The Secret of the Ancient Alchemist (25 page)

“
You read
scripture?”

“
I read
everything. I believe we’re earth bound in a type of
hell.”

“
Hell?”

“
We’re
here to strengthen our minds.”

“
Through
a realm, your brand of salvation.”

“
I feel
like I’m left alone to prove it to the world. Why’re you so
interested in me, Cathy?”

The question
wasn’t one she could easily answer but she did.

“
I read
your posting of The Perfect Mind. That’s where it all began. You
made reference to a poem, The Thunder, discovered at Nag Hammadi in
1945.”

“
The
words of the poem reflect wisdom. I quote its most important
lines:

I am the silence that is incomprehensible. I was sent forth
from a power and I’ve come to those who reflect upon me, who seek
me
. It’s silence that
defines us, nothing else. Be still and know.”

“
It’s no
longer incomprehensible since you claim what’s in front of you is
in you, as light.”

“
That’s
what I believe. I can’t know everything. No one can.”

Cathy was
attracted to Hart’s contentious nature. She had been drawn to him
since he had started talking about a conscience in matter, a
universal mind.

Hart had been
vocal in his interviews on National Geographic, to the point of
obsession. Nothing would separate him from his beliefs, she knew.
He was adamant about religion being man-made and misguided. Nature
had the answers since it was created perfectly and couldn’t be
imitated. Man and nature were one.

“
What
you’re suggesting presents us with a whole new way of thinking, Dr.
Hart,” she said, looking over his head to the bookshelf that was
packed with volumes of literature on ancient antiquity.

“
Please
call me Tom and it scares you. I can tell from your
reticence.”

“
I’m in a
way.”

“
Because
you’re conditioned to thinking of yourself in a particular
way.”

“
That’s
not going to change.”

“
We think
we’re great for all the wrong reasons.”

“
We
do?”

“
You’re
the universe. I’m through saying how great the human is. I’m not
going to say it again. The missing pages will.”

“
You’re
being stubborn, now.”

“
I’m
not.”

“
You said
an old man is a child and a black person is white or a tiger, a
mountain, the defiled, the glorified, the proud and
humble.”

“
The sun,
the moon, the stars as well, that’s how great a human
is.”

“
You’re
so sure.”

“
The true
human being lies in a realm and is perfect. We’re here to
experience material life and it’s hard. We’re in a dubious
transition. We always say the moon shines. The ignorant judge and
the wise are spat on. The good suffer. Life has tests. It helps us
develop consciousness to move on to another realm where life is
easier. Don’t you see?”

“
Consciousness of what, Tom?”

“
A higher
force in our lives. The battleground is the mind, staying
firm.”

Hart was more
emotional than she imagined he would be. He believed in all that he
said. It showed clearly in his penetrating eyes and forthright
demeanour. She listened as he spoke further.

“
The
thinkers of the past, Einstein, Bohr, Newton, and Galileo had much
difficulty in finding answers to questions that arose in their
time, questions relating to life, death, the solar system, the
earth’s relationship to the universe, questions regarding motion,
gravity, space and time but, most important of all, were
questions…”

“
Like
what?” she interrupted.

“
Questions as to whether we’re alone. But we’re not. We’re
connected to each other and to other worlds because the universe is
in us. Like you, people choose to ignore it.”

“
Like
me?”

“
Yes.”
Hart was truly saddened to see reluctance in Cathy’s eyes, the same
he had seen in so many. “I’ve been described as arrogant, hubristic
in thinking and a man of no wisdom. I’ve been slapped with just
about everything.”

“
We
simply can’t change our thinking overnight, Tom, and you shouldn’t
expect the world to embrace you.”

“
Why
shouldn’t I?”

“
Because
all you claim can’t be proven.”

He shook his
head. “I truly wish people could see that they’re steps away, steps
away.”

“
From
what, Tom?”

“
Suffering,” he shot up.

Beginning to
tremble from Hart’s intense nature, Cathy was surprised when he
calmed down and said, “Would you care to join me for dinner?”

Chapter 54

Life in
Paris was hectic when Frenchman and Louvre Director, Michelle
LaPlotte, walked along Avenue de Suffren in Paris with much on his
mind. Scooter horns blared in traffic and people rushed through
flood and rain. Inside bistros, Parisians buried their heads in Le
Monde’s headline news:
Le Côte d'Azur est caché sous les eaux! La maison
de Picasso est dans la mer. Le musée du Louvre est en
danger.

“
We’re
losing our beloved Cote d’Azur. We’ve lost Picasso’s home. What’s
to become of us?” he overheard as he waited to cross the avenue.
The pleading words came from a dame standing on the pavement
clutching her poodle.

“
Ah! You
worry too much,” the man next to her said. “I spent an hour talking
to you for nothing.” He dragged on his cigar and, glancing
sideways, motioned. “Come, Madame, move away from here.”

“
Pressons! Pressons!” Gendarmes yelled out trying to clear
cars and pedestrians off the street. The French President was
making his way to Versailles.

“
Marcelle, you want me to believe in a prophetic date?” the
dame complained as the noise quieted.

“
It will
be revealed soon.” The man’s eyes sparkled as he turned around and
bumped into LaPlotte. “My friend, how are you?” he exclaimed. He
knew Laplotte well.

“
Not as
good as you, Marcelle. I see you’re in the company of a lovely
lady.”

“
This is
Madame Vichy.”

“
How are
you, Madame?”

The woman gazed
at the tall LaPlotte. With his deep, haunting voice, He was
enigmatic, she thought. She tried to connect to him but LaPlotte
raised his arm and looked at his watch.

“
I’m
late, Marcelle. We’ll talk later. Same place.”

