Only the Future is History

by Rich Lewis

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CHAPTER 8

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     I awakened to a sunny day, feeling somewhat refreshed. Since arriving in Paris I'd had the time to slow down the pace I had been moving at, and catch up on some rest. The time had also allowed the welt on my neck to turn into only a slight bruise, and my fingers began healing. The events of the past few days seemed almost a dream now. Always I tried to block out the fact that I had killed a man. I tried to rationalize that it had been either him or me, but I still had trouble dealing with the fact that what I was working on was worth someone's life. I had to face facts. Six people had already died because of what I was doing. I prayed there would be no more.

     The first thing I wanted to do was eat breakfast, but I was completely tapped out. I had spent everything I had, and the money Jamieson had given me to reach Paris, and get a hotel. I knew the first thing I had better do was try to make contact with the person whose name Mellor had given me. There was no way I could survive this by myself. I had to have help.

     Looking through the Paris directory, I found the man I was looking for, Charles Lind. I knew nothing of him, except that he worked with or for Mellor. I really didn't know if I could trust either of them, but I had little choice. There was no one else to turn too.

     Making the call, it took several rings before a voice answered in French. Great, I thought, one more problem I could not overcome.

     "Ah, hello," I said, hoping the voice knew how to speak English. "Do you speak English?"

    "Oui, monsieur," said the voice, "I speak English."

    "I'm trying to reach Charles Lind."

    "You have found him monsieur, how can I be of service."

    "We have a mutual friend in New York," I said, not wanting to identify Mellor or myself by name over the phone. The voice on the other end paused for a moment before saying anything.

      "Tell me monsieur, in what restaurant in New York did this friend of mine and yours meet at."

      "The Cafe de Paris," I said. How clever. Just like a bad spy movie. Give the password and the door opens up for you.

      "Oui, I know of it. He told me to expect your call. How can I be of service?"

      With as little detail as possible, I explained my situation, that I was at a hotel, without money, nowhere to go, and I needed to get out of France. He paused for a moment, and I could hear a muffled conversation as he spoke with someone near his end of the phone. The voice came back on.

      "Oui monsieur, I will help you, but I cannot come today. You will have to wait until tomorrow morning."

     "I can't," I said, beginning to lose my temper. I was not in the mood to play spy games, and besides, I didn't have any money. I told him as much.

     "I understand monsieur. An envelope will be dropped off at the desk for you within the hour. I will call you tomorrow morning, and we will get together. Tell me, where are you planning on visiting next."

   "Crete," I said.

   "Very well, I will call in the morning. Do not worry, you are safe for the moment."

     The voice ended, and Charles Lind hung up the phone. I did not feel real comfortable with his reassurance of my safety, or giving away part of my future itinerary. I had thought the same thing before, in London. I hung up the phone, and went and took a shower. I did not like the idea of having to wait an additional day for this stranger to contact me, or staying in this hotel. I decided I would just have to make the best of the situation.

     After waiting an hour since the phone call, I went down to the desk to see if anything had been left for me. The desk clerk was very polite, and handed me an envelope. I told him that I would be staying one more night, and would come down later to settle up the bill. He smiled, saying that would be fine.

     Returning to my room, I opened the envelope. It contained over four hundred franks, and a bus pass. Thanks, I thought to myself. I imagined Lind would call in the morning and instruct me on when and where to use it. I placed the money and the pass in my wallet, and headed back downstairs. Stopping at the desk, I paid for the room for a second night, and set off to find somewhere to get some food.

       After a quiet breakfast, which I ate heartily, I took a walk around the area. There were a number of small shops, and stores, but this was only the outlying area of the business district. At one store I was able to buy a new shirt and pants. Since I had left London in such a hurry, I did not have any clothes. Still fearing that my location would be discovered if I tried to tap into my bank account in New York, I decided to make due with what I could buy with the money Lind had sent. I would get more money right before I left France, and buy clothes along the way. I then stopped in a small grocery store and bought a few things to get me through the day. I thought the less people saw me, and the less I was out of my room, the less the chance of someone discovering where I was. For some reason I just felt safer within the confines of my room.

