CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

“Before Enlightenment, chop wood carry water; after Enlightenment, chop wood, carry water.” Zen Proverb PPenelope leaned back in her chair and let this new information soak in. “Me?” “Yes, pumpkin. You. And you can pretty much expect a rock star greeting, by the way.” “Why?’ “He has told everyone that when we get you to the complex we’ll all be able to see our family and friends again.” “What?” Penelope was stunned. “It’s been rough on some of the crew, especially the married ones that for one reason or another couldn’t have their spouses join us. Walker kept them informed as best he could, but it has been rough.” “I still can’t believe you all volunteered to leave your family and friends behind.” Paula pulled back and gave Penelope a quizzical look. “Of course we did. You know how important this is.” Penelope shook her head. Something between a snort and a laugh escaped from Paula. “You still don’t get it, do you?” “Get what?” 201 The Fourth Awakening “If you have to ask, then you have to ask.” “You’re starting to sound exactly like…” Penelope caught herself before saying Walker. “He who must not be named.” Paula sat back and was visibly fl ushed. “That is like the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.” For the first time Penelope studied her traveling companion. Th ey were close to the same age, with Paula maybe three to five years younger. Incredibly buff, with next to no body fat on her five-six frame, her complexion was dark and windswept like someone who spent most of the daylight hours out of doors. That healthy glow that went deeper than just a good tan seemed to be a pattern with all of the Hermes Project people she had met. She had milk chocolate brown eyes that twinkled when she smiled, but could turn serious quickly. Her auburn hair was close cropped and sun streaked, and her nose looked as though it had been broken a time or two. Attractive, but not pretty by any standard, she carried herself with confi dence and a “take me the way I am or kiss my backside” attitude. She had not noticed before, but Paula was also wearing a different color “Zion National Park” shirt, similar to the one Penelope had on. The man thinks of everything. Anyone who saw them would assume they were old friends on vacation together. Paula flipped their trash in the garbage can and motioned toward the main entrance of the concourse. “We should be hittin’ the road; the shuttle will be leaving in a couple of minutes.” They walked in silence for a few moments as Penelope continued to digest all of this new information. Michael Walker was undoubtedly the most complex and multi-layered person she had ever met. He seemed to be completely sincere in his beliefs, plus he was handsome and rich. Why, she thought, was this man walking the streets unattached? They were nearly to the terminal door when Paula glanced over at Penelope and smiled. “What?” Penelope asked “When are you going to ask me?” “Ask you what?” “What you’re thinking right now.” “What?” “Does he have girlfriend? Is he gay?” “Who are you talking about?” Penelope walked a few more steps when it hit her. “Oh.” 202 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “Oh,” Paula said with a mischievous smile. “Lord Voldemort.” “How did you know that was what I was thinking?” “Good Lord, you‘ve been shoutin’ it so loud and so often it is startin’ to get annoying.” “Really?” “Ya. Really. When you’re sending out thoughts to the universe that loudly people like us can’t help but hear ‘em. Soon you’ll be, too.” “So you’re saying soon I’ll be hearing voices in my head?” Silently Penelope wondered if Walker had been hearing her thoughts on this issue as well. “Yep, well sort of.” “Isn’t that an early sign of insanity?” “It’s on our list.” “What is?” “To see how many people are in mental facilities who don’t belong there.” “You’re kidding?” “No. Those who believe God is telling them to go out and kill someone are probably right where they belong. But the rest may have been awakening, but made the mistake of mentioning the wrong thing to a mental health professional. It’s much worse if this happens to you in a place like Western Europe or the United States which has its head buried so deep in science they wouldn’t recognize a non-symbolic state if it bit them in the ass.” “Non-symbolic. He tried to explain that to me without much luck.” “Enlightened was getting so over used around the compound we sorta came up with a new way to describe it better,” Paula said with a laugh. “That’s the first one to stick.” “Doesn’t help me understand it any better.” Paula sighed and scrunched her face as she tried to find the right words. “Okay. Try this. We use language to communicate, right?” “Right.” “Our language is based on symbols. “Words such as sky, tree, sun, clouds all help us form a visual image so we can make ourselves understood by other people.” “So far so good.” “When you move into a non-symbolic state—some will call it 203 The Fourth Awakening enlightenment but that barely scratches the surface—the symbolic world is replaced.” “Replaced with what?” “A non-symbolic consciousness.” “The logic here escapes me.” “Spoken like a true Westerner. It is much easier to grasp the concept if you live in an Eastern culture.” “Care to explain that?” “Sure. Take India for example. They’re much better at recognizing