THE MCJ

FLASHBACK

A new “Chris Johnson, Anglican Investigator” adventure

Chapter One - Seesaw

Early one afternoon not long ago, Binky, Kathy Shaidle, Dale Price, Amy Welborn, Captain Yips, Mark Shea, Wannabe(Newbie)Anglican, Janjan, Karen Boyle, Brad Drell and Sue Dallstream were all visiting the mansion at the same time along with their wives, husbands, significant others and a few of their older children and other assorted relations.

For once, I wasn’t the reason my friends and colleagues were there and I was delighted. Nicky was the center of attention at the moment because the star of the show lay sleeping in a crib in one corner of the room. One month old Paul Christopher Johnson.

Paul entered the world as 9 pounds and 12 ounces of about as laid-back and jovial a human being as has ever walked the earth. My son had his mom’s looks for which I profusely thanked God every day.

My wife had just gone to get the mail. When she came back, she motioned me over. “This came for you. It’s from the government.”

“Probably a case,” I told her. “Don’t worry, whatever this is can wait.”

I casually opened the letter, read its contents and my happy mood instantly vanished. Nicky immediately sensed that something was wrong. “What’s the matter, Chris?” she asked.

Dale picked it up too. “What’s up, C?” he asked with a concerned look.

I silently handed Nicky the envelope, walked over to the bar, made myself a bourbon and soda, sat down on the couch, sipped my drink and stared at the coffee table. Nicky looked at the contents and shouted, “Oh my GOD!!”

“Nicky, what’s wrong?” demanded Amy.

“There’s a certified check made out to Chris,” Nicky replied. “For $50 million dollars.” Everyone fell silent. “And a note.” She read, "'The President recently reviewed the files on the Ark Case and decided that whatever the government paid you wasn’t nearly enough. Allen says hello. Congratulations on the baby. Our gift should arrive soon. Colleen.'”

I heard gasps all over the room. Binky could barely get the words out. “The Ark Case?!! I thought that was a...myth!!”

“Me too,” whispered Captain Yips.

“And me,” said Shea and (Newbie)Anglican at the same time.

“Oh my...oh my God. You...were involved...in the...Ark Case?” stammered Shaidle.

Everyone in the room stared at me in stunned silence. Nicky sat down next to me, touched me on the arm and said softly, “Sweetie? Are you okay?”

I looked at Nicky and then at them all. “It was a long time ago…”

I should have; I wasn’t hung over as I walked down Lockwood Avenue to my borrowed office that morning, I’d paid the rent on my one-room apartment, always an occasion for celebration, and I’d actually gotten a credit card payment in on time. Not that it made much of a dent in a bill I’d probably never repay.

At the office, I glanced through the mail. All of the bills were first notices, basically free money in my world back then. My liquor cabinet had just been restocked with my usual cheap booze. So that day started out way too well.

There was a knock on the door. “Come in!” I shouted.

A tall, muscular, boyishly-handsome man entered and flashed his badge. “Mr. Johnson? I’m Special Agent Allen Lewis, FBI. We understand that you investigate church-related matters?”

Where have I heard that name, I thought. “That’s what it says on that cardboard sign on the door, Special Agent Allen Lewis, FBI. Have a seat. What can I do for you?”

“We’d like to engage your expertise. We’re prepared to pay you $2,000 in advance and $1,000 a day plus expenses.” Lewis slid a check across the desk to me. I whistled; whatever this was, they wanted me badly. “But we want to you work with one of our agents.”

“No problem. Who’s it going to be? You?”

“Actually, you’ll be working with someone else. Here she comes now.” A woman entered my office. “Mr. Johnson, I’d like you to meet my wife Colleen.”

No. Oh merciful Lord NO, I thought, as a large invisible knife slowly eviscerated me. Of all the Christian private investigator offices in all the towns in all the world, she has to walk into mine.

It had been almost a year since Nicky left me and a little less than a month after she got married. Shortly after I sobered up, a local FBI agent named Colleen dropped by my office one morning with a minor problem that she thought was huge.

The poor kid was crying as she related it to me. She was terrified that her Christology was becoming too derivative of Paul Tillich. I made a few phone calls; didn’t even charge her.