     Returning to my room, I again tried the television. They were playing an old American sitcom, all dubbed over in French. It didn't matter. I had seen the show many times, and knew what they were saying. After watching for a little while, I turned off the set, and went back to reading through Jamieson's notes. I wanted to get all the information about the archeology site in Crete in my head before I got there so I read them again. I knew once I did arrive, I would not have a lot of time to look around.

     Finishing Jamieson's notes, I laid out all the information I had in front of me on the bed. I still had no clue as to my next step besides going to Crete. Somewhere in all the information I had, there had to be a key to unlock the mystery. I had to find whatever it was I had stumbled unto, and why it was so important I had to find it. Staring at the photocopies I began to drift a little bit in my thoughts.

      More than anything right now, I felt very alone. It was amazing how I could be in a city like Paris, and feel like I was stranded on a deserted island. I would have liked to sit in the same room with Carolyn, and try and discuss things with her. I don't know why, but I had never realized how much she had helped me organize my thoughts. I also realized I also just missed her company. Then there was the city. I was on a whirlwind tour, places I had always wished to visit. This trip wasn’t quite what I’d imagined.

     Shaking off the gloomy mood I was in, I went back to the papers on the bed. Somewhere there had to be something to help me. I stopped and thought for a moment. The whole basis for this project had been to find a way to decipher the Linear A language, something that I had not thought of in a few days. The answer to the importance of this information had to lie in that area. So far I had forty-five symbols, or letters. I was pretty sure the symbols were the alphabet of the ancient Minoans, and there had to be a way to decipher them. I was puzzled though. The computer techs at the Institute had all of the symbols, so why hadn't they been able to decipher it. I thought for a moment. Because it wasn't all there. That could be the only reason. There were still gaps, still symbols missing. I would just have to find them.

     I looked through the papers, and came to the picture of the cliff drawing in New Mexico, and the photocopy of the Tibet cave drawing. I reached down and picked up the piece of paper that I had drawn out the Tibet symbols from the archives in London. Laying the three items directly in front of me on the bed, I stared at them.

     I don't know how long I sat there staring at them, but I was very startled when the phone rang. I let it ring again as I tried to get my heart to slow down. I turned to reach for the phone, and then paused. Lind said he would not call until tomorrow morning, so who would this be? I wondered whether or not I should answer. Finally I decided that I had better. Perhaps Lind had changed his plans. I was quite surprised when I answered.

     "Hello," I said, waiting to hear who it was.

     "Hello old buddy," said the voice, "guess who this is?"

The question was not really a question, but a statement. It was Jack Mellor. 

     "I can guess," I answered, "but I don't know if I'd consider us old buddies."

    "Yeah, thought you'd say something like that. How are you doing?"

    "Just great," I said sarcastically. "If you only knew what I've been through."

    "Oh I know old buddy. I'm in London right now. Just chatting with a friend of yours. He said not to forget you owe him some money."

     So Mellor had made contact with Jamieson. I guess he did know what I'd been through. It was too bad he was always one step behind me, instead of here helping me. For the moment that meant the bad guys too. I didn't say anything, just waiting for Mellor to continue.

      "Found that suitcase you forgot. Your frenchy pal will get it to you when you visit. Anything else you need."

      "Yeah, how about a full time bodyguard."

     Mellor chuckled for a moment on the other end. I sat on the bed thinking for a moment. I was glad I would get my suitcase and clothes back. I had not, however, been joking to him about having a bodyguard.

    "I could use some cash," I replied. "I'm getting kind of low, and I can't really get to mine."

     "Yeah, that could be a problem. I'll see to it. Anything else?" 

     "Yes," I said, something else just coming to mind. "Did you get that present I sent you yet.”? I didn't know if the computer disks had reached him yet.

    "No, not yet," he said puzzled, "to which address did you send it?"

     "I sent it to those friends of yours who served us lunch the other day."

     I could hear his tone brighten, as he understood. "Don't worry, that was a good move. I'll get it."

     "Good, that's about it."

     "Okay, if you need anything, your frenchy pal should be able to get it for you. Gotta go." He paused for a moment. "Hang in there kid." Kid. Who was he calling a kid? I might be new at this cloak and dagger business but I was not a kid.