enlightened souls since they aren’t so committed to rational thought as the end all to reality. In Western cultures they want everything proven scientifically. Over here we might look at someone as a crazy homeless guy muttering to himself. Over there he is a holy man and the folks look aft er him.” “Hmm,” Penelope said. “I did a paper on the Sadhus Holy Men when I was in college.” “Really? Why?” “Far Eastern religions were very hip back then.” “I had kinda dropped that one down the memory hole,” Paula said. “Come to think of it I still have my Ravi Shankar albums somewhere.” “So what you’re saying is there could be people who are Awakening and don’t know what’s happening to them?” “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Haven’t you felt like you were goin’ nuts for the past few months?” “I’ve wondered a bit off and on.” “And what if you had shared those feelings with your shrink?” “I probably would be taking Th ioridazine.” “There you go.” Penelope tucked her arm under Paula’s and pulled her closer. “Let’s get back to what matters, so does he have a girlfriend? Is he gay?” “Definitely single and available. His first wife died about ten years ago, and before the Project he apparently was quite the ladies’ man. Since then, not so much.” “Hmm,” Penelope said. “Interesting.” Finally a straight answer. “Interesting. That’s a good word for it. About every woman above the age of consent that stumbles across his path gets the hots for him.” Paula let her get on the shuttle first and checked behind them before boarding. 204 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “I’ve almost been tempted.” Penelope thought that was a bit of an odd thing to say. “You don’t fi nd him attractive?” “He’s not exactly my type.” “Really? What is your type?” “You, actually.” Paula had a huge smile as she watched the blood drain from Penelope’s face. She patted Penelope’s arm. “Don’t worry, pumpkin, I’m not hitting on you. At my age I don’t have the time or energy anymore to try and convert a straight chick like you. Too big of a project, and it never works out for more than a few months anyway.” Penelope Drayton Spence, suburban housewife and mother of three, was speechless. There had been a moment in college with a friend named Melissa when she had briefly considered the possibility, but her Southern sensibilities and upbringing had ensured she let the opportunity pass. When she finally recovered the ability to speak she said, “I’m fl attered. I guess.” Penelope thought for a few moments and then her reporter’s instincts kicked in again. “What makes me your type?” “You’re pretty and feminine but tough enough that you don’t fold up like an accordion when things get rough. You were great in the airport, by the way. Those two guards walked right up to and all you did was smile and keep walkin’. Very cool. The articles you’ve written so far have been absolutely kickin’. You’re smart as hell and, most important,” Paula waited until Penelope made eye contact. “You wouldn’t be surprised that Paul McCartney was in another group before Wings.” They both laughed. “My son is gay.” “Really?” Paula patted her on the leg. “Some say it’s genetic. Maybe there’s hope for you.” . TThe mood on the Homeland Security Gulfstream was gloomy. The Director had ordered Marcus Wolfe and his team to return to Washington immediately for a personal debriefing on how a restrained suspect, surrounded by law enforcement officers, had been allowed to escape. In the past hour, there had been nearly a dozen reported sightings of Penelope Drayton Spence from Portland, Maine to San Diego, California and pretty much every place in between. 205 The Fourth Awakening . AAssistant Director Robert Smith had elected to stay in Salt Lake City on the remote possibility that one of the tips from the Mountain or Pacific Time zones panned out. Smith was sitting on one of the four barstools in the Club Room of the Radisson Hotel, located about halfway between the airport and downtown Salt Lake City, nursing a second scotch and water, and waiting. He had been there for about forty-five minutes and was just about to give up when he felt someone slide onto the stool next to him. He didn’t have to look up. “I’ve been expecting you.” “Hope I didn’t get you into too much trouble,” Michael Walker said. “Actually this last one worked out great.” Smith took a sip of scotch. “You escaped about five minutes after Marcus took full responsibility for your safe delivery to Washington.” The Walker chuckled softly. “He’s never lacked for self-confi dence.” Smith took another pull from his scotch. “Shepherd knows you have a mole in the agency, and he’s sure it’s me.” “You’re the perfect candidate. I would suspect you, too.” “Thanks, that makes me feel much better.” The two men sat in silence for a moment before Walker said, “Th ey have to know the lid is about to blow off all of this one way or the other.” Smith leaned one elbow on the bar and turned toward Walker. “You wouldn’t throw the Spence woman to the wolves by letting her release classifi ed information…” “I don’t think it will come to that.” Walker said interrupting. Smith turned back and faced forward toward the bar. “I wouldn’t be so sure. For starters, there’s a group at the Pentagon that’s adamant about not declassifying this thing.” “True, but they’re not the ones taking the heat.” “Shepherd is certainly starting to feel it. He’s made Wolfe Agent-in-Charge, reporting directly to him.” “It was only a matter of time.” “I just don’t want to see any of your people get hurt.” “Marcus Wolfe doesn’t scare me. He may be a thug, but at least he is a completely predictable thug.” “He’s a very dangerous man, and if the Director told him to, he wouldn’t hesitate…” Smith let the last of the sentence dangle in the air, unspoken. 