As he crossed
Avenue de Suffren, Madame Vichy’s turned to Marcelle. “I see you
know the Louvre curator. He’s a nice man and he’s single. Did you
know that?”

“
I’m sure
he’s not looking for a wife, Madame. He comes here after work to
sip Brandy. We haven’t spoken for some time. LaPlotte seems
disturbed. I don’t know why. He’s a very quiet man. He sips his
brandy and says little.”

“
Look,
Marcelle, look,” Madam Vichy pointed.

Marcelle
turned. “What is it, Madame?”

“
Someone is following LaPlotte. Look beyond the kiosk, you
will see him.”

Chapter 55

“
You’re
okay?” Hart inquired. Cathy was doodling her food with her
fork.

“
Well,
for starters, Tom, you seem obsessed with a science called Noetic
Science.”

“
It’s the
science of
nous
or mind, of
consciousness. It’s our future, a path to a full realization of
human potential.”

“
Olsen,
is predicting the unpredictable. For a scientist, how come you’re
so comfortable with all this?”

“
Humans
receive radio waves from another dimension for one.”

“
Really?”

“
And,
presentiment
is
a term applied when someone knows something’s about to happen and
it does. It’s real. We can foretell the future, even if it’s in a
small way.”

“
I just
can’t get a grasp of this, I suppose.”

“
Because
you’ve never thought about it, have you? We have conditioned
ourselves to act, be and succeed in a certain way. We’ve been
trained to rely on ourselves instead of the supernatural. Isn’t
that so? As for matter, no one understands how important it
is.”

“
Particles, you mean. All that funny stuff scientists
study.”

Hart chuckled.
“We’re not separated from creation. We depend on it. Don’t tag me
as peculiar or idiosyncratic. I’ve really had enough of all
that.”

The
candles Hart lit flickered. The glow reflected in his eyes and made
him surreal. He blinked. Cathy was starting to seem simple. He
wondered if she would ever understand it was his life to fathom
human existence. She would never be able to perceive just how
trying the four years he’d spent alone were, wondering if he would
ever see results, if he would ever be able to find a rightful place
to rest his belief that matter was a path to supremacy. When he had
heard the gospel words from Professor Leidman, he could’ve hardly
breathed, hardly planted his feet on the ground.
Matter gave birth
to a passion that has no equal. For where the mind is, there lies
the treasure.
The ‘mind’
was the universal mind lying una realm accessed through a mindless
state. The design was set and all he needed were ten missing pages
of the gospel to further explain it all. He decided to ignore her
posturing.

“
I’m not
tagging you, Tom, but you believe God is mind and you’re so sure,
that’s the problem. You’re so sure about all that you
say!”

“
Ok.”

“
You
really believe there’s life after death?”

“
You’re
afraid of your own destiny, Cathy.”

“
Nobody
knows what’s in store for us.”

“
I
do.”

“
Come on
Tom, you could never know.”

“
Somewhere there’s life that’s better and forever. Life in
this realm is tough. You know I think about the missing gospel
pages everyday wondering what was said in them. Why would someone
destroy them, why?”

“
Why?”

“
Yes,
why?”

“
Probably
because they were incredibly complex.”

“
I
suppose but I don’t think that’s the real reason.”

“
Then,
what?”

“
Ar’you
aware that all the ancient secrets have been destroyed. Every
single one. Not one has survived.”

“
That is
strange, I suppose.”

“
It’s
because it’s unthinkable that God’s essence can be seen or that
it’s possible for our mind to be replaced by the mind of
God.”

“
You
could be right. By the way, Tom, you’re not just a fanatic, but one
hell of a cook. This food is great.”

“
Glad you
like it. I don’t often get a chance to offer my
cooking.”

“
Got no
family?”

“
I have a
sister. My parents live in Maine.”

Cathy felt more
than a tinge of ardour. Hart was everything she’d ever wanted in a
man. She straightened up. Romantic notions of him were dumb, she
reminded herself.

“
Finished?” he asked.

“
Yes, thanks.” She got up as Hart grabbed her plate.
Checking the time on her watch, she realized two hours had gone by
really fast. “Well, I guess you have lots to do, Tom.”

“
Actually, I don’t. I’ll go get some tea.”

She followed
him to the kitchen that was modelled from a home-style magazine.
Hart even had an enviable display of cookbooks lining his shelf and
the most ornate set of cutlery she had ever seen.

“
Let me
do the washing up, Tom.”

“
No, next
time.”

Next time, she thought.
Is he going to invite me back?
Cathy grabbed a
stool and did a quick scan of Hart’s body. It didn’t take long to
figure out why he was so physically toned. Ten feet away she could
see the mini gym with all the latest paraphernalia of fitness gear.
She quickly turned her thoughts back to the reason she was there
and that was to capture the very essence of Tom Hart.

Chapter 56

An agent of the
CDI, the Central Directorate of Interior Intelligence of France
waited at the kiosk where Laplotte stood reading a newspaper.

The agency had
many functions, chief among them was a surveillance of groups. The
agency had waited long to grab LaPlotte’s fanatical Brotherhood.
The group had been the suspect in the death of the French artist,
Francis La Croix, five years ago but they couldn’t have gotten
anywhere with the matter. There were no witnesses.

Since that
time, the group had resurfaced and the CDI had gathered the names
of its new members. G.W Foster was a name the agent was familiar
with, as was, Marcelle Vireaux. Vireaux was a retired colonel of
the army.

LaPlotte had
gotten careless, the agent thought. He replied to an email that was
incriminating. The agent’s eyes skipped across it as he read it in
his hand. The e-mail had come from Foster.