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Only the Future is History

by Rich Lewis

***No portion of this text may be reproduced or copied without the expressed written permission of the author. If you have comment or questions please email the author. You may print a single copy of this novel for your personal enjoyment, which must be destroyed upon completion.***

CHAPTER 3

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     After the escapades of the previous night, I decided Wednesday morning to wait until a little after eight a.m. to leave for work. Driving in, I took comfort with the heavy morning traffic. At least someone would be around to witness the attack should the sedan return. The trip to work this morning was uneventful, a fact I was very grateful for.

     It had been two days since Dave Jenkins' death, and things had somewhat returned to normal at the Institute, if that was totally possible when someone you knew died. When I arrived Carolyn was already hard at work, running down the book from which the photocopies of the cliff dwelling drawings had come. She had already found the book and was searching for any information locating the cliff dwelling itself.

     "So," I began as I settled in to my desk, "have you found the location yet?"

     Not looking up from the book she answered, "Um, not yet. I can't seem to find any details concerning the site."

     "There's no mention anywhere of where the project took place?" I got up and walked over to Carolyn's desk, looking at the book over her shoulder.

    "No. I haven't found any specific information about the location. Probably didn't want a million tourists out there. Just says it was in southwestern Arizona." She sounded somewhat irritated at my constant questions.

     Great, I thought. The site was somewhere in southern Arizona. That narrows it down to about two hundred square miles. Finding it would take a lot more than the three or four days I had coming to me.

     "There is mention of the project coordinator, name is Dr. J. Scholten."

     "Wonderful, now we just have to find out where he is."

     "Well Mr. Scott," she began, getting ready to show me how superior in intellect she was, "how about trying the phone book?"

     "Arizona has more than one phone book," I replied, patronizing her.

     "Yes, but Arizona only has two universities with major archeology departments, doesn't it?"

    "Arizona and Arizona State." I said as I headed for the archive shelves.

     Along with every other conceivable book that was buried in the basement with us was a complete catalogue of all United States phone books. After a quick search I came up with the phone books for Tucson and Tempe, Arizona. Tempe drew a blank, no Scholten. Thumbing through the pages of the Tucson book I arrived at what I wanted. This time, Carolyn was peering over my shoulder.

     "Get something to write this down," I said as I read off the listing to her. "Jerry Scholten, 2314 Windsor Avenue."

    "So what now?” she asked, handing me the piece of paper with address and phone number.

    "I guess we give Dr. Scholten a call, just to make sure this is him."

    "Great, let's do it."

    I paused for a second. "No, better wait till lunch and call from somewhere else. Paulson will get pretty steamed if he finds out we're up to no good."

    I did not bother to elaborate about last night’s activity on the freeway, or some of my other conclusions. The less Carolyn knew, the less trouble she would be in. Right now I was pretty worried for the both of us.

     "Speaking of Paulson," she said, interrupting my thoughts, "you better see him if you want the rest of the week off."

     "Yeah, I suppose you're right," I replied, stuffing Scholten’s number into my pocket. "Think I'll go take care of that right now." I knew it would be short notice to ask for time off, but figured with the temporary halt to the project and recent events Paulson would probably grant my request.

     I replaced the phone book and headed for the hall and the elevator, calling over my shoulder back to Carolyn. "You better get started on that new assignment they sent down Miss Williams." I did not have to look back to see the sour look on her face. I had seen it before.

     As I entered the elevator I could hear her grumbling that once again I was the typical male slave driver, and a few more of her usual comments. I refrained from grinning until the elevator doors had closed, and I was safe from her view. It was rare when I actually got the last word in with Carolyn, and I enjoyed those few, precious times immensely.

      While I rode the elevator up to Paulson's office, I tried to put together a plan of action. After last night, I really did not want anyone knowing what I was up to, so I had to get to Arizona incognito. My first thought was to have Carolyn buy the tickets, but thought that would not help matters any. I wanted to get her out of the picture, not deeper into trouble.