206 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “I know, and I appreciate your concern, but it’s you I’m worried about. Shepherd is setting you up to take the fall.” “I know. They’re already moving me out of the loop.” “Th e offer is still open. I’ve got a spot for you whenever you’re ready.” “Judi and the girls would kill me if I asked them to move again.” “Then don’t move.” Robert Smith turned to face Walker. “What do you mean?” “If everything goes as expected, we’ll be opening a liaison offi ce in Washington next week. I’d like you to run it.” “Are you serious?” “Yes.” “I meant the part about being in Washington.” “Yes.” “Out in the open?” “Yes.” Smith shook his head and took another sip from his scotch. “Just when I didn’t think you could surprise me anymore. This Penelope Spence must be quite a lady.” “You have no idea, and neither does she.” “Has Altman gotten an fMRI yet?” Walker grew serious and his smile vanished. “No. Not yet.” “Does she know the danger she’s in just by spending so much time around you?” Walker sighed. “No, but she’s being watched 24/7.” “No repeats of the last time?” “Not if I can help it.” “Shepherd still thinks he can stop you.” “I know.” They both chuckled this time. “Where does the Secretary stand on all of this?” “He’s never seen the big picture on the Hermes Project, and he has enough on his plate that he just wants this to go away. It won’t take much of a push to get him to big foot Shepherd and declassify Hermes.” “Excellent. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. If you don’t want to work for me,” Walker said, “how would you like Shepherd’s job?” “Too political for my taste. Besides, I don’t see him stepping down for this when he’s got me to blame.” “Things can change.” 207 The Fourth Awakening “I don’t think I want to hear this.” “I wouldn’t tell you, anyway. You’re too damned loyal.” Walker patted Smith on the shoulder. “Think of a number, Robert, that would get you to move over to our side, and don’t undersell yourself.” Walker reached into his pocket and placed a $50 bill on the bar. “Give it some thought. I’ll be in touch.” Robert Smith didn’t bother to look up or turn around; he knew that Walker would be gone. The bartender, seeing the cash on the bar walked over and picked up the fi fty. “You ready to pay out?” Smith nodded as he started to reach for his wallet and said, “Th at was from my friend.” A puzzled expression covered the bartender’s face. “Sir, you’ve been alone the entire evening.” Smith finished the rest of his scotch with a single gulp. “Of course I have.” . ZZhack was replaying the surveillance video from the Cincinnati Airport, again. Instead of wide angle security cameras that produced grainy images, the ones by the security gates were of higher quality and covered a much smaller area. The cameras were placed so it was impossible for passengers to conceal their faces without drawing suspicion from the security people. It was definitely Penelope Drayton Spence; of that he was one hundred percent certain. After that, he wasn’t so sure. The only clear camera angle he had was just moments before Walker and the second Spence were arrested. The rest of the time, Walker and she had managed to cover their faces when they passed by, or they avoided the surveillance cameras all together. The guy had definitely done his homework. Somewhere, somehow, they had made the switch between the metal detector in Cincinnati and the main concourse of Salt Lake City. The big question was had they made the switch at Cincinnati or Salt Lake City? When he knew the answer to that, he would have a much better idea where to search for her. It was a long shot, but Zhack began checking the other departure gates that had flights leaving around the same time from Cincinnati. Troy Sabrinsky wandered out of his room and began watching the 120-inch HD monitor. “Sup?” 208 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin Zhack put up the video of Penelope Spence as she went through the metal detector in Cincinnati. “This lady went through airport security in Cincinnati around noon Eastern. Somewhere between here and Salt Lake City, they made a switch to a woman who looked like her.” Troy watched the loop intently. “Got any other angles?” Th e image on the screen changed as it showed Walker and Spence putting on their shoes and walking down the corridor. Sabrinsky had him play the video loops several times. “What else is there?” “Here they are getting on the flight to Salt Lake City.” Zhack began playing the videos from the departure gates at 4X, slowing back down to normal speed when he saw Walker and Spence enter the frame. “This the only shot?” “Yeah. The chode did his homework. We got zip until here.” The two watched as the trio scrambled to get on the jet. “Dude,” Sabrinsky said pointing. “Looks like her to me.” “The Director is all over my case since they arrested the wrong woman in Mormon Town. I’m not going 0 for 