      The line went dead as Mellor hung up. I slowly replaced the receiver, and cursed myself for not asking about Carolyn. I would remember to leave a message to that effect with Lind. I wanted to make sure she was out of danger. It amazed me that Mellor, and whoever was behind him offered very little in the way of physical help. Actually, the only help I had received from them was the money from Lind. I likened myself to the old C.I.A. man. If I was successful, they would embrace  me with open arms, but if I failed, they would deny any knowledge that I had existed. It did not make me feel very well.

      After snacking on some crackers that I had bought at the store, I sat back on the bed and resumed looking at the three pieces of paper. Of the forty-five symbols, eleven of them appeared in the two drawings. I looked at the pictures, and centered in on the New Mexico cliff drawing. Picking it up to look at it closer, I laid back against the wall.

     Suddenly, I bolted upright. How could I have been so stupid? I grabbed the picture of the Tibet drawing and looked at it. Yes, it was possible. It was so simple that it had eluded me for the past three weeks. I had been looking at the answer all along.

     I had spent the last three weeks examining the known Linear A symbols from the two cave drawings. What I had simply overlooked were the other symbols of the drawings. Instead of looking at the three or four symbols known to be Linear A, mixed in with the Tibet and New Mexico drawings, I looked at them from a different angle. What if the other symbols in the drawings, known to be a part of each respective culture, were also part of the Linear A language. I counted out the unknown symbols in both pictures. There were twenty-three other symbols. What if they too, were part of the Linear A language.

    Upon further study, the symbols were similar to the already known Linear A symbols. The small differences could be attributed to the influence of the Anasasi Indians, and the Tibetans.  It seemed very possible. That now brought the total to sixty-eight symbols. It was getting to be quite a large alphabet. Maybe that was why someone was so set on getting me, and all the materials I had. I already had the information I needed.

     My next step was to somehow get the other symbols to one of the computer techs in New York, yet how could I do it? Getting it there would be no problem, thanks to the development of the fax machine. I could send it just as I was to leave for Crete, and be gone before they found out where it came from. But who was going to get it. If I sent it to the Institute, it would get buried with the rest of the information from the project. There was no way it would slip through to Carolyn unnoticed. Even if it did, I would be endangering Carolyn, something I was constantly striving not to do. I still assumed Erickson had closed down the project indefinitely, and was some how connected to those who pursued me. I could not take the chance.

     There was only one way to do it. I had to find some other computer operator, who could get access to the programs needed to decipher Linear A. Almost any computer operator in an archeology department would have access, but they would be watching there for any sign of me. There was only one other group that would have such a program for deciphering things, the military.

     I felt exhilarated about the theory I had just formed, and was almost positive it was correct. Why else would my pursuers be chasing me so diligently? If I did not have everything I needed to decipher the alphabet, there would not be any use in chasing me. They'd just let me go until I had everything, then come after me before I could do anything with it. That explained why they had just run me off the road in New York. At that time I had not made the New Mexico connection, and didn't have all the pieces. Once I did have them all, the killing had begun. What could be so threatening in the translations of the stone tablets that warranted killing people?

     From every angle I could think of, the theory fit. I now had to get the information to someone who could do something with it, and see if my theory was actually right. I did know a name. When I had been at college with Gary Nelson, he'd had a friend in the R.O.T.C., named Greg Poole. When we graduated, Poole was put on active duty, and Gary had mentioned he was working as a computer jockey in military intelligence. Okay, I knew someone to go to, now how to get him to believe me, and do what I wanted. I didn’t even know if Poole would remember me.

      Every plan I had depended on Lind. He would have to get me out of France, and help me get the information to Poole, if I could persuade him to help. Even though I thought I had all the answers, there was still one more stop I wanted to make. I still wanted to see exactly what was on Crete.

        *          *          *             *

     I was up early the next morning, waiting for Lind's call. Sitting by the phone, I tried to figure out exactly what day it was. I had come to France on Sunday, so it was now already Tuesday, almost two full weeks had gone by since the initial discovery had been made with the Tibet cave drawing. I don't know why I was that concerned about what day it was. I really did not expect that I had a job to return to, especially since the New York police were waiting for me.  Along with my call to Poole, getting money, and finding out how Carolyn was, I added a fourth thing to my list. I wanted to know exactly what my status was in New York, both with the institute, and the New York police department.