She was lonely and I guess I felt sorry for her. Her fiancé Allen Lewis, the one great love of her life, had gone undercover to investigate allegations about the United Church of Christ and didn’t come up. Later on, Colleen’s bosses told her that Lewis had died in the line of duty. They showed her the death certificate and arranged a spectacular funeral.

After that, Colleen transferred out of the New York office where she had been working to St. Louis. She wanted to get away from her memories. So she started hanging around my office. Then we started having breakfasts, lunches and/or dinners together. Then we’d catch a movie now and then. Next thing you know...

Colleen wasn’t Nicky’s equal in looks but that’s kind of like saying Mozart wasn’t as good as Bach. She had legs that could make men cry, a face and body that said, “Don’t even think about it, slick,” and a rear end that you couldn’t shake no matter how much cheap bourbon you poured into yourself. Believe me. Colleen also had a ferocious intelligence and wouldn’t take crap from anybody. I was hopelessly in love.

Maybe deep down I never really believed that Nicky and I could make it and I unconsciously expected her to dump me at some point. But Colleen was different, Colleen was possible, Colleen made me feel that just maybe I wasn’t going to drink myself to death all alone.

She was the sort of woman you’d quit drinking for. In fact, I was planning on pouring out all my booze the very morning I arrived at the office, walked in the door and saw the letter on the floor.

Colleen’s hand was trembling when she wrote my name on the envelope so I knew what the letter said before I read it. Lewis was not dead after all; his death had been faked to aid the investigation. And now that the investigation was over, he had resurfaced, she still loved him and she was sorry to have to do it this way but she couldn’t bear the thought of hurting me to my face.

In my reasonable, sober moments, I didn’t blame her. I would have done the same thing. But the rest of the time, for some reason, this one hurt far more than Nicky and my resulting bender was longer, deeper and nastier.

Now Colleen was back so I poured myself a stiff bourbon. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Johnson,” she said evenly.

“Likewise,” I quietly replied.

Lewis knew. You don’t get where he is in the FBI without being able to read people. But he did his best Victor Laszlo impersonation and began his story. “We recently intercepted a coded e-mail sent to ECUSA a week ago that greatly concerns us,” he said. Lewis handed me a piece of paper and I read the following:

Found Peter C. manuscript. Have Sasha’s notes. Ark in US, TWS. Stool? Alexander? Advise. Wilkins

“Do you know what any of that means?” Lewis asked me.

I handed back the paper and began pacing around the room, sipping my drink and avoiding making eye contact with Colleen. “TWS is probably Trinity-Wall Street, the only Episcopal church that could have financed this sort of operation.

“Wilkins is John Wilkins. Renegade historian and archaeologist. Absolutely brilliant and way smarter than you. He’s also an Episcopal priest so I assume he’s working for ECUSA.”

“Who’s Sasha?”

“Probably the greatest genius the world has ever known. International grandmaster of chess at the age of 12. After no defeats or draws and a world title or two, he gave up competitive chess by 17 because he was bored. He took up both shogi, Japanese chess, and go and attained the highest ranking ever recorded in those two much harder games.

“He’s a neurosurgeon, oncologist, molecular biologist, mathmetician and physicist, among other things. Sasha’s Theory of Relativity has supplanted Einstein’s and some of his other theories and discoveries about the universe will completely reshape physics, cosmology and pretty much all higher mathematics.

“And he’s got an artistic side. His expertise and taste in all aspects of chanoyu, the Japanese tea ceremony, have caused many in Japan to compare him to Sen No Rikyu, his setting of the Liturgy of St. John Chrysostom is so terrifyingly beautiful that it’s believed to be the reason why the Russian Orthodox Church is growing by leaps and bounds these days and his epic novel Polovtsy blows away anything Tolstoy ever wrote.

“Sasha’s also an archaeologist which is where the Ark comes in. He’s rewritten the history of late Bronze Age Greece and his recent decipherment of Linear A has been called one of the five greatest intellectual achievements of the last 500 years. Basically, you name it and Sasha can kick your ass at it. The Ark is his passion.”

“What ark? Noah’s Ark?”

“No. The Ark of the Covenant.”

Allen and Colleen looked at each other. “Is Sasha searching for it?” asked Lewis. “I thought the Ark was lost well over 2,000 years ago.”