2.” “What about video from other fl ights boarding?” “I didn’t see anything.” “Run it.” “k.” When the video of the Miami flight boarding began to play, Troy shouted. “Stop!” “What?” “Go back.” Zhack ran the video backward until Troy held up his fi nger. Troy walked up to the screen where the people were nearly life-size as the video played. “Give me three shots. This one, the one of them boarding the Salt Lake City flight, and a view of Spence’s ass after she cleared security in Cincinnati.” “Buttboy eh?” Zhack goaded. With a few keystrokes, the three images were side by side up on the screen. “You blind geezer, they made the switch at Greater Cincinnati.” Troy Sabrinsky motioned toward the three images on the HD screen in front of them. “WTF are you talking about?” Sabrinsky picked up a laser pointer and used it to circle the white thread 209 The Fourth Awakening on the back of Penelope’s skirt after she had passed through Cincinnati security, then on the skirt back of the lady boarding the flight with Michael Walker. “Dude. You got a one hundred percent positive ID, right?” “Right, so?” “When she went through security she had a white thread on the back of her skirt, and it wasn’t there when she boarded the flight to Salt Lake City.” “It could have fallen off .” “And happened to land on the exact same spot on somebody else’s ass?” Sabrinsky muscled Zhack out of the way and took charge of the keyboard. The frame of the trio boarding the Salt Lake City flight vanished and the other two frames claimed the open space. He zoomed in on the back of the skirt in both frames. “Right there, dude. She’s getting on the Miami fl ight.” Sabrinsky circled the thread on the back of the woman’s skirt. While the woman headed for the Sunshine State had on a diff erent blouse and a floppy hat, she wore the same shoes, the same skirt and, more importantly, the same white thread. Zhack, not liking to be upstaged, was visibly pissed as he reached for the phone to call the Director. “Who’s your daddy?” Troy started gloating and did a little victory dance that would have earned him a “Geek of the Week” award at any dance club in America. . TThe fifteen-mile trip over the pass between Victor, Idaho and Jackson Hole, Wyoming would probably have been more impressive during daylight hours. In the dark, and with no moon, it was closer to a ride on Space Mountain than a Chamber of Commerce photo op. The shuttle swayed and groaned as it labored up the pass, then swayed and groaned as it went down the other side with the driver riding the brakes. At the bottom of the pass she could see a few lights, then quite a few more some distance away. Penelope was expecting to be in Jackson immediately when they got over the mountain, so she was surprised to see a sign saying “Wilson, Population 1412”. They drove for another ten minutes before they arrived at anything that could remotely be considered a town. Taking a left on US 89/US 26, she saw the first indication they had returned to civilization. The street sign said they were on “Broadway”, but it wasn’t much like the one Penelope had gotten used to during her 210 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin years at Columbia. There were fewer fast food restaurants than she had expected for a tourist town, only a McDonald’s on the right side of the road and a Wendy’s on the left. She noticed that many of the buildings were constructed from logs instead of brick and siding. None were more than two or three stories high. Off further to the right she could make out the shadow of a mountain and thought she caught glimpses of ski lifts. It was hard to tell in the dark. “That’s Snow King,” Paula said as she motioned toward the mountain. Penelope never cared much for cold weather. Fourteen generations living in South Carolina had bred it out of her DNA, and her ex-husband had felt the same. On the few occasions they had taken a winter vacation, they had always opted for the tropical rather than the arctic. The shuttle arrived at what could generously be called the heart of town and took a left at North Glenwood, pulling up in front of the Wort Hotel. The historic landmark was located in downtown Jackson just a block off of the town square. Stepping inside, Penelope found the hotel with the unfortunate name decorated with lodge pole furnishings and bright western style fabrics. A sweeping staircase that split halfway up, forming an impressive “Y” on its way to the second floor was similar to the style in many Southern plantations. It was unlikely, though, that any of the antebellum mansions of the old Confederacy would have had a stuff ed buffalo head mounted on the wall of the foyer. Paula handled the check-in; Penelope found their double room to be smaller than she had expected, but comfortable and very clean. Th e room was rustic with two full-sized beds and an assortment of Western style decorations. Paula claimed the bed closest to the door. “Do not leave this room without me under any circumstances. Period. Understood?” Paula said fi rmly. “Understood. “Good.” Paula opened her carry-on, handed Penelope a pair of pajamas, and smiled. “The rest of your clothes will be here soon.” “What?” “Don’t worry about it. Get some rest; you have a huge day tomorrow.” “What happens tomorrow?” “We’re taking you to the compound, and you’re going to get to see the Hermes Project fi rst hand.”