Where is the tree of life in Eden that cures death and who finds it first and becomes the world's superpower? This is the ultimate quest by America and China in this mystery series that will keep readers sitting on the edge of their seat. Only $0.99 now but $2.99
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Chapter One
Shocking news! Professor Cramwell stared
wide-eyed at Professor Muse, his friend, after listening to a replay of the CD
of their bugged telephone discussion. He was dumbfounded to learn that the two
beautiful ladies he chatted and shared drinks with were spies. Talk about close
shave and dinning with the devil! Was the world so full of secret agents that a
man could innocently walk into their waiting hands?
Professor Cramwell started recalling the
events of that day. “I was sitting down with a bottle of cognac at the hotel
bar expecting your arrival when the two women walked up to me and politely
asked to keep me company,” explained Cramwell to Muse. “And I thought they were
heaven sent and quickly obliged them because you asked me to keep two women on
arrival during our telephone conversation.”
The two friends
were discussing what happened on Cramwell’s first visit from Boston to meet
with Muse in Citizens Hotel, Washington. During that last visit, they didn’t
have a chance to talk before Chinese agents kidnapped Muse as soon as Muse
arrived to join Cramwell and the women at the hotel. And here was Cramwell
listening to a taped discussion that they both earlier had which gave their
secret meeting place away to the Chinese abductors.
Cramwell pinched himself hard to make
sure he wasn’t dreaming. Yes, it hurt; it was for real that he was sitting on a
summer afternoon in his longtime friend’s parlor in Washington who had invited
him over for the second time from Boston. They used to be together at Harvard
before Muse left for Washington for an assignment unknown to Cramwell.
“Yes, you played into their hands. They
heard our telephone discussion and knew everything. They already learnt we
needed two women for the night and that I was coming to meet you at the hotel,”
replied Muse. “They were many as you now know. It was a well-planned operation
and I was the prime target.” He was sorry for only one thing.
Cramwell kept mum. He was still trying
to compose himself.
“Ignorance is a bad thing and I regret
thinking you scripted my kidnapping,” Muse continued. “That’s what I actually
told the U.S. ambassador in Beijing after my captors released me to him. I only
found out the truth when I played the CD that we listened to. It was a parting
gift from the Chinese agents to me. I was surprised to discover when I played
it in my room on the night of my release that it contained our recorded
telephone discussion!”
“I’ve never played traitor all my life.
I accept your apology. And to think that they even gave you the taped
discussion as a gift? Can I be sure that we aren't being recorded right now?”
asked Professor Cramwell, his eyes sweeping the large room.
“You don’t have to worry. Everything’s
secure here,” Muse assured his friend.
“It’s good we spoke in Harvardspeak in
that recorded discussion,” remarked Professor Cramwell, referring to their invented
language at Harvard. “They won’t understand a thing.”
“Yet, it’s no secret anymore.”
“Yes, your kidnapping made headlines.
But you haven’t disclosed what the whole thing is all about. What brought you
from Harvard to Washington? What’s this secret thing that you are doing for the
White House that triggered your abduction by the Chinese the last time? We even
thought it was either Cuban, Iranian or North Korean spies that did it. Those
ladies deceived me into thinking that they were North Koreans on vacation in
America.”
“It was a dummy that the Chinese sold to
the American government and they bought it, which made my kidnapping successful
because the FBI wasn’t looking for the Chinese. As to why I left Harvard to
Washington, that’s why I actually asked you to come over. And that was the
reason for my call to you that was taped by the Chinese. Now, let’s begin the
story. Did you hear today’s breaking news?” asked Muse.
“Yes, it said Chinese spies were
imprisoned at Lake Van in Turkey,” answered Cramwell.
“You're going to be involved in this
thing.”
“Have I joined the U.S. Navy Seal to
embark on epic rescue missions?”
Professor Muse laughed. “I don’t care if
they all perish there anyway,” he said. “I suppose my kidnappers would be among
the number. Any rescue attempt would be the business of the Chinese government,
not the duty of the U.S. army.”
“How did they end up there in the first
place?”
“We all heard the breaking news
together. There were no details. It's a developing story; we'll get the full
information later,” replied Muse.
“Well, be kind to the spies anyway. They
set you free after all.”
There were many things that Cramwell
didn’t know. He suspected his friend knew what went wrong but wasn’t telling.
“So what’s this thing that I'm supposed
to do?” Cramwell asked.
“Good question. Can you leave Harvard
and come over to live here in Washington? The president wants you to join me in
my assignment. Will you?”
“You're my friend but you haven’t told
me what it’s all about.”
“I can’t tell you anything now. I took
an oath before taking up the work. You'll have to take an oath of secrecy after
you agree, too.”
Cramwell gazed at his friend and
wondered which came first. Shouldn’t he be told what the work was before taking
the oath?
And why tell him to forsake his Hebrew
classes at Harvard for the unknown? Has Muse moved house and suddenly forgotten
his friend’s love for the language? Does the Potomac make Washingtonians
forget? If for anything, he loved the rambunctious students, and they won’t let
him go.
In fact, Cramwell had penned down a set
of debating Bible questions for the semester. He remembered the argumentative
questions: “Do souls eat food or
not?” “Did the sun really stand still
over Gibeon?” “What’s the difference
between hell and hell fire?” The students would sure tear one another to pieces
over the questions. Just as they had argued over how many times God made light
and how many times the Israelites crossed the Red Sea.
Professor Cramwell had also started the
students’ Hebrew-to-Greek vocabulary building. They had known, for example,
that the Hebrew word Sheol means Hades in Greek, besides several other words.