     The doors to the elevator opened and I stepped out heading down the hall for Paulson’s. On the way I remembered an old friend of mine Gary Nelson. We had been on the same floor at college, and he had begun work as a C.P.A. for various businesses around town, one of which was a certain low budget travel agency. He had mentioned one night, when we had visited at a local drinking establishment, that he could get low rates on airfare to almost anywhere. A 'fringe benefit' he called it. I decided I would give Gary a call and see if he could arrange something. Maybe he could get me a flight to Arizona under an assumed name. I was going to take this paranoia to the limit. I figured it would not hurt to call.

     Turning into Paulson's office I was greeted by the ever-smiling secretary Betty. A quick grin lit up my face as I tried to think of her last name, yet came to the conclusion that I had never heard it. No matter what kind of a mood I was in when entering Paulson's office, she quickly brightened it.

     "Good morning Mr. Scott," she said.

     "Morning Betty. I was wondering if I could see Mr. Paulson for a brief moment?"

     "I'm sure he'd be happy to see you in a moment, right now he's speaking with Mr. Erickson."

    I stood there thinking for a moment, wondering if I should come back later when Paulson’s office door opened. Paulson was swearing that he would get right on it. Mr. Erickson stepped out, pausing for a second to look at me, then hurried by with a scowl on his face. I could almost feel the heat from his eyes on me when he passed by, even though his tinted glasses shaded them. I had the feeling I really did not want to see Mr. Paulson at this moment.

     "Come on in Jarrett," Paulson called from the door. "I was just going to call for you."

     Now I was sure that I did not want to be here. I stepped into the office and at Paulson’s request closed the door. Once again he motioned for me to sit down. I noticed that he looked a little better than he had at our last meeting, but was rather agitated. Hearing the tail end of his conversation with Erickson I was sure he was.

      "Do you have the papers from the project you were working on?" he asked.

     "Carolyn's putting them together right now."

     "Good, good. Mr. Erickson wants them by lunch today. He says the police want to look at them." Paulson did not sound convinced that was the real reason Mr. Erickson wanted them, but like me, he had no option but to comply.

     Puzzled I asked, "Why would they want to see them?"

     "I don't know. Mr. Erickson just said they did, so get them up here."

     "Are they still looking into Dave's death?" I asked. I had not heard any news concerning it during the past couple of days and thought maybe Paulson had.

    "Possibly Jarrett," he answered, brushing by the subject. "I don't know. Just get the papers up here as soon as you can." From where I sat Paulson was starting to get a little irritated at my questioning. I decided I had better get to the point of my visit.

    "Mr. Paulson, I would like to take the next few days off. With everything that's happened, I'd kind of like to go visit some family. Take a rest."

    "Great, no problem," he beamed at me. "Just leave a number where you can be reached. You could probably use the rest with everything that's happened lately."

    With that, Paulson sat staring at me, I suppose wondering if I had anything else to say. I stood, said a quick goodbye, promising the project papers by lunch, and headed back for the basement. Paulson had seemed very pleased to be rid of me for a few days. I guess I was the reason for his conflict with Erickson.

     When I returned to my desk, Carolyn was gone. There was a note on a file folder on my desk that she had placed all of her papers from the project in the folder. I opened my briefcase, and put the papers I had, or I should say the ones I did not need into the folder. It was already ten o'clock, so I decided I would just leave a little earlier than lunch. I wrote out a quick note for Carolyn, and headed back upstairs.

     Dropping the folder off with Betty, I explained that I was taking a few days off, and gave her Gary's number in case they wanted to reach me. Hopefully I could talk Gary into covering a little bit for me as well as arranging the flight to Arizona. I was taking Gary for granted but he had always come through for me before even though we had not seen each other a lot recently. With that in mind I decided I would sneak out a little before lunch and begin making my phone calls.

      I stopped at a phone booth and made my calls. If I was going to be paranoid about things, and I thought I now had good reason to after last night, I would not take the chance of calling from home.

     My first call was to Dr. Scholten. He was not home at the time but his wife explained he would be home around five. Confirming that he was the head of the archeology project at the cliff dwellings I asked her if it would be possible for me to visit with him. She assured me that fellow archeologists were always welcome to drop by. I explained that I would phone when I knew of my arrival to Tucson, and she said she would tell Dr. Scholten.

     My next call was to Gary Nelson. After a few friendly exchanges, and catching up on personal news for the last year, I asked for my favor. He replied it would not be a problem getting me on a flight without using my name. He asked me to call back in about an hour, and he would see how soon he could get me on a flight. Things were beginning to click.

