April 10, 2016
Grinnell, Iowa
Orensen joined Paige and Ramsey on the front porch with a tray, three cups and a steaming pot of tea. “Thought we should have tea outside today,” the old man said with a twinkle as if everything was fine between them.
“Inside still cluttered with artifacts and religious relics gathering dust in shadowy corners?” said Ramsey, forcing a flash of irritation with his old mentor into a narrow compartment of his mind. He couldn’t afford to alienate him with pettiness. Not when he needed answers. He had to uncover Orensen’s involvement with the shrine, Adam Gwillt, the New Gnostics, and the South Africans. He cautioned himself to go lightly—the way he would with any interviewee.
Orensen laughed. “You haven’t been here since your return from New Mexico. I’m in the process of donating my entire collection to Falconer Gallery.” Ramsey arched his eyebrows. “There are changes afoot in my future and I don’t need them anymore. Though,” the old professor smiled wanly, “the house is lonely without them.”
The three sat around a glass table facing the street. The maple trees were leafing out and the grass, brown and dormant over the winter, glinted dark green under the rain. The road was as quiet as church. Even the neighbors seemed to be aware this meeting was more than three old friends getting together.
“I’m sorry, Jon. I should have called, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to see me after, well, after Oregon.” Paige was the only one who called him Jon. “Professor Orensen filled me in on New Mexico, sounds like something you’d want to do.”
Orensen chuckled. “Call me Roger. We’re all friends here.”
“I’m here, Roger, and it’s time we talk,” Ramsey said, taking great care to keep his tone upbeat.
“You have questions. I may have some answers.”
Ramsey glanced at Paige. She leaned back as if taking herself out of the conversation. It made him think she wasn’t there as a distraction but for something else. Ramsey reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his phone. He tapped a link with his finger and showed it to Orensen. It was a webpage from the Rio Chama’s newspaper telling the story of Adam’s disappearance. It showed the shrine’s sacred cottonwood tree. At the foot of the tree was Adam surrounded by three people in wheelchairs.
Pointing to the shrine’s caretaker, Ramsey asked, “You know who that is?”
The professor gave an apologetic shrug of his shoulders. “I’m sorry, Jonathan; I’ve never seen him.”
Taken aback by Orensen’s blatant deception, Ramsey’s resolve to tread lightly vanished. “Roger, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you lie so poorly,” he retorted, his voice now tight. “You know Adam Gwillt’s the source behind the shrine’s healing power.”
Paige put a hand on Ramsey’s arm. Ramsey shook her off. He’d been pushed, prodded, knocked out, tied up, dragged off, and lied to. He didn’t have to be nice to anyone. “You need to keep out of this, Paige. It’s between me and the professor . . . my old mentor.” His eyes bored into Orensen’s. “Tell me the truth, Roger. I deserve that much.”
Paige started to interrupt again, and Orensen held up a hand. “It’s okay.” The kindly eyes of his mentor disappeared and Orensen said, “You deserve the truth. There were rumors that Adam Gwillt was responsible for the healing, but the Friends of the Shrine kept it under wraps. They didn’t want a repeat of so many of these miracle spots, like the Lady of Lourdes, where worshippers come to idolize the woman and not the place.”
That’s better. Now we’re getting some straight talk for once. Ramsey shunted the rest of his anger aside. It would only get in the way of knowing when Orensen was telling the truth. “That may explain the shrine, but what about Haas and the South Africans?”
Orensen shook his head.
“The DeVere Mining Group . . . businessmen supposedly after diamonds in northern New Mexico but who were really looking for Adam Gwillt. They kidnapped me hoping to find him. It was all part of a plan to capture Adam. Their leader Haas mentioned you. Talked as though he knew you.”
“Whoever that was, he was lying,” Orensen said.
Ramsey took a breath. His suspicions about the DeVere chairman’s duplicity were confirmed. Unless Orensen’s lying to me. The seventy-five year old professor emeritus smiled and stared guilelessly. Ramsey knew he was telling the truth.
“Do you know where he is?” asked Orensen.
“Hoping you could help with that.”
The old man shrugged. “I know nothing about the South Africans or where Adam is. My involvement with the shrine and Adam has been peripheral. It’s with a group of New Gnostics here in Grinnell. There’s a meeting night. You’ll get your questions answered there.”
Ramsey grit his teeth. He didn’t like being put off, yet he could tell the professor wasn’t going to say anything more.
Orensen added, “I urge you to come to our meeting. I’ll introduce you and you can ask them what they know.”
Ramsey scowled. “You should’ve told me everything when we first talked.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” Orensen apologized. His eyes narrowed and he said slyly, “On the other hand, ask yourself, even with Peru so far in the past, would you have been ready to accept everything?”
Ramsey jerked in surprise. The professor’s words stung him in a way he couldn’t deny. He stood abruptly to leave. Paige grasped his hand in hers. “I was hoping to attend the Gnostics assembly. But if you prefer I’ll stay away.”
He shook off her hand. “Who says I’m going.”