Over the coming weeks, Corkery/Glynn would spend some time in the stacks and at a computer in the Foley Library. To his fellow residents at Jesuit House, Glynn seemed a taciturn man, preoccupied (actually cautious), talking almost