     About nine o'clock, Charles Lind finally called. I had already packed up my belongings, and had been waiting for two hours in anticipation of his call. I knew I had to get out of this hotel room, both because staying in one place for very long was dangerous, and I was going stir crazy. I wanted to get moving.

     Lind told me to walk out of the hotel, and head east, where I would catch the bus. I was to ride to the Eiffel tower, and he would pick me up there. I took it for granted that he knew how to identify me. Looking around as I left the hotel, and rode the bus, I imagined that Lind had people following me, making sure I was alone. I supposed anyone in this business had to take elaborate steps to protect themselves, or they did not stay in business very long.

     I arrived at the Eiffel tower, and followed the tourist gathering around for a few moments, waiting for contact to be made. It only took a couple of minutes. A soft hand appeared on my shoulder and a soft voice called me.

     "Mr. Scott, follow me," she said. I never really got a good look at the woman, as she had come up behind me, and left in that direction. Through the small crowd I walked, trying not to lose her. We rounded a corner, and a car was waiting there. The women kept on walking past the car and up the street. I hesitated for a moment upon seeing the car, with the door already open.

     "Get in Mr. Scott," the voice called. I recognized the voice from the phone. It was Charles Lind. I slid into the seat, and the car quickly pulled away from the curb. For several minutes he watched his rearview mirror, and said nothing. He continued to drive for another five minutes, preoccupied with watching for a tail. This was almost the exact way Jack Mellor and I had spent our first minutes together.

     "I am sorry for being so rude, monsieur Scott, but I must be very careful. The people who look for you already know of me. It is a constant game of hide and seek, that is why I could not meet with you yesterday."

    "That's alright," I said, "its just nice having someone helping me for a change."

     "I will do what I can for you monsieur. If you will open the glove box, you will find an envelope with money in it. There is a little of everything there."

     He continued to drive as I open the glove box and retrieved the envelope. Inside there was quite an assortment of money, and a lot of it. About half was Greek currency, and an eighth of American, Italian, and French money each. Overall there was close to five thousand American dollars. I thought to myself at least these so called friends of mine had a few resources. I just wondered when I would have to pay it all back?

     "There's quite a bit of money here. Who am I suppose to return it too?," I asked.

     Charles Lind smiled, and then glanced over to me. "For ten years I have worked like this. Never has anyone been concerned with returning the money." He chuckled softly again. "Do not be concerned about it. I have an account for just such occasions as this, and it is not my money."

     "Where does it come from?"

     "I do not know, it just is there. Your friend Mr. Mellor set it up a long time ago."

     Lind was quite again as we drove towards the outskirts of Paris. The countryside was rather refreshing after being in the hotel for the last day, and I enjoyed the ride. Lind glanced at me again, then spoke.

     "Your suitcase is in the trunk of the car, compliments of Mr. Mellor. You have the money. What else do you need?"

     I was glad to have my clothes again, as I would not have to waste time in purchasing new ones now. As we continued to drive I explained that I needed a fax machine, and and some time to make a couple of phone calls. I also explained that I would need to do this right before I left the country. Finally, I needed to get to Crete.

     "We can arrange everything. I have a friend with a small business and a fax machine. He can send the material. The phone is no problem. We are going to a small cottage up the road a few more miles, and you can use that phone when the time comes."

    "Good, good," I said. "Now how about my getting to Crete."

     "It would be best if you flew to Rome first from here. They are all major flights, with many people on board. It will make it harder to find you for them. In Rome you can get a ticket to Athens and Crete. Here they will be watching those flights for you."

     I sat in silence as we pulled up to the cottage. Again I had not taken the time to think about what I needed to do. That whoever would be following me would be watching flights to Greece had never occurred to me, but it should have. It also came to mind that they would probably be watching for me when those flights landed. I would have to think of something. One step ahead. That was how I had to start thinking if I wanted to stay alive. I had to plan every step before I took it.