     With that settled I decided I had better return home and pack. Arriving at my apartment I checked my mail and my answering machine. Carolyn had called, chewing me out for sneaking out without saying goodbye, and wishing me good hunting. I was beginning to become very fond of Miss Williams and her concerns, especially her concern for my well-being. For a brief moment I contemplated the possibility of a real relationship with Carolyn, but shrugged it off. There were simply too many open ends right now and I imagined Carolyn would probably not be very receptive to such an idea. Although our working relationship was good, I had never thought much more about the two of us. I guessed we both held the feeling anything more between us would jeopardize the working relationship we had.

     Loading a small suitcase into the car, I decided I would stop for some lunch, and call Gary to see how things were going. At a small restaurant I called and he informed me that there was a three-thirty flight for Denver and Tucson today, and he had made the reservation. I just had to report to the counter and a ticket was waiting for Mr. John Smith. How original.

      By the time I had finished lunch it was almost two-fifteen, so I decided I had better start for the airport. I took the long way there, making several quick turns, trying to discover if anyone was following me. Convinced that I was alone, I headed for the airport.

     I parked the car in the airport parking lot and paid the attendant for a week. As I walked back by the car from the parking attendants booth I winced at the damage to the side of the car from the night before. I really had not looked at it too close until now. It would cost plenty to get it repaired. At the moment the car was the least of my worries.

      Once inside the terminal I had no problems getting Mr. Smith's ticket, and headed for the boarding gate. Once on board I decided that it would be wise to get some rest. Feeling somewhat secure among the other passengers I began to relax. When we stopped in Denver I had to switch planes. I called the Scholten residence and informed Mrs. Scholten that it would be late when I got in, so I would call in the morning. She said that would be fine as Dr. Scholten had a light schedule on Friday. I got the impression from my phone calls to Mrs. Scholten that they really did enjoy having company.

     Boarding the plane for the last leg of my flight I caught a short nap, and it seemed like only minutes later when the pilot announced our landing. I really had not given much thought to the events of the last two weeks on the flight, but as I got off the plane and rented a car, I began to. Maybe there was a logical explanation for what had so far been discovered, but I could not come up with one. At the hotel I checked in, watched some television, and went to bed thinking that in the morning I would begin to try and piece together some sort of an explanation.

*         *            *           *

     I awoke early the next morning in anticipation of meeting Dr. Scholten. For the first time in over a week I was feeling pretty good. Thanks to the help of Gary Nelson, and my quiet departure from New York, I was confident I was one step ahead of whoever was trying to stop my research of the Linear C project. At least for a day or so I was safe. I hoped.

     Still, I had no doubts that my safety in Arizona would be short lived. It would not take anyone of means long to run down my location, and I got the impression my pursuers had the means. If someone was really trying to sabotage the Institutes project, I was sure they had the power to push the right buttons. The recent behavior of Paulson and Erickson gave proof of that, not to mention Dave's death. I knew I only had a short time before the heat would once again be on.

     After breakfast in the hotel restaurant I returned to my room and packed up my suitcase, as I had no plans to remain in Tucson after my visit with Dr. Scholten. This finished, I stopped briefly at the reception desk and asked that my room be held, and got some directions to the Scholten's street address. Still a bit confused, I stopped at one of the phone booths in the hall and looked for a Tucson city map in the phone book. I quickly traced my route from the hotel to Windsor Avenue and set out in my rented car.

     The drive over was quite relaxing. Tucson was a good-sized city, yet the pace of the residents of this city was quite a bit slower than that of New York City. I was also impressed with how clean the city itself was. After spending a half an hour acquainting myself with the city, I headed for Dr. Scholten's. It was almost noon and I was anxious to meet him.

      Arriving at the Scholten residence I was impressed by the Spanish architecture and the lush green shrubbery and trees in the yard. It seemed a very plush and expensive home. Parking on the street I headed up to the door and rang the doorbell. I waited for a couple of minutes and rang again when no one had answered.

     The door slowly opened and a smallish lady greeted me, in her early sixties. I took it for granted that this was Mrs. Scholten. She looked rather reluctant to open the door more than a few inches so I introduced myself.

