The problem is, I'm not sure you'll get another chance. The words kept ringing in Rafe's mind as he struggled to climb the stone stairs back to the top of the cliff and to the car, if it was still there. His knees were bloodied as he had fallen several times. It was much harder to climb up than it had been to walk down. Rafe's thighs burned as he pushed himself to put one foot in front of the other and inch his way towards to the top of the cliff. His legs were weak from low circulation as the ropes had cut into him; Rafe kept moving. Soon he could at least see the top and it gave him increased motivation to move faster.
He felt a giant loss. Although he had been betrayed, he felt a loss just the same. Neal had been a close confidant for years. Now Rafe was truly alone. He was truly alone in his fight for Clare. He was the only one who could save her. And I will die if I have to in order to do so! he thought to himself. I will do anything to save her. The panic returned with a vengeance. Where is she?
Rafe finally arrived at the top of the cliff and sat down facing the ocean. He had to rest as he was breathing heavily and felt light-headed. It had taken several hours to free himself from the ropes, and he was quite tired. For the first time, he felt almost hopeless. The events of the recent past had taken a toll on his body and especially his mind. I have to find the strength to go on. I am her only chance. The light was beginning to peek over the horizon behind him to the east. The ocean lay undisturbed by human hands before him, violently crashing into the shoreline below, creating a crescendo of noise. It was a beautiful sight; he tried to allow the rhythm of the waves to soothe him. He lay back in the grass and tried to take a quick nap as he was exhausted. It was no use. Too bad I can't enjoy it! After thirty minutes of contemplating his situation, his energy had returned. Rafe stood and made his way back to where they had left the vehicle. He felt slightly stronger now. He was overjoyed when he saw it was still there. Thank you for small miracles. Rafe took one last look at Fort Ross as the sun broke over the horizon then got in the car and drove back towards San Francisco.
Rafe didn't know what to do next. He stared out over the water at the yachts moored off the coast of Sausalito. The vessels drifted in the wind that had picked up as the day grew older. He had returned to the same bistro for something to eat after catching some sleep at the hotel. He had even managed to bandage his knees. Rafe had rapidly experienced all the different stages of grief for the loss of his good friend, Neal. Now he was just feeling anger, again. He was enraged at the betrayal but powerless to do anything about it. He drank quickly the cup of coffee the waitress had brought him and then asked her for another. The young girl returned shortly to refill his cup. She dropped a newspaper on the table for his perusal. "You look bored," she added. "Maybe this will help." She smiled and walked away.
Searching for inspiration, he spread out the paper on the table to take in the headlines. There were the usual school massacres and drive-by shootings but immediately his eyes were glued to an article from New York City. It seemed that as the construction crews were digging the underground sites for the new Second Avenue Subway line, they had found an archeological discovery that no one could explain. Experts were trying to determine how a two-thousand-year-old Roman Mythraic temple could have been built underneath New York. This just keeps getting stranger. I guess I'm going back to New York immediately. I'm going home.
The flight to New York City was a long one. Since he bought a ticket at the last minute, he couldn't get a direct flight and had to switch planes in Denver. The layover was maddening. He paced the carpeted concourse of the modern airport and waited for his connection. The plane for the flight was late arriving due to maintenance reasons and his departure was moved back two hours, so he amused himself in the bar. Rafe didn't arrive at JFK until almost midnight. The familiar airport was empty as he walked through the terminal to the exit. After being in Europe, he was always shocked at the third world nature of the New York City airports. The infrastructure was old and lacking in any aesthetic appearance. One of the escalators was not working. There seemed to be no sense of urgency to fix it. There was no style, no class, just barely functioning steel and concrete. He hadn't checked a bag, so he immediately took a cab into the city. The traffic was negligible at this hour and Rafe was in Manhattan within twenty minutes after crossing via the tunnel.
The extreme stress he had felt before in his life in New York returned just as fast as it had left when he had arrived in Venice months before. That Italian existence seemed like another life now. He missed his garden of herbs on the balcony. Maybe I can go back there when this is all over, he mused. Rafe considered calling his ex-wife but thought better of it. Maybe I'll touch base in a few days, when I know more about what's going on here and hopefully have more information on Clare. He had booked a night at the W Hotel on Lexington in Midtown and upon arrival, was shown directly to his room. The boutique, modern facility was a favorite watering hole for the after-work, banker crowd near Park Avenue. After dropping off the small bag he traveled with, Rafe quickly returned to the bar. There was too much on his mind for sleep at this point. Plus, he had gotten some shut-eye on the plane. He was wide awake and his mind was racing. Rafe walked into the dark, modern space near the west end of the lobby and ordered a drink. He sat at a shady, corner table, out of the way of most of the patrons, that is those that were left at this hour. It was well after midnight and the crowd was thinning. Rafe contemplated his next actions silently. Should I just show up at the temple? Would any of the visitors be there? Why have I been drawn here? What's here for me to find? The answers would not come, and slowly fatigue began to wash over him. This last month has been a blur. I don't understand why I'm still alive. He began to get up and then noticed two women in their late twenties and early thirties talking furiously and comparing notes as they sat next to each other in front of the bartender. They were quite attractive. Rafe stood up and walked over to the modern bar and sat down near them. He wasn't interested in them romantically but more in a curious, informational way. They were obviously discussing something of importance. The interaction was quite heated.