     I spent another day at the cottage, resting, and getting the information I wanted to send organized. My neck was almost completely healed and my fingers, though still bruised and discolored, were feeling much better. I still did not know if Greg Poole would help me, but I did not have many options. I made a second copy of what I was sending to give to Lind, who I hoped would be able to pass it on to Mellor. Charles Lind rarely spoke when he was at the cottage, and came and went several times. The next morning he awoke me very early and told me to dress. It was time to go.

     My flight to Rome would leave at nine a.m. I would make the phone calls I needed to make at eight, and the materials I wanted sent would be sent right after my flight left, in the attempt to further confuse my pursuers. I looked at the clock as I dressed. It was only six a.m.

      When I came into the kitchen Lind had made a small breakfast for the two of us. I sat down and we quietly ate  everything he had laid out. Afterwards I went to the room and packed all my belongings. Returning to the kitchen, where Lind was finishing a cup of coffee, I handed him the material to be faxed.

     "I'm not sure who it will go to yet. I'll know for sure after I make the phone calls. The second copy is for Mellor."

     "I understand, monsieur Scott. I will see that he gets it."

     It was about seven a.m., so we sat and made small talk about the weather, and the condition of the drought in the western United States. Lind had visited there two summers ago, and said the dry conditions and forest fires were the brightest memory he' had of the area. At eight he told me to place my calls.

     Back in the United States, it would now be one o'clock. I didn’t know if Greg Poole would be at home, but thought I’d take a chance. It would be almost impossible to talk freely with him if he was at work. After several operators, I finally reached one in Washington D.C., where Poole lived, and she connected me to his house. The phone rang several times, and Greg Poole answered the phone.

     "Hello," he said.

     "Is this Greg Poole, formerly of the University of Pennsylvania?," I asked.

    "Yes, this is that Greg Poole."

     "I don't know if you remember me, but my name is Jarrett Scott, I met you through a mutual friend, Gary Nelson."

     "Yeah, sure, I remember you. You the archeologist. How goes it?"

     "Not well I'm afraid. I'm calling to see if I can enlist your help. You heard about Gary?"

     "Yeah, I heard. It was in the papers here too. I’m going to the funeral tomorrow. I wish I had five seconds with the bastard who did it." There was a momentary pause as I tried to figure out where to go next.

     "Look Greg, I know why Gary was killed. He was working on a project with me, helping me out."

     "Helping you out. What the hell does an archeologist do that gets people killed?"

     As quickly as possible I tried to explain what I was doing, and what had been happening. Greg was skeptical to say the very least, and here I was pulling in anther person who could help or hurt me, or get hurt. I had called as a friend, and now I was going way overboard in asking for a favor, a very large one at that one that could get him into very serious trouble should he be found out. He really did not have any reason to help me. I told him everything as quickly as possible, and waited for his reply.

      "I don't know Jarrett. This doesn't make a lot of sense. I still don't see why people are getting killed over this."

      "Look Greg," I replied, "I don't know either, but they are. The only way to find out why people are getting killed is to find out what these tablets and pictures say. I need help. If you don't want to, I understand, but I have to find out what this is all about, and I don't have much time. I owe Gary this much, to find the truth."

     I really did not like resorting to guilt, and the attempt to make a martyr out of Gary, but I didn’t have a choice. The number of people I knew with access to the kind of computer that was required for this was very limited. If I did not get Poole to help, I would have to try and trust someone at the Institute, and that would mean involving Carolyn, something I did not want to do, even though that was totally selfish..

     "Okay," he said, pausing for a moment. "I'll see what I can do. "

     "You can get to a program for this, and have the time to run it?"

     "Yeah, we got all kinds of programs for this kind of stuff. Time's no problem, I'm kind of left all by myself most of the time, to work on whatever they've given me."

    "Okay, I'll get the information to you. I don't think I need to mention I could be putting you in danger."

     "Don't worry about it. I'd like to see the ass that killed Gary. I can get the job done."

      Having Poole convinced to help made me feel a little better about my chances of living through this. I just hoped he would trust me enough to keep this to himself. The whole key lay in deciphering the Linear A, and finding out what those tablets and drawings said.  Poole was someone they would not know about, and they probably would not be able to tap into his computer to see what he was doing. I hoped, anyway, that my enemy wasn't tapped into the military. If they had been, I probably would have quietly disappeared in New Mexico.

