James Steimle - The Kukulkan Manuscript

Alred immediately pulled away as though she’d just been propositioned. She stared at Porter as if he’d already been shipped to the crazy house. Porter pulled her again and whispered into her left ear for a longer time.

Sowerby felt someone brush up behind him and stay. He turned to see a large African-American with hard eyes looking down at him. The man wore a dark gray suit and a green paisley tie which looked slightly out of date, and he held a file folder in his left hand against his chest.

“Who is that,” said Alred behind Sowerby. There was just enough seriousness in her voice to tell Sowerby that at least she cared about who was talking with Porter’s lawyer.

“Batman.” Porter spoke with the same gravity. “I hope.”

“Stan Clusser, FBI,” said the agent, raising his identification with his right hand. He gave Sowerby the folder without looking at his old missionary companion. “Call me to the stand and ask me these questions after the recess. Take the steps you need to reach this goal.”

“I’ll have to look them over first and meet with the Prosecuting Attorney,” said Sowerby, fighting to keep a hand on some semblance of dignity.

“You do whatever is necessary,” said Clusser. “Memorize the file.”

One eye shot to Porter and Alred, and the agent pushed into the small crowd behind him.

Sowerby huffed in indignation, then looked at his client.

Porter raised his eyebrows while tilting his mellow face downward. “I trust that man more than I trust you,” he said to Sowerby.

“Well…you’ve gotta have someone on your side.” Sowerby let his smile show the sarcastic bitterness.

Alred walked away shaking her head at both of them.

Staring at the empty judge’s seat, as Sowerby packed his black briefcase, Porter said, “You have a piece of paper?”

Sowerby handed a sheet to him and watched his client sit and scrawl out the date: May 7, 1997.

“What’s that, a journal entry?”

Porter looked at his attorney with obvious anger in his eyes. “Yeah.”

Sowerby lifted a hand, finished gathering his things, and turned to chase after Mr. Comer. But as he did so, he gazed over his client’s shoulder at Porter’s first written words:

I, John D. Porter, have done at last that which I thought I would never do.

Sowerby didn’t want to read anymore.

12:02 p.m. PST

The recess was not nearly long enough, and Porter still had a vast amount of questions. Sowerby was in a bad mood and didn’t seem to care about Porter at all anymore. Porter thought that even Sowerby wanted him to fry in the legal pan. But the truth came in the form of Clusser’s script. Questions filled the page, and Sowerby no doubt realized he would do little for this case; it was all in the care of the FBI now, though Sowerby would never understand how or why.

Porter watched the skinny attorney stand and call Agent Stan Clusser to testify. Mr. Comer had already been briefed and had no problem with a member of the FBI stepping forth.

Porter wondered what the Prosecuting Attorney intended to do after his verbal explosion. Well, Porter had said his peace. He felt good about it and would stand behind his words to the end, while at the same time he wondered when that end would come.

The next act of the play had begun. A few preliminary questions: Tell the court who you are, what are your credentials etc.

Sowerby did his best to look like he’d invented the questions himself. “Agent Clusser, in your opinion as a field operative of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, has a crime been committed?”

Sitting tall in the leather chair, Clusser gave a powerful, “Yes.”

“Will you tell us what has happened?”

“I will. On the twenty-second of March, an object of archaeological significance, the property of Guatemala, illegally entered the United States.”

“You are referring to KM-2?” said the attorney.

Clusser’s brow lowered as he nodded, and Porter suspected the attorney wasn’t sticking to his lines. “That artifact was then passed to two graduate students attending Stratford University.”

“Who,” said Sowerby.

“John D. Porter and Erma Alred.”

“Do you suspect Porter and Alred knew they had an illegal object?” said Sowerby.

Porter bit the inside of his cheek as he saw Clusser tighten up. Sowerby didn’t want to play the game. Porter trusted his missionary companion, but he was quickly losing faith in his attorney who had helped him little so far. For a second, Porter even wondered if the lawyer had already been bought off by those who’d tried to kill him. But he couldn’t continue thinking that way, because the next question might be, who else in the courtroom had been swayed by the secret combination pushing for Porter’s destruction?

The FBI agent’s eyes darkened. Porter knew his companion wasn’t the best at hiding his feelings. That’s what made him a good missionary. Porter wondered how he could possibly be a good field operative for the government if he couldn’t lie well.

“Agent Clusser?” said the attorney.

“I do not know to what realization the students came concerning the legality of their work.”

“But you have sat in court since the beginning, haven’t you? Listening to the testimonies?” said the attorney.

“I have.”

“Did you hear the statements made by Ms. Alred and the accused that Stratford University assigned them both to the project?” said Sowerby.

Clusser nodded. “The research was directed by a man known to some of the faculty and the students as one Dr. Peter Arnott.”

Sowerby tilted his head. “Are you giving credibility to Dr. Kinnard’s testimony that there was a person named Peter Arnott? Dr. Masterson and Dr. Goldstien deny there even was such a man.”

“Of course,” said Clusser. “Peter Arnott does not exist.”

“Excuse me?” said Sowerby.

“If it will please the court,” said Agent Clusser, “I will point out that the FBI has a classified file on the man called Peter Arnott. We did not until recently. However, the man has been identified with one Gerard Jasper, a pseudonym for someone currently under investigation.”

Sowerby stopped breathing. Porter eyed his attorney closely, trying to discern his thoughts, his true motives, and whether or not he would continue with the outline in his hand.

Clusser didn’t wait for the Defense Attorney to speak. He turned to the judge. “Your honor, I have reason to believe this entire crime has been orchestrated by outsiders who may be involved in a number of illegal activities presently being studied by the FBI. I am not, however, able to reveal any more at this time in a public court. Nevertheless, I have brought an edited file on this ‘Peter Arnott’ which may evidence enough to show that the defendant has been caught in the crossfire of a highly organized criminal operation.

“A connection with Arnott may also implicate Stratford University or some of its colleagues to such a degree that I would assume Dr. Masterson and Dr. Goldstien might wish to…amend their testimonies based on clearer memories revived by photos of Mr. Arnott. And of course, Stratford will then have to reconsider the possibility that two of its students may have been…mistreated. I believe you will find there is not enough evidence to convict the defendant, but that crimes have been committed, and the perpetrators are still out there.”

“I…have no further questions,” said Sowerby, moving to his seat while glancing at the Prosecuting Attorney.

Judge Panofsky lifted his eyes to the Prosecution. “Mr. Comer, would you like to question the witness?”

Comer spoke with his assistant for a few seconds before standing. “Your honor, the State wishes to review the new information before deciding whether or not we have a case with which to continue.”