But now they were going to do Greek-to-Hebrew words. He wanted to ask the
students to find a Hebrew word for the Greek word Anastasis. In fact, he
planned to hold up one hundred dollar note as the prize for the best answer.
As he thought of it, he remembered a
particular female student who liked screaming and who will keep shouting to
drown the others with her answer. And he had knowledge of a male student who
will jump to snatch the dollar bill from him without making any attempt at the
question. Students! He, too, was one.
Professor Cramwell enjoyed all of these.
So why was his friend telling him now to abandon what he knew and loved to what
he wasn’t familiar with?
Cramwell thought that Muse asked him to
fly from Boston to Washington to recite the Bible to politicians, earn some
good money and return to Boston. That would have been fine. He would stand
there in the Capitol Hill and recite from Genesis to Revelation!
“I can’t think of anything that'll make
me leave my students at Harvard,” he replied.
Then Muse knew that he would have to
tell his friend what he liked to hear. And indeed what he was going to say was
true.
“It’s a work you'll enjoy doing. It’s
all about these things,” Muse said pointing to the bookshelf in his library.
“The only difference is that you won’t be teaching students at the university.
You’ll only need the books to explain some writing.”
“A kind of literary interpretation?”
“That’s the word. Interpreting some
quaint Hebrew literature.”
At the mention of Hebrew literature,
Cramwell’s face lit up.
“You'll be living right next to me.
Come, let me show you,” Muse said to him.
They rose, walked across the sitting
room to the window, and Muse raised the window blind.
“That guarded apartment will be yours
for life. You'll have a cook and house servants like me. And there'll be a
library of Hebrew literature for your consultation.”
Cramwell’s face lit brighter.
“And what's more?” Professor Muse
continued. “We've an opportunity to travel round the world!”
Professor Cramwell smiled broadly as
they strolled back to their seats. How could he reject the generous
presidential offer? Wasn’t he ashamed when two globe-trotting ladies, who he
now knew as Chinese spies educated him about East Africa?
“Tell the president I'll gladly accept
the offer. I need some drinks right now. Let the belated Champagne Summit
begin!”
A servant brought them champagne. After
drinking, Professor Muse escorted his friend to his new house in the evening.
Cramwell was happy. He now had a new home, working for the White House.
Interpreting Hebrew literature. Hebrew
pays! They sat down to talk after supper at Cramwell’s apartment.
“There’s so much luxury in government. I
can’t believe I own this big house.”
“That’s good. And do you like the monthly
salary and allowances as well?” asked Muse.
“You can ask me that again. My yearly
earning in Harvard doesn’t come close to it.”
Cramwell was still wondering the reason
for all the opulence. Government isn’t stupid!
“It’s now time for us to talk; time for
you to know why the U.S. government is paying you all that money. They want to
find the tree of life in Eden and it's our duty to light the way.”
Cramwell was as motionless as a statue.
Where did that come from?
“How can we know?” was all he could say
after he regained his composure. “It doesn’t exist.”
“But it does.”
Cramwell was puzzled. What was his
friend talking about? Where did he see the tree of life? Was the champagne
drink working on him?
“Then you should be telling me instead,”
Cramwell challenged Muse.
That was a trick remark, thought Muse.
Maybe he shouldn’t have said the tree existed. But he chose not to answer
Cramwell. He wanted to deepen the mystery.
“Okay, the tree of life exists in the
Bible,” said Cramwell. He glanced at his bookshelf and saw various Bible
translations in Hebrew. “Yes, it's there in Genesis,” he pointed and rose to
fetch a copy.
“Not yet. That won’t help. We've been
provided an external Hebrew source.”
Cramwell sat down eagerly. “Where’s it?”
he asked.
“Have you heard of the Methuselah poem?”
Muse asked Cramwell.
“That’s strange. Methuselah wasn’t a
poet. You’ve a Noble prize in literature. You should know.”
“But there’s proof,” Muse said, laying
the two-line Hebrew poem on the table. Cramwell read:
השיטפוןבא, וטיאטאאתהעץשלחייםהלאה,
אפילועדן+o
עדיין, הגןוהעץנשארים,
כ/כפישאלוהיםפסקבהתחלה+o
“That’s interesting. Where did they find
this?”
“At the Aegean or Mediterranean Sea, so
they said,” replied Muse.
“Odd place to find a poem written by
Methuselah.”
“It’s a long story, though. Now, what
does this poem mean?” asked Muse.
Professor Cramwell took a pen and wrote:
The
Flood came and swept the tree of life away, even Eden+o
Yet,
the garden and the tree remain, as God decreed at the beginnin’+o
“It’s exactly what I've here,” said Muse
producing a paper from his right pant pocket and handing it over to Cramwell.
“Those Stanford chaps must be cerebral.”
Professor Cramwell peered at the paper.
“Which Stanford folks were you talking about?” he asked Muse.
“That’s where the original manuscript
was translated after the discovery.”
“They've an excellent Hebrew faculty
there headed by Professor Daniel. It could’ve been him,” Cramwell said.
“Now, the translation is only the
beginning. Where’s Eden and the tree of life from your understanding of this
poem? That’s your task—and mine!”
What an assignment? Cramwell wondered.
“Why do they want to know?” he asked Muse.
“The U.S. government wants to use the
tree of life to cure death and become the world’s sole superpower. But China is
in the race, too. That was why I was kidnapped by the Chinese the last time.
They found out that I was in possession of the Methuselah poem and wanted an
interpretation to outwit America.”
It was another revelation that shook
Cramwell. He has to learn fast because there seemed to be many secrets in
Washington.
END OF FREE
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