Part 29 (1/2)

”No stamp,” Agent Cunningham said.

He pulled out a half-inch-thick stack of letter-sized pages. The pages flopped over and I could see that they were additional pages of the professor's ma.n.u.script. A note was attached to the first page with a paper clip.

Agent Cunningham read it aloud. ” 'Honestly, Grant, I don't know if this will hurt or help you right now. I just felt compelled to send it to you.' ”

Agent Cunningham looked up. ”Who's Professor Forsythe?” he asked.

”A colleague.”

”And this?” he asked, flipping through the pages, scanning the paragraphs.

”My family genealogy,” I said.

CHAPTER 22.

After relocating to the Red Lion in Mission Valley, I called Jana. Now more than ever I wanted to talk with the president. I'd spent over a year orbiting his world, conducting interviews that resulted in a portrayal of a life that now appeared to be all smoke and mirrors-and I was angry. My professional pride had been bruised and I felt like a patsy.

The questions kept stacking up: Exactly who was behind the changes in my book and why?

What was the president's response to Doc's version of events in Vietnam and the medications while in the White House?

Why didn't the president want me here in San Diego?

”It's because there's going to be an a.s.sa.s.sination attempt, isn't it?” I said, practicing my antic.i.p.ated interview. ”But you know that, don't you? Why? Why would you, the president of the United States, consent to your own a.s.sa.s.sination?”

Even before I asked, I could hear his reply: This world isn't what you think it is, Grant.

I was beginning to believe it.

Before my bags. .h.i.t the bed in my second hotel room, Jana's phone was ringing and ringing and ringing. Just when I thought I was going to get an answering machine, Jana answered. ”Grant?”

Her voice was shaky. I knew why.

”You talked to Sue Ling,” I said.

”Yeah,” she said quietly.

Was this how it was going to be for me from now on? Grant, the cosmic freak.

”Jana, I'm not a monster,” I said. ”I'm not going to reach through the phone and rip your face off.”

”You're angry.”

”You bet I'm angry! I'm angry, confused, hurt . . . And right now I could use a sympathetic ear. I'd expect as much from someone who has known me as long as you have.”

A stretch of silence was her reply.

I switched topics. ”The reason I called is that I need to get the information you have on the president's itinerary. Would it be possible for us to-”

”Grant . . . I can't talk about this right now. I . . . I . . .”

”Jana, I need that information. Could you at least send me a press packet or-”

”Grant, I really have to go.”

She hung up.

Frustrated, I tossed my phone onto the bed. It landed next to the professor's envelope, the one with the additional pages of ma.n.u.script.

Setting the ma.n.u.script on the table, I stared vacantly out the hotel window. I couldn't read right now.

A trio of boys splashed and screamed in the hotel pool. On the golf course a foursome was teeing off at the tenth hole. A man with a large belly and plaid pants took a healthy swing, tracked his ball, leaning to his right, leaned farther, said something I couldn't hear and probably didn't want to hear, slammed his club into his bag, then took off in a golf cart in search of his ball.

Not one of these people was thinking about angels. A few days ago I was just like them. I missed those days.

Pus.h.i.+ng myself up out of the chair, I turned back into the room. My heart catapulted into my throat when I saw Myles Shepherd standing there.

CHAPTER 23.

Myles Shepherd. Looking very much alive.

It took several hard swallows for me to get my heart back where it belonged, and a couple more before I was able to form words. ”Aren't you dead?”

”You're not that lucky, Grant.”

Two men appeared from nowhere behind him. Since they hadn't entered through the door I felt it was a safe a.s.sumption that they were angels, too, and the fact that they weren't attacking Myles meant they were probably on his side.

All of these appearings and disappearings were starting to get on my nerves.

”Reinforcements, Myles?” I said. ”Are you afraid to face me alone?”

”Semyaza,” he said, sneering. ”My name is Semyaza. That should be clear even to you by now.”

We faced off as we always had, whether it was across a tennis net or over a chessboard or sparring over Jana.

”A lot has changed over the last few days, Grant,” Semyaza said. ”This world isn't what you thought it was, is it?”

”That's what everybody keeps telling me.”