“You thought wrong.” I refreshed my bourbon, sat down at my desk and put my feet up. “Our story begins in Israel. In the late 1100’s, a Cistercian monk named Peter of Champagne wrote an account of a pilgrimage he’d made to the Holy Land. It was thought to be just a story for the spiritual edification of Peter’s brother monks. Sasha believed it to be fact.”

“Peter of Champagne? Peter C.? As in the Peter C. manuscript?”

“That’s the guy. Sasha owns the original. I found an English translation on the bargain rack at Barnes & Noble which is how I know this story.”

“Around the year 1160, which is a very rough approximation, Peter is returning to Jerusalem with five Knights Templar, five Knights Hospitaller and various squires and servants. They’re somewhere southwest of Jerusalem and looking for a safe place to spend the night.

“One of them notices a cave rather high up in the mountains. After determining that it does not contain any infidels, the party climbs up to it. It’s easily defensible against infidel attackers but there is a problem. It’s not large enough for everyone to fit inside.

“There’s a pile of heavy rocks in the back of the cave. So the squires, servants and a few of the knights set to work removing them to try to make more room. They don’t have to remove too many of them before they discover something strange. A wall. It was definitely man-made but whoever made it tried to make it look natural.

“One of the knights calls for a hammer, swings it at the wall and easily knocks a hole in it. Now the entire party sets to work removing that wall. They get most of it cleared away, Peter of Champagne lights a torch and they see chests of gold and silver ingots strewn about. And in the very back of the cave on a stone platform sits...”

“The Ark of the Covenant,” whispered Colleen.

“The earthly throne of the living God. Peter speculates that one of the sieges of Jerusalem described in the Bible was deemed to be sufficiently serious so that the furnishings of the Temple needed to be hidden to keep them safe. Most were returned. But perhaps those who hid the Ark died during the siege and, as a result, it was lost.

“The knights don’t know what to do. Some want to take it to Jerusalem and then take it into battle against the Muslims. Peter cautions against this. After all, he reminds the party, the Israelites had had the Ark taken from them once in battle. And if the Ark were to fall in to the hands of the Muslims, the Christian religion might not be able to stand against Islam anywhere.

“So Peter recommends taking it to Europe at once. But where? Some say Rome, others Paris, others Constantinople and others Moscow. But Peter was a member of the princely family of Champagne. Actually he was Compte de Champagne briefly, before he renounced all his claims to that county in favor of his younger brother and entered a monastery.

“Peter knows the princes of Europe; he was one before he decided to serve the greatest of Kings. He fears that if the Ark was brought to continental Europe and its existence was made known, it would spark constant wars by princes eager to possess its power.”

“Like the One Ring,” said Colleen.

“Exactly.  It would impossible for anyone to resist and too much innocent blood would be shed by those trying to obtain it. So Peter suggests taking it to a place where any attempt to steal it would require great effort. England.

“All the knights agree. The entire party leaves at once, takes ship for Europe and brings the Ark to London. Then and there, the ten knights, their squires and their servants are, for all intents and purposes, formed into a new order, one specifically designed to protect the Ark.

“Peter writes them a rule based on the Cistercian. And then Peter of Champagne makes a fatal mistake. He writes the Pope and asks him to confirm it.”

“And the word gets out,” said Allen.

“Some of the medieval Popes became obsessed with the Ark. One of them ordered the ten knights to return to their original orders and turn the Ark over to him. The English king refused to allow the Ark to leave England, the knights were made vassals of the King of England, received lands from him and Peter’s order was turned into the first Christian secret society.

“It was called the Order of the Mercy Seat. New members were added from time to time, each sworn to absolute secrecy. And it’s allegedly still around. Its sign is a sword with the blade down, representing the Cross and the knight’s willingness to protect the Ark, and two kneeling cherubim on either side of it.

“The Ark was the real reason for the bitter rivalry between the Templars and Hospitallers as each accused the other of keeping the Ark for itself. It was one of the reasons the Templars were eventually suppressed. And do you know why there’s a Church of England today, Mr. Lewis?”

“Because Henry VIII wanted a divorce and the Pope wouldn’t give it to him?” Lewis replied.

“Wrong. Henry could have had his divorce any time he wanted it. All he had to do was turn over the Ark. But some of Henry’s advisers counseled him that as bad as his situation was, it could get much worse if he allowed God’s throne to leave England. Hence the break with Rome.

