sat closer and held his hand.
“That was a long time ago, Jenny.”
“Then those men who attacked the island were Russian?”
“Well, no. They were Colombian mercenaries who were hired by the Russians.
One of them is named Rubio Matos. I sensed that clearly but everything else came in bits
and pieces.
They spoke in Portuguese to throw me off, but I speak Portuguese quite
well.”
She wasn’t going to get into the language thing again.
“I understand why they want you back, or at least I think I do, but why did they
want to hurt you, or was that a mistake? Were they trying to kidnap you?”
“No, they clearly wanted to kill me,” he said.
“But, why?” she asked.
“There is an official reason and then there is a real reason. The red herring reason
is that I am the seed for an entirely new species of human. They fear that I am the beginning of a race of…what can I call it…supermen, for the lack of a better word.”
“Supermen? You’re kidding,” she said.
“It is totally bogus, of course. Supposedly, they are trying to rebuild the old Soviet Union they are thinking many generations ahead.
They don’t want me to be exploited by the United States.
They don’t want America to have this advantage.
They
consider it of strategic importance over the next century.”
“This is unbelievable. How can anyone swallow that?” she asked.
“Well, there are gullible people who believe that crap. You know what people say
about the big lie. Big lies are easier to foist on people than little lies,” he said.
“I can’t believe that Russia has long range plans like that. Is it true? I thought that
the fall of the Soviet Union ended that kind of cold war thinking.”
“Well, that kind of thinking did end for the Yeltsin and Putin Governments—well
maybe the Putin Government—but just because we talk about the fall of the Soviet Union, everyone forgets that the old guard never disappeared.
They are all still there.
In
some ways it is even more menacing than it was before. The old leaders of the KGB are
still there. Remember Putin was former KGB, although I honestly don’t think he is involved with the people who are trying to kill me. Anyway, the old KGB melded with the
new Russian Mafia—mostly gangsters and vicious criminals who struck it rich when the
Soviet Union fell and they were long longer kept in check by the KGB or even the police.
They have formed a secret shadow government called Red Snow--красный снег—
krasniy sneg
. Now they control much of the power and the wealth in Russia. It is a sym
biotic relationship. It reminds me a lot of the Medici’s behind the Pope in Italian history.
“Why aren’t you asking our government to protect you?”
“Our government—I really should say small powerful parts—helped get the Colombians into the U.S. through Canada.
There are people in our government who conspired with the Russians,” said Jared.
“You mean to tell me that the United States Government is working with the
Russians to kill you?”
“No, I don’t mean that at all. There are only a few people who want to kill me,”
said Jared
“Then why aren't we calling the FBI for help.”
“We can’t do that.
Two have leadership positions in the Justice Department and
the CIA. I could never be sure that I could trust whoever showed up.”
“Who are these men?” asked Jenny.
“John Comfort Anderson, the Deputy Attorney General, is one.
Franklin Reisinger, the Executive Director of the CIA, is another.”
“I don’t understand.
If having you is such a strategic advantage to whatever
country you are living in, why would they want to have you killed?”
“You’re forgetting that we’re talking about the bogus reason. On the other hand,
Anderson honestly believes the bull shit. He’s a real Bible thumper. He truly thinks that I
am the product of some kind of Soviet genetic experimentation. That isn’t true of course,
but you’re not going to convince him of that. I am a stain that needs to be eradicated. He
is utterly convinced that I am the Anti-Christ—as ridiculous as that sounds. He is a zealot
and he believes it,” he said.
Jenny was shaking her head in disbelief.
“With this much attention, why don’t I know about you already?
Why haven’t
you been on the cover of
Newsweek
?”
“I’ve done everything that I can do remain anonymous.
Fortunately, I have two
world powers that have worked hard at helping me achieve that. No one wants me to become famous,” he said.
“This is getting scary. You are saying that Russia and the United States are trying
to kill you.”
“No…not the entire governments—as I said, just certain leaders—and, yes, they
are,” he said. “The involvement of Anderson and Reisinger is surprising, but then again,
religion is a powerful opiate.
I’m not sure what Reisinger’s motivations are, but as for
Anderson, all religion is superstition and there isn’t anything that can’t be rationalized by
zealotry if God is on your side. Hundreds of millions have died in the cause of one reli
gion or another. That is a number that is so large that it loses meaning.”
“You don’t believe in God?”
“That is one question I can’t answer. I don’t know if there is a God. I can say that
I don’t believe in the God of any particular organized religion. Maybe I’m a Deist. There
used to be a religion called Deism that took that view.
In fact, some of our founding fathers were Deists, such as Benjamin Franklin. I can say that I don’t believe in divine intervention—assuming there is an all-knowing and all-powerful entity in the Universe. I
do believe that religion,
per se
, is blind faith in mythology. You might as well believe in
Santa Clause.”
She was shaken by Jared’s revelation. Jenny was brought up as a Lutheran.
She
didn’t know what to say or what to think.
She already knew that he wasn’t a religious
man but he had never expressed it this clearly before.
“
The man she fell in love with was an atheist
,” thought Jenny.
“I am not an atheist.”
“Stop doing that. I need some mental privacy.” Jenny was very religious. It was
important to her life and important to every one in her family. She couldn't imagine how
anyone close to her could not believe in God.
“Jenny, have you ever read Mark Twain’s
Letters from the Earth
?”
“I heard about it but I never read it. What’s the relevance?”
“Mark Twain wrote this near the end of his life. He wanted a vehicle to serve as a
dispassionate view of our world so he invented a scenario where God sends Satan to earth
as punishment, but only for one celestial day. To humans it would have been an eternity.
Time is, of course, relative to the observer. When Satan arrives he begins to write letters
back to St. Michael and St. Gabriel, trying to explain what he observers.
It is a clever
vehicle because it removes the bias of any morality or ethics that were acquired by living
on earth for any period of time.”
“Twain was not a religious man. He was an atheist too, wasn’t he?” asked Jenny.
“Who knows! Only Clemens can answer that question. It is evident from
Letters
from the Earth
that he disliked the Bible and religious institutions.”
“I can see your attraction to this book,” said Jenny.
“By putting the blame on Satan, he can make radical observations that Mark
Twain, the author, could never get away with. By using a hated character like Satan, he
can ask questions that some people may have wondered about, but never had the courage
to ask. Remember, this was written not too long after the turn of the last century. At that
time, religion was very strong in America.”
“What’s your point?” asked Jenny.
“When God destroyed the entire world except for Noah and his family, how could
God justify killing millions of babies and very young children who were blameless and