“I have a friend who’s an Oxford European history professor. Worth seeing if she’ll have some insight. And we can hide out with her. From there we can reach out to the cave explorer and do whatever we need to do…”
The rest of the thought, unspoken, was to stay alive.
McCauley nodded. “Okay. South is New York. If we turn around we can fly Boston to Heathrow. But I vote for North and Canada. We can fly out of Montreal. It’s about seven hours away. Game?”
“Game.”
En route, Katrina found some leads to the French spelunker, Claude Bovard. She read a story of his explorations in China’s super caves, carved out over six hundred million years. Maybe he’d have a clue.
Fifty-four
“Oh, my God! I don’t believe it,” Renee Kritz exclaimed. She hadn’t seen Katrina Alpert in more than three years. Now, one of her best friends was at her brownstone doorstep with an American.
Kritz lived on a cobblestoned street lined with gable-roofed houses in the quaint north London neighborhood of Canonbury. It has a rich history and over the centuries, notable residents included Thomas Cromwell, Sir Francis Bacon, George Orwell and in recent years, Keira Knightley.
Quinn instantly liked Renee. She was five feet four, a dirty blonde with an engaging sense of humor, quite in contrast to the three advanced degrees she held in theology, history, and anthropology. Anyone who called her Dr. Kritz could have been referring to any of the disciplines. She was the perfect friend for Katrina and the perfect person to trust.
After they cleared the dishes from dinner and switched from the complex French burgundy to an Italian late harvest dessert wine, the conversation turned to the subject of Quinn and Katrina.
“So, how long have you known one another?”
They laughed and simultaneously said, “Let’s see, a week? More? Not sure with the time differences. The travel keeps throwing me off,” Katrina admitted.
She explained what her assignment was and her first impressions of McCauley. Next she deferred to Quinn.
“We’ve actually been through a great deal in a short time,” he said. “You might call it explosive.”
They had agreed on the London flight that Katrina would handle the initial explanation. She took Renee through the events from their first exploration of the cave to the meeting, the discussion with Greene, the subsequent chase through Bakersfield, and the attack, as she now described it, at the site.
Kritz was particularly intrigued by the photographs McCauley produced — which actually showed very little. She examined them once, then again, each time without comment. On the third review she stopped and tapped a picture which best captured the rock against the blackness “This.”
“Yes?” Katrina asked. “What about it?”
“Reminds me of….”
McCauley encouraged her. “Reminds you of what?”
Kritz shook her head. “Can’t pinpoint it. But I think I’ve seen a picture like it before.” Suddenly she changed her mind. “No, not a photograph, a sketch…possibly in a book.”
“A sketch?”
Her friend tried to recall. “I think.”
“But you’re not sure?” McCauley added.
“Well, not completely. I can’t place it or…”
“Renee,” Katrina said, “it’s very important.”
“I understand. I’m just not sure.”
It was a frustrating answer, but it was something.
“Was it in a scientific journal?” Katrina asked.
“No, it reminds me of…” Kritz searched her memory. “Maybe it was in…” She thought more. “Describe it.”
“Like you see here. Just totally black, but with a high gloss to the touch. You can feel it, but you can’t see it. Weirdest thing I’ve ever encountered.”
“Got it.” Kritz looked for answers in the ceiling and around the room. Nothing immediately came to her. “Maybe it was in an old book.”
“How old?” Katrina followed up. Her heart was racing.
“I don’t know. Old.”
“More specific?”
“I’m trying to remember. Archival old.”
Kritz taped the photographs again.
“Maybe something from the 1800s. I’ll give it more thought. Maybe it’ll come to me.”
They sat silently for minutes. Kritz broke the silence with a different thought.
“I can’t speculate on what you have seen,” Kritz volunteered. “I can talk about who may be after you.”
“How?” Quinn wondered.
“Deduction.”
Katrina and Quinn were ready to listen to any theory, plausible or incredible.
“I’ll start with the basic truth. You discovered a secret.”
“No argument there,” McCauley agreed.
“So, let’s make a list of whose secret it could be.”
“Good idea,” he acknowledged.
Kritz went to her desk for a yellow pad.
“Okay, don’t bother explaining why, just list what comes to mind.” She handed them the pad and a pencil.
“Like?” Katrina said needing some prompting.
“Like big and small; obvious and outlandish.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“Come on. Think paranoid, Katrina. Who’s after you?”
McCauley took a stab at creating the list. He called them off as he wrote.
US Government
Army
Air Force
CDC
Katrina understood now. She added her own thoughts.
Research Corporations
Think Tanks
CIA
NSA
“Can I be honest with you?”
“Please,” Katrina and Quinn both said.
“Too ordinary.”
“But you said obvious,” Katrina replied.
“I did. But go outrageous.”
Kritz rose again and went to her bookshelf. She pulled a number of volumes while her guests threw out additional guesses.
Halliburton
Black Ops
Area 51 guys
“More!” Renee implored.
A rogue corporation
Aliens
“Okay, now based on what you think could be possible, eliminate those that don’t meet that test,” she said from the other room.
Katrina took the pencil from Quinn. She had no idea what to cross out.
Renee returned with a set of books. She put them on the table, examined their list and picked up another pencil. “At this point, there’s no logic, only supposition. So here’s what I’d remove.” Renee proceeded to cross off everything.
“Oh, shit,” McCauley proclaimed. Then, “Sorry for my language.”
“It’s okay,” Kritz said. “I’ll explain.” She pointed to each. “Too new, too new, too new,” she said thirteen times. On the final, “aliens,” she exclaimed, “Wouldn’t that be fun. But no.”
Katrina posed the natural follow up. “Then who? Or what?”
“Well, I’d go for something more unusual. And we should reframe the question. To my thinking, ignore what you’ve found. Think about this as a cover-up.”
Katrina didn’t follow.
Kritz cleared her throat. “Whoever is after you is real. They may not have created it…whatever it is. But they’re trying to keep your discovery from the public. Actually, more than that, from public scrutiny. Their goal is to protect, not expose. And that, my dear friends, brings us to secret societies.”
She dropped eight books squarely on the dining room table.
“What kind of secret society?” McCauley asked. “Like Skull and Bones? Bilderberg? Freemasons? And what the heck is that religious sect?”