      I explained to Poole how I would fax the information. There were several businesses now that did nothing but fax material for people, so I gave him the location of one such place in Washington D.C., and told him when it would be sent. Knowing Poole would not be able to get to it until tonight, or tomorrow morning where he was, I would have Lind send it at a later time. I closed our conversation telling Poole that I would call in a couple days, and see what he had. He told me it would take at least that long to set up the program and get started.

     After finishing my conversation with Greg Poole, it was almost eight-thirty. Lind was telling me to hurry up so we could make my flight. I was irritated that I hadn't started calling a little earlier. I didn’t bother to ask why I’d been fortunate to catch Poole at home. I had really wanted to call Carolyn and see how she was. It was probably for the better that I didn't though. If I called her, and they had taped her phone, it would greatly endanger her.

     Lind and I quickly loaded the car and headed for the airport. On the way out, he had given me his coat, and a hat, saying just a little change in dress would throw them off a bit. "Eyes" he said, "use the hat to shade your eyes. That's how people identify others, by the shape of the face around the eyes." Another lesson for the amateur.

     On the way to the airport Lind gave me a couple of other pointers, and I listened carefully. I was still a rookie at this game, and rookies did not last long in this league. He also handed me a new passport, listing me as a David Webster, from the United States, instructing me to destroy it once I got to Crete. It was very dangerous to use a false passport in Europe, and he told me to only use it to get where I was going. There were always places to purchase another one if I needed it.

      At the airport we quickly shook hands, and he told me to pick up my ticket at Gate seven, under my temporary name. He wished me good luck, and I thanked him for all his help. Picking up my suitcase and briefcase, I headed for the terminal.

      The airport terminal was very crowded this morning. I waded through the many people and as fast as possible made my way to my gate. They had already announced the first boarding call when I reached the gate. It seemed very strange to me requesting my ticket under another name, just as it had when I had gone to New Mexico and London. Once I had my ticket I quickly boarded and found my seat.

       Within a few minutes the plane was taxing to the runway. Once again I began to relax a little, feeling I had put a little more distance between myself and whoever was pursuing me. It had been three whole days since I'd had any kind of contact with them, and the fact that I was eluding them so easily disturbed me. I realized that I'd had a lot of help in doing that, but they were professionals at this, and I was not. Where was the ace they had hidden? The thought I'd had at the cottage returned. What if I had not eluded them, and they were simply waiting in Crete?

     There was little I could do about it right now. I decided to just relax and make the best of the present situation. We landed at Rome, and I quickly exited the plane and headed for the ticket counter. Luckily, there was a flight for Athens within the hour. I bought my ticket, checked in my suitcase, and stopped at a little coffee shop and had some lunch. The one thing I had learned in the last three weeks was to eat and sleep whenever the opportunity presented itself.

     The flight to Athens was quiet, as the plane was not very crowded. When we arrived I picked up my suitcase and headed for the exit. I decided I would get a taxi to a hotel, and would rest there for the night. Luckily no one followed me, something I made very sure of before entering a hotel, and once again I felt I had given them the slip. In the morning I would find a way to get to Crete.

        *             *           *            *

     I awoke the next morning feeling rested. The first thing on my agenda was to find a way to Crete. I decided I would check the tour ships in the area first. I was sure they would be watching the airport for any sign of me. Perhaps if I were to arrive aboard a ship, they would miss seeing me.

     The hotel manager directed me down the street to a travel agency that specialized in Greek Tours. I found out there that there was a ship that would stop in Crete, and it left later in the afternoon. I purchased a ticket, for a small cabin to myself, and returned to the hotel.

     Back at the hotel I stopped to eat breakfast, and returned to my room. I desperately wanted to call New York and talk with Carolyn, but I knew that would be very dangerous. I would just have to wait for Lind to pass my message on to Mellor. Maybe Mellor would contact me at some time in the near future and let me know how things were. He had a habit of popping up when I least expected it.

     After packing my things, I decided I would do a little sight seeing. It would be a sin for an archeologist to visit Athens and not visit the acropolis. I left my suitcase at the desk, telling them I would pick it up in a few hours. As usual I took my briefcase with me. There was no way I was going to take a chance of being separated from it.