“Henry told the Order to hide the Ark and not tell anyone, even Henry, where they had hidden it. From that time to this, the Order has been legally and practically outside the Church of England. And at his or her coronation, each sucessive British sovereign is secretly told that the Ark is in Britain but is not told where. The Ark was the real reason for the Spanish Armada.

“Oliver Cromwell is supposed to have had a vision involving the Ark. He supposedly saw the Jews returning to England, England steadily growing in influence, England’s child, the United States, growing to become the most powerful country the world has ever known, the English language and English institutions spreading all over the world and the return of the Jews to Israel. And all because of the Ark of the Covenant.”

“Now ECUSA has the Ark,” said Lewis. “And if ECUSA has the Ark and God approves of their having the Ark, it will become…”

“Invincible,” Colleen shakily whispered. “No one will be able to stand against them.”

I sipped my drink and commented, “And if ECUSA is unworthy of the Ark...”

“We have to get the Ark back,” whispered Lewis. “We have to get it back.”

“We’ll start in two days,” I said.

“Two days?! We need to start right now!”

“It’ll take at least that long for you to subpoena and analyze the security tapes from Trinity-Wall Street and the buildings around it.”

Allen nodded and he and Colleen got up to leave. At the door, Lewis said to Colleen, “Just a couple more things, babe. I’ll meet you in the car.” Colleen noticed I was watching so her hurried kiss was awkward. Then she quickly turned and left.

Lewis sat down. “I need to know something, Mr. Johnson.”

“Shoot.”

“How long have you known this story?”

“A year, give or take.”

“Have you…ever…seen the Ark?”

“No. Never wanted to. Probably wouldn’t be a very good idea anyway.”

“Good Lord, why not?! If I ever had a chance to...I mean, this is the...throne of...of...God.”

“Look around you. The only reason I use this office is that a friend lets me use it for free. I take a major financial hit every time I wake up in the morning. And when your day is over, you have a beautiful wife who loves you to go home to.

“When my day’s over, I get to go home to this,” I said, holding up a bottle of OJC bourbon. “Every now and then, I’ll see a funeral procession drive by and think, you lucky bastard. Right about now, faith-wise, I’m at a quarter of a mustard seed and dropping like a brick. Now can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You do know that your wife is a very beautiful woman, don’t you?”

“More than you realize. The thought of seeing Colleen again kept me going all that time I had to stay undercover. Stay dead. And not just because she’s physically attractive. She’s more beautiful in more ways than you can possibly imagine.”

“While you were 'dead,' did you ever consider the possibility that maybe you wouldn’t see her again? That she’d fall in love with someone else and move on?”

“Certainly. I know how life works, Mr. Johnson, and I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had. It wasn’t a pleasant thought but I made myself face the possibility and live with it.”

“So you also know that in the normal course of human interaction, things sometimes…happen?”

Lewis wouldn’t take the bait. “I’m well aware of that. But I trust Colleen. That’s pretty much all I can do.” He got up to leave. “Where’s a good place to have breakfast around here? Colleen and I are starving.”

“Elkanah’s, two blocks east on the left.”

“Any recommendations?”

“Try the Clown Celebrant.”

“What’s that?”

“Two scrambled eggs, fried potatoes, ham, regular, pepper and Canadian bacon, Spam, three kinds of sausage and five kinds of cheese, topped off with sour cream and salsa.”

“Basically a heart attack on a plate.”

“Pretty much. The perfect breakfast.”

“Looking forward to it. Thanks a lot.” Lewis left my office. I tried to get some work done but quickly gave up. It was no use; nothing would get done today.

I wasn’t over Colleen. I wasn’t over her at all. So I poured myself another bourbon, slid Tannhäuser into my CD player, found “Hymn to the Evening Star” and played it over and over.

On the day that someone you passionately love marries someone else, that’s what’s running through your head whether you’ve ever heard Tannhäuser or not. Wagner may have been a son of a bitch but he could bring the heat every now and then.

I sat behind my desk, sipped my bourbon and stared at nothing in particular. “Damn,” I whispered as the tears welled up. “Damn!”

Next week: The Quest Begins

Posted on 1/17/2008 10:16:12 PM , 20 comments