Truthseekers (19 page)

John’s trip had turned hectic. He was on the phone seeing which of his team and confidants was where. He was striking out. No one was anywhere near Lake Superior. He had learnt that Chant’s nephew Brian Altin was there gaining information for Mr Black, as well as two other family members representing two other channels. Black obviously had an interest in these Indian affairs. He knew that none of the family
in the area had the ability to outfight the woman. It would be lambs to the slaughter, so he thought of an entirely unique plan. One he felt Chant would love, as would the media already there. As the car sped down Lexington John started laughing in the back of the car. It was so simple. It couldn’t fail. He himself would take care of the other two tonight, supported by two others of his squad, yet the plan in Duluth. That was pure genius.

He almost forgot the pain in his ankle as he flew up the stairs to Chant’s office.

* * *

Stacey returned after just a couple of hours walking. It had started to rain, plus she had seen a man run down on 53
^rd
Street. Hardly anyone ran out to help him. It was pouring with rain and he just lay there. She started to cross the street and then some police came and shooed people away. She decided she didn’t like New York after all.

Rocko was up, albeit looking a little slow. He was thrashing round like a wildebeest. She started crying when she saw him, the shock of the man in the street capping off a wild ride that week. Rocko may have been rough and tumble but his heart was huge. He drew Stacey close and held her until her tears subsided. Then he told her he would fix everything. Lunch it was at Park on the Green in Central Park. Stacey smiled and wiped the tears away. Rocko was the big brother she never had. The truth be told she was missing her kids and was sending them photos she’d downloaded off the Internet of African safaris so they would think she was having a great time. By now she just wanted to go home.

23

It was just after 11am and the Isle Royale National Park was coming into view. The boat had slowed and was making its way to the dock.

David had explained to the reporters on the boat that he was in the USA researching indigenous cultures under a Maori grant. He had decided to be partly truthful and told them the New Zealand Maori had recently discovered their own DNA included Taiwanese strains, which they never knew before, their myths being clearly from the Pacific Islands. He said he had heard the Minoans had mined the lakes and that the Chippewa have Minoan DNA and since he was in the USA, he and his South African research assistant had decided to make the trip. The tribes he represented had close affiliations,
which is how he got a meeting (he told the media it was closed door). They seemed to buy it.

He also noticed that Brian Altin had been on his phone a lot. Not unusual for a journalist, yet he noticed Brian was agitated and had kept looking his way. Abbey had picked up the same.

David had told Abbey that somewhere in the bay off this island was another rune stone. It was about ten feet down. Stacey’s research had showed him some underwater pictures of it. There was no hooked X, and he felt it was probably a ruse, thrown overboard. David had told Abbey he was sure that a ship left from this island sailing through the great lakes and following the river through Montreal and Quebec it had left with the last of the Templars on it nearly 700 years before.

The fast ferry docked and local Indian people took the media crews and David and Abbey to a lodge. They were treated respectfully, yet everyone was very quiet. It seemed this was a momentous occasion and people were treating it with reverence.

The lodge was cosy and warm, an open fire crackled and it was adorned with a variety of Indian regalia and there were a host of people sitting around chatting and sipping tea and coffee. The occasion was most definitely formal. Brian ushered his crew to set up immediately and the other crews followed suit. The two elders would come from different parts of the lodge led in a ceremonial way to the fireplace to meet officially and then they would adjourn behind closed doors with other elders for what was to be a pow wow with an undisclosed theme. All that was officially released to the media was that this was about the future of the tribes and unity.

David made his way forward to the man who looked almost like a wedding planner. He had security in his earpiece and a clipboard with the proceedings on it. David introduced himself. The man was polite but firm.

“Yes yes, Professor Carlos (David’s Peruvian name), they will see you first. You have three minutes with them according to my schedule. There is an interest in what you say, but you will have no time for questions. Your information will be considered.”

“Um… Oh I had hoped for more… Could we fit ten minutes? I have come a long way,” said David

“We have all come a long way, Professor. But not Indian relations until now. You have three minutes. Now please step aside. I will call you up when the time is right.” The man was firm and held his hand up to David; the conversation was over.