     My tour of Athens was very interesting, and for a couple of hours took my mind off my current situation. I had visited here before, but the sights of Athens always held my interest. The acropolis, and other ruins that I visited were unbelievable. I made up my mind that when I had time, I would like to visit Athens again, with Carolyn. I was becoming more infatuated with Carolyn every day. It worried me because I had no idea if Carolyn felt the same about me. Maybe it was just that we had been drawn closer by the events of late, and there really was nothing there. Right at this minute I did not know, but thinking of her helped me to relax, and better cope with everything right now. Maybe after this was all over I would be able to find out if there really was anything between us. For now, she was a way of escape for me, from everything that was happening. Thinking of Carolyn simply made me feel good.

     Around two o'clock I returned to the hotel and picked up my suitcase, and set out for the ship. It was a small cruise liner, and not the most luxurious. The entire passenger list was only around a hundred people, and the ship seemed rather crowded. The ship itself seemed confining to me, especially when we left the harbor. There was no where to go, no where to run. I was on a ship with miles of ocean around me and alone.

We arrive at the island of Crete late that evening and docked at Iraklion. From here it was only 12 miles to the archeology site where Jamieson had been working. I decided to find a hotel, and from the looks of it choices were few, and explore in the morning.

   I found a room, in a small hotel. The desk clerk spoke just enough English for us to get things settled and I was placed for the night. The next step was a scouting excursion for a phone. I could use the one in the hotel, but thought it wiser to find a pay phone somewhere else. I still had the second name Mellor had given me, and I wanted to speak with him while I was here. I knew from Jamieson’s notes that Dr. Tim Roe was still on Crete. An archeologists from the U.S., he was also the same Dr. Roe who had worked with the Scholten’s in New Mexico.

     I also had to get rid of the fake passport. It’s use had come to an end. If detained by anyone, I could better explain my sudden appearance here with a glitch in the government paper trail rather than a fake passport. In this neck of the woods, a fake passport meant terrorist or spy. I surely wanted to be neither.

     Leaving the hotel I headed for the main business district of the town. It was already ten p.m., but the town showed no sign of going to sleep. This was not the tourist season but there were still quite a few party goers on the island. I didn’t mind. People made me feel safer. I wasn’t sure if that was a false security blanket, but I was going to use it. A quick side step into a deserted alley, I set the passport on fire on top of a garbage can lid. It took awhile to get it to burn, or more correctly for a lot of it, to melt. Satisfied nothing could be traced from it, I returned to the street and headed downtown.

     A phone was easily found and I placed a call to the operator. She spoke English, and I got Dr. Roe’s number on the island. Deciding not to waste time, I called him. Hopefully it wasn’t too late for the doctor. The phone rang twice and a gruff voice answered.

    “Yeah,” the voice said, sounding somewhat sleepy.

     “Dr. Roe?, “ I asked.

     “Yeah, this is Roe, who is this?”

       In a quandary again, as I really did not want to give my name over a phone, I tried to take another avenue.

      “Dr. Roe forgive me bothering you. I’m an archeologists visitng Crete, a friend of Dr. Scholten’s.”

     There was a momentary pause. “So what is your name young man? Dr. Scholten had a lot of friends.”

     “I know sir, but I’d really rather not say. I spoke with Dr. Scholten at length about your 1952 project and am in need of some answers.”

     Silence. I waited, for a second wondering if he had hung up. If Dr. Roe had any understanding of past events he could easily assume the trouble brewing on his phone at the moment. I hoped he understood the cloak and dagger routine.

     “I see,” he said. “So tell me about 1952.”

     “About the cliff dwelling, or how you were closed down,” I answered.

     “Never mind, you know enough. There’s a diner frequented by Americans called the Olympiad. Ten a.m.”

     The connection ended. Dr. Roe had given me a chance. I decided not use Mellor’s contact here until the need arose. I didn’t know if I could get out of here on my own yet or if I would need help. I returned to the hotel. Not too many looks. I was sure the locals were used to visitors. It was time to get some rest. After days of sitting, I was sure things were going to pickup again in the morning.