Part 16 (1/2)
I pulled it out and pointed to the picture. To the man who apparently knew the precise date he was going to die and didn't seem terribly concerned about it. What if he didn't plan on dying in two days? What if his ”death”--the obituary--was just a cover story, because he had no intention of going anywhere, ever . . .
”What if . . .” I said. ”What if the V and D found a way . . .”
” 'What we are now, you will be,' said the skeleton.” Chance smirked.
”What's this 'we' stuff, white man?” Miles replied.
Chance grinned.
”We lost our immortality when we ate from the Tree of Knowledge--and we've been trying to use knowledge to get it back ever since. Kind of ironic, eh?”
He collapsed back into his chair. It had been a masterful performance, weaving together clues from ancient China to modern New England and everywhere in between. And now he was visibly tired. I, in contrast, was filled with new life, a new sense of opportunity--when only a couple of hours ago, it had seemed like every door was closed to me.
”This,” I said, pointing to the obituary. ”We could use this to get to them.”
Chance and Miles exchanged glances.
”I doubt,” Chance said slowly, ”that the obituary means very much.”
”But the stuff you just told me. Bimini . . .”
Chance shook his head.
”There was nothing there. The Spaniards went to Florida next. Guess where they claimed to find the Fountain of Youth? Green Cove Springs on the Saint Johns River. Know how many old people retire to Florida every year? My grandparents included? How many of them live forever?”
”What about amaranth? You said the Greeks used it to cure diseases.”
”Check out the Journal of Toxicology, March 2003, volume seven,” Miles said. ”They use amaranth as a dye in manufacturing. Turns out it's poisonous. Great way to live forever, huh?”
”Maybe they found another way--”
”Jeremy, do you know about seer's salt?”
”No.”
”Feast of the Blue Boy?”
”No.”
”Samsara? Astral charts? Infinite wave functions? The Uhrgla.s.s?”
”No, no, no, no.”
”Do you know when the V and D formed?”
”No.”
”Do you know where they meet?”
”Do you?”
”Five years ago I found a clue. A margin note in a book we stole. It said the location was in Creighton versus Worley.”
”Those are buildings on campus.”
”Yes.”
”You checked the buildings?”
”Over months. We even went down into the steam tunnels connecting the buildings. Nothing.”
”But the language. Creighton versus Worley. It sounds like a court case.”
”It does.”
”Does the case exist?”
”Yes.”
”You pulled it?”
”We did.”
”And . . .”
”It was a contract dispute. A stupid old case that no one would ever look up.”
”That's suspicious.”
”Everything's suspicious when you want it to be, Jeremy. That's the point. It never ends. I had my math friends go crazy on it. For months. No clues. No hidden codes. It's just a case.”
”Fine.”
”I spent a semester on it. Nothing.”
”I said fine.”
”Jeremy,” Chance said, not unkindly. ”You're showing up late to a game you can't win. I've been pursuing this for seven years. There are people who have tried for as long as the V and D has existed. You're talking to a guy who believes in UFOs, but I can't tell you what these people are really about. Do they have some amazing secret? Maybe. Are they just a bunch of deluded old rich guys desperate to beat the reaper? Could be. Or maybe they're just satisfied ruling the free world. I don't have a clue. Magic or not, bulls.h.i.+t or not, I have discovered one thing. These people take themselves seriously. They have real power. And they don't like being f.u.c.ked with.”
”Why did you waste my time, then?”
”Jeremy,” Miles said gently, ”we told you all this to take the thrill out of it. It doesn't lead anywhere.”
”But the obituary--”
”Someone's messing with you. Don't let them.”