     "Good morning," I began. "My name is Jarrett Scott. I phoned yesterday about visiting with your husband."

     Her look of puzzlement turned to a smile as I spoke, and she slowly opened the door. "Oh," she said, "please, come in." She opened the door and beckoned me to enter. "Dr. Scholten is back in the kitchen. We've been expecting you."

      I stood in the hallway, waiting for her to close the door. She closed it and then headed for the back of the house, motioning for me to follow.

      "So how was your flight Mr. Scott?" she asked. Not waiting for an answer she continued, "I told Dr. Scholten that you had phoned, so he is expecting you. I don't think he's ever turned any of his fellow archeologists away. Jerry," she said towards the back of the hall, "Mr. Scott is here."

      We entered the kitchen, and Dr. Scholten was seated at the kitchen table reading through the Arizona News, their daily newspaper. He dropped the paper and peered over it at me. Folding the paper he placed it on the table and stood, reaching out his hand.

     "Good morning Mr. Scott, "he said, shaking my hand. "My wife told me you had phoned. Must be rather important to warrant a flight all the way from New York."

     "Yes sir," I said. "I wanted to discuss an archeology project you worked on a number of years ago. I'm hopeful that you'll be able to shed some light on a few things."

     Motioning for me to follow he called back to his wife. "Honey, we'll go into the den and have our talk." Turning back to me he asked, "Perhaps Mr. Scott would like some coffee?"

     "No problem Jerry," she answered for me, "I'll bring it in a few minutes."

     Nothing else was said for the moment. Dr. Scholten led me back down the hall I had just come through to his den. It was a small room, with a nice mahogany desk by the only window. A huge bookcase that was very overloaded covered one whole wall. On the wall opposite the window and desk hung various pictures and awards from Dr. Scholten’s previous archeology projects and his teaching at the University of Arizona.

    "Have a seat Mr. Scott," he said, motioning me to a chair opposite his desk. "So, to what do I owe this visit?"

    "Dr. Scholten," I began, "I work for the New York Historical Institute. Recently I began work on a project to decipher the Linear C written language."

    The door to the den opened and Dr. Scholten motioned for me to stop. Mrs. Scholten brought in the coffee, and I thanked her. Quietly she pulled the door closed behind her and left.

     "Mrs. Scholten isn't very interested in my work I'm afraid," Dr., Scholten said. "I tried to get her interested by taking her into the field on a couple of projects, but it just didn't seem to take."

      I smiled at him as I sipped from the coffee mug. He took a big drink from his then set it on the desk. I was anxious to question him and find out what he knew, but sat quietly and as patiently as I could, waiting for Dr. Scholten to speak. He was a rather large man, graying on top, who gave the appearance of being remarkably fit for his age, which was somewhere in the late sixties.

    "Okay Mr. Scott, I'm with you so far. What can I do for you?"

       For the next ten minutes I explained about the new tablet found on Crete, and the renewed interest in deciphering the Linear C language. I decided against mentioning anything about Dave Jenkins death, or the attempt made against me, and gave him all the details I had learned about the symbols. He remained very attentive throughout my description of the last two weeks, and sat pondering the facts for a moment after I had finished.

      "So," he said, "you think one of the symbols from the Linear A language was used by the Anasazi cliff dwellers?"

     "Yes," I answered. "I just need some physical evidence to try and make a believable connection."

     "So that's why you came here." It was more of a statement than a question.

     "Yes," I said again. "There is no listing in the book you co-wrote about the site location. I need to see the area, and the place with the wall drawing."

      "Um", he said as he took another drink of his coffee. "I'm pretty sure I can give you directions on how to get there, but the area is difficult to get to nowadays."

     "Well if it's remote, I'm sure I can rent a helicopter to get there."

     "No, I'm afraid that's almost impossible. You see Mr. Scott, the site now lies on government property, specifically on the Luke Air Force Range, in the Sauceda Mountains and there are very few roads in the area. They don't allow any aircraft to fly over."

     I thought for a moment, and then asked, "Do you have any pictures of the project? Something that would give me another look."

    He got up from the desk and walked to the wall behind me. Pointing to a picture he began.

     "This is Dr. Keith, Dr. Jorgenson, Dr. Roe, and myself in 1952. This is the only picture of any kind I have from the project."

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