"He has to find a way to fend off the attacks from Butler that will inevitably come!" stated the older girl emphatically.
"Sure, but he also has to seem above the fray. We don't want him dragged down into the weeds where he is not strong. We both know he's not a policy wonk."
"No, he's more of a sexual wonk. Wonking every new female intern that comes on board," laughed the other woman.
"Yeah, I think we've both been there, haven't we?"
"No comment!" laughed the older woman.
Rafe listened discretely for a few minutes and then decided to break into the conversation. He really didn't know why. "Sounds like you two are preparing for a debate or something."
The older of the two looked at him with a startled expression. "Why yes, we are. How did you know? Was it the exquisite way we dress or the intellectual quality of our conversation?" she said sarcastically, her eyes undressing Rafe from top to bottom in an obviously flirtacious manner.
Rafe Smiled. "I used to help with some political issues myself, back in the day. It's the same everywhere, you know. The incumbent has to be above it all, while at the same time not allowing any of the riffraff to get close to him. It's a delicate balance.”
"I guess it is. And, we definitely have riffraff. But he's ours." she replied, slowly letting her guard down. "Our candidate is debating the other side tomorrow. We were just wondering if our debate prep strategy was strong enough. We've been working on it for weeks but you always wonder. You always are worried you forgot to prep him on something or teach him how to respond to the inevitable difficult question. I guess we'll know very soon."
"Quite right! It's almost impossible to prepare for everything. Who's the candidate?" asked Rafe.
"Greg Bowker," she replied. Instantly Rafe remembered the face of the man who asked him to drink the sedative at Tsaritsyno, and he noticeably stiffened. He remembered the man walking over to him with the long blade, an evil glint in his eye as he hoped to be able to use it on Rafe's midsection. The thought of disemboweling Rafe giving him great pleasure.
"What's wrong? Do you know him?" asked the younger staffer.
Rafe regained his composure. "Let's just say we've met once in a dark alley."
"Hmmm. That doesn't sound good. He does have quite the reputation. I hope it wasn't anything too terrible. If so, we don't want to know about it! At least not now anyway."
"Yeah, and please don't tell the press, whatever it is!" laughed the other woman.
"What's your names?" asked Rafe.
"I'm Megan, this is Kathy. We've worked together on several campaigns. But this has been the most interesting to say the least!"
"So where's the debate?" asked Rafe.
"It's at NYU downtown. Do you want to come? I have some tickets here in my bag. It's quite an important race." She reached into her purse and handed Rafe a ticket.
"I'll be there," he said coldly. "Thank you." Rafe got up from the bar and caught the elevator to his room.
Rafe had booked a luxurious suite overlooking Manhattan. I deserve it after what I've been through! he rationalized as he kicked off his shoes upon entering. It was decorated in an elegant, modern design and had a large floor-to-ceiling, glass window which looked out over Midtown from the twenty-second floor. This city really doesn't ever sleep! he remarked to himself as he stood taking in the twinkling lights of the metropolis. A glass of single malt scotch from the mini-bar finished the mood quite nicely. Soon, his eyes grew tired.
After a few hours of trying, Rafe realized he was not going to be able to sleep. The bed was incredibly soft and the bedding luxurious but it was of no use. His mind was still racing. He sat up in bed and flipped his legs over the side to stand then made his way in the dark to the desk, switching on the light. He opened the laptop that he had bought in San Francisco and searched for news on the Mytrhraic temple discovered in Manhattan a few days before.
The Second Avenue Subway, or SAS, had been a dream of New Yorkers since the turn of the twentieth century. But that dream had been a long time turning into reality. The Lexington Avenue line a few streets over was the busiest in the United States with over 1.2 million riders a day. SAS was planned in 1929, but work was never started due to the Great Depression. The line was revived after the end of the Second World War, but funds were diverted to maintenance projects on existing routes. Digging actually was initiated in the early 1970s and some progress was made, but the project was halted when New York City became insolvent. In the first decade of the twenty-first century, the project finally moved forward to reality with construction on phase one, which would connect 96th and 63rd streets. The few sections that were completed during the 1970s were to be tied into the new sections being built. Due to changes in design, a couple of the previously completed sections were to be abandoned. This initial tunnel on the new route was completed in 2011, with the tracks and other equipment scheduled to be completely installed by 2016.
It seemed the temple was discovered while excavating an underground storage area off the main tunnel, to be used for housing electronics to run the entire system. Federal law required work to be halted when a possible archeological site was discovered. Members from the State Historic Preservation Office were called in to begin exploration of the temple. They were still trying to figure out how the temple came into existence, as it was obviously ancient. The entire known course of human history could be altered. Evidence of the Roman Empire in North America? Archeologists all over the world were salivating to get more information on the discovery.
There must be security down there, thought Rafe. And how in the world would I even find it underground? It's not like you can just walk into a subway dig and know your way around. I'll have to figure something out. Maybe it will come to me tomorrow. Rafe closed the computer, hopped back in bed, and closed his eyes. He thought about Clare for a few minutes, then sleep finally came quickly.