Some of their crusades had a polarizing effect on people who would otherwise have been sympathetic to the cause, such as the call to boycott a summer blockbuster film because one of the characters used the term “pachys,” an abbreviation of the polysyllabic name of a particular dinosaur species appearing in the movie, which to the ear of CDL social justice warriors sounded suspiciously like “Pakis,” a slur sometimes used in the United Kingdom to refer to citizens of Pakistani descent. What most regarded as a completely innocuous homophone instead became yet another subtle racially-charged attack. The resulting blowback, predictably, was further antipathy toward the so-called “politically correct” movement and an increase in anti-Muslim sentiment, which was, Professor suspected, what the CDL had intended all along.
There was nothing on the CDL’s carefully worded website that could be construed as advocating violent solutions, but the rhetoric was rife with subtext and dog-whistles, particularly in the section listing “Enemies of Islam.”
Gerald Roche had been on that list.
Rafi Massoud seemed to have merely been a passive supporter of the group — a Facebook follower, one of several hundred thousand worldwide — and not an activist, but it was a connection the Peruvian national police had no trouble making. Their working hypothesis was that the young archaeology student, seeing an opportunity to strike a blow against a hated enemy of his faith, had slipped away from the hospital, procured a rental car and a gun, and then gone after Roche, subsequently immolating himself in an explosion intended to take the lives of the only witnesses to his crime.
There was no denying that the narrative fit the facts of the situation, and Professor had seen Rafi pull the trigger on Roche with his own eyes. Nevertheless, something felt off about what had now become the official version of events. He knew Jade felt it, too.
For one thing, although the Crescent Defense League had put Roche on their hit list, there was very little in his conspiracy-theory fueled world-view that could be described as anti-Muslim. In fact, he was on record as being a supporter of Palestine and a vocal critic of the Israeli government, which on balance ought to have made him a hero to the CDL. His inclusion on the list seemed to derive solely from a chapter in one of his books where he described in great detail how religions — not just Islam, but all the world’s major faiths — were being used to advance the “Changeling hegemony.” Professor suspected that Roche, who was almost universally regarded as delusional, had been included to make the other people on the list seem equally deranged — insane by association.
Of greater concern to Professor however was the fact that Roche had specifically sought Jade out, and now he was dead. If the official version was correct, then the attack had been an impulsive action brought on by a coincidental encounter. But if the official version was wrong, there were a lot of missing pieces in the puzzle, and Professor needed to know what they were.
Jade wanted to know as well, and she had every right to feel that way, but in typical fashion, her response was to leap before looking, which in this instance meant traveling to London in order to figure out what Roche had been trying to tell her.
“Roche is the key,” she said, almost shouting, though whether this was because of lingering temporary deafness from the explosion or simply unrestrained ardor, it was impossible to say. “Rafi targeted him. Almost like he wanted to silence him. Roche was onto something.”
“You may be right,” Professor said, not for the first time. “All I’m saying is, take it slow. Before we do anything, we have to figure out who was behind this.”
Jade regarded him warily, as if sensing that he was trying to catch her in a logic trap. “So you agree that this whole Muslim extremist thing is a load of crap.”
“I don’t know what to believe. Something about it seems a little fishy. But what’s the alternative? Changelings? Aliens?” He waggled his hands like Jeremiah Stillman which had the desired effect of getting Jade to crack a smile. “Roche said he was being targeted because of what he had discovered about Phantom Time. I’ve got to say, that makes even less sense than the idea that Rafi was some kind of terrorist assassin, but that’s about the only lead we’ve got.”
Jade folded her arms. “Which is why I want to go to London. Roche said he wrote a book explaining everything. We need to see what’s in that book.”
“Roche also said that his publisher was murdered to keep the book from being released. That’s something we can verify with a phone call.”
“Fine. Make the call.”
“I will,” he replied, a little more sharply than intended. She stared back at him for several seconds and then they both burst into laughter.
With the tension finally broken, Professor set about making good on that statement. He took out his smart phone and entered the string “Gerald Roche publisher” into Google. The top result directed to Chameleon Press International, a British firm with a catalogue primarily composed of books written by Roche, but the search also returned an unusual news item.
The story, dating back three weeks, was actually quite familiar, though Professor did not immediately grasp the connection until he looked at the section of the article which had caught the attention of the automated search engine. “Oh, this is interesting.”
“What?” Jade moved closer so she could read over his shoulder.
“Roche was technically wrong when he said his publisher had been killed. Officially speaking at least, Ian Parrott, president and editor-in-chief of Chameleon Press International, is not dead. He’s missing, along with everyone else on Flight 815.”
“Wait, the Flight 815?”
Professor nodded. There was no need for further elaboration. Three weeks after the fact, the disappearance of Flight 815, Sydney to Los Angeles, was still the subject of water-cooler discussions across the globe.
The plane, a Boeing 777, had been proceeding along its designated trans-Pacific flight plan, the pilots making routine checks with international air traffic controllers, with no hint of trouble, until three hours into the flight, all communication ceased. The plane’s GPS locator and radar transponder failed to return any signals and an exhaustive — and still ongoing — search for the plane had not yielded even a scrap of physical evidence as to its fate. The only thing that could be said with any certainty was that Flight 815 had not crashed anywhere along its intended course.
The loss of the aircraft was eerily reminiscent of Malaysian Air Flight 370, which had gone missing more than a year earlier, which invariably led to the as yet impossible to refute belief that the two events were connected. The fact that some debris from Flight 370 had recently been discovered did little to silence the speculation. Were the disappearances the work of international terrorists who were hijacking planes in mid-flight in order to build a fleet of jets for a 9-11 style suicide raid? Or was the explanation something even more diabolical? Theories ranged from the improbably mundane to the unthinkably impossible.
“Roche’s publisher was on the Flight 815,” Jade said again. “Do you realize what that means?”