David returned to stand by Abbey. “Well this is going to have to be the best pitch of my life.”

Abbey smiled. “Nah… you already made that … and here I am.”

David smiled but looked nervous all the same.

Just then drums sounded. It was that rhythmic Indian feel. The soft chanting of the tribespeople in the room followed. Cameras rolled. Through a door to the right of the room came some men in suits. Behind them, a strong and powerful man, hair in a ponytail, skin rusted by the sun and a life of hardship and understanding, entered. The man with the clipboard announced: “Chief Lone Bear of the Chippewa.” The man acknowledged some applause and stood silently. The room felt like everyone had direct contact with this wise man’s eyes. David felt it was like looking directly into the akashic records.

The drums then started again, this time the chant was louder, a little more rhythmic and different. The door opposite opened. Some men came in, not overdressed, but in ceremonial clothes. The man announced: “Chief Ghost Wolf, elder of the Hopi of New Mexico.”

A pause, nothing happened, then a frail ancient man entered. He had a stick, was withered and bent over. He moved very slowly. It appeared to David that under a hat that was way too big for him and clothes that he had been dressed in for the day, this man may be well over a hundred years old. The room applauded and the old man just waved his hand down at them in humility and stuttered across the floor. He came right to Chief Lone Bear and looked up. It was obviously difficult for him. Lone Bear was a huge man, but he did it. A smile turned up at one of the old man’s lips and he said quietly, “I could still take him.” The room erupted with laughter and the two men embraced and completed a sacred handshake.

Ghost Wolf seemed to be blind in one eye. It was foggy and he squinted out the other. The room came quiet. Cameras were rolling. Every person in this room felt this was an occasion of some reverence. There was almost a minute’s pause. It felt somewhat uncomfortable and then the MC said:

“From New Zealand to pass on a greeting from the Maori tribes to their indigenous brothers, Professor Pedro Carlos.”

About to step forward and still planning how he would pitch what he wanted from them, David never got the chance. Stepping right in front of the cameras with his microphone was Brian Altin who spoke first.

“Revered Chiefs, forgive me this interruption. I am Brian Altin of NBC. These people are not who they say they are. His name is David Clark and he is a treasure hunter and this woman is Abigail Beckingsale, a known assassin and ex militia, who has taken the lives of many indigenous tribal leaders in Africa. Guards!” he yelled.

Cameras spun to David, who was not quick enough. Abbey was, she moved fast and spun covering her face from the camera’s prying eyes. The security around both chiefs shielded them and had drawn weapons. The place looked like a Mexican standoff, yet one side had not drawn a weapon.

“What do you have to say for yourself Mr Clark, you impostor? Whose life are you here to take today?” Altin beamed as he spoke in a melodramatic tone. He had played out John’s ingenious plan. Instead of killing them, he would discredit them. Even with cameras on, they could say nothing that could tell the world why they were there. They were impostors and they had been disclosed to the world. It was a tremendous play by John. Discrediting them in front of the world, showing their faces and as such stopping them getting vital information or being taken seriously. They could produce the document signed by Constantine right now with the lineage of Christ and still no one would believe them. It was over.

David was speechless and just stood there, trying not to make any moves. Abbey stood facing the wall, her face hidden from the cameras, yet her hands held high so security would know she was not a threat.

A long time passed. Cameras rolled and everyone waited for silence to break. Then it did.

Pushing out from behind a guard was Chief Ghost Wolf. He squinted directly at David and the media person.

“I’ve been shot at by plenty of white people in my ninety-two years on Earth, but none has been a New Zealander. In fact you’re only the second I have met and the other was a wonderful man. Turn those cameras off.” Ghost Wolf had found a voice.

“But, but,” said Altin stumbling, and not expecting this.

“Be quiet, young squaw.” The younger Lone Bear directed the insult right at Altin. “I have never liked you media types and for certain for you to interrupt lets me know things aren’t as you say they are. Take their tapes and disc drives, gentlemen.” Lone Bear nodded at his guards.

“You can’t do that,” said Altin. “We have rights as the press.”

“General Custer thought that too,” said Ghost Wolf enjoying his thumbing at the American establishment. The cameramen started handing over tapes. Most of them had grown up watching Westerns and knew these old Indians weren’t about to muck around. Ghost Wolf then turned his attention to Abbey.

“You can turn around now, Miss. Hell I may even be able to see your face, if I squint a little more. What are you carrying?”

Abbey turned and stepped forward to the Chief.

“It’s just a little gun, for shooting the appendages off media who are too big for their boots, that’s all.” David swore that smile must have saved her ass with some of the most powerful and brutal men on the planet. With the ninety-something year-old Indian, he almost thought he saw Ghost Wolf ’s heart flutter.

“You keep it, Miss. I’m certain you didn’t bring it for us, but you both have come a long way and these folk sure are interested in you. You better escort me to a secure room. Old Lone Bear wasn’t given that name for nothing and he and I have a lot of talking to do. Firstly we’d like to hear why everyone here wants to stop our historic meeting. You and your man better come and tell us why.”

Lone Bear indicated to his team to put the media in a room, confiscate their cell phones and communications equipment and await further orders. The room had a bar so most of the media was happy. Altin was fuming. His name was now on a list of failures and the family did not like that.

24

David and Abbey were led into the meeting room. Already there were various elders seated. No one looked that surprised to see them. They were ushered to sit in the circle and served a cool drink. No one even checked Abbey’s gun. She was still with it.

David smiled as he looked around. He felt strangely at home. Lone Bear and Ghost Wolf were whispering quietly. Lone Bear spoke first. David realised what a chief should sound like. He had the timbre of knowledge and wisdom within his voice. Only in his late forties, he was a commanding presence.

“Brothers, this is a time of great change. Our Mayan brothers predicted this change for centuries. It is here.
Before we start on this momentous meeting, you have already seen how the establishment will work against us now. They send their children as they are scared. Their elders are finished. They live in fear. It is now that is our turn to stand, for everything that is right, to re-establish the great buffalo runs in this century and to morph as we have done before. Before we start today’s proceedings we wish to listen to two new friends of the tribes. They have come a long way and I am certain their message is important, but first my fathers beloved friend Ghost Wolf wishes to read from the Hopi.”

Ghost Wolf stood and was acknowledged.

He began to speak and the room was silent.

“You have been telling the people that this is the eleventh hour, now you must go back and tell the people that this is the hour. And there are things to be considered . . .

“Where are you living? What are you doing? What are your relationships? Are you in right relation? Where is your water? Know your garden. It is time to speak your truth. Create your community. Be good to each other. And do not look outside yourself for the leader.”

Then he clasped his hands together, smiled, and said, “This could be a good time!

“There is a river flowing now very fast. It is so great and swift that there are those who will be afraid. They will try to hold on to the shore. They will feel they are torn apart and will suffer greatly.

“Know the river has its destination. The elders say we must let go of the shore, push off into the middle of the river, keep our eyes open, and our heads above water. And I say, see who is in there with you and celebrate. At this time in history, we are to take nothing personally, least of all ourselves. For the moment that we do, our spiritual growth and journey comes to a halt.

“The time for the lone wolf is over. Gather yourselves! Banish the word ‘struggle’ from your attitude and your vocabulary. All that we do now must be done in a sacred manner and in celebration.

“We are the ones we’ve been waiting for.”
*

The room acknowledged him.

It was then indicated that David should speak.

David stood and looked around the circle.

“Good day esteemed leaders, great chiefs and wise council. My name is David Clark. I am from New Zealand. This is Abigail Beckingsale from South Africa. We have been on a journey, a quest of sorts… for truth. We have been shot at and friends murdered by those with power who want our message quietened. You have seen how they try to discredit us. We flew here from Cusco in Peru to be with you not to acknowledge this day. We did not need to come to do that. We came to ask you a question and it seems this time is the time in history to ask, be heard and be answered for the good of all mankind and to relieve us of the greatest scam we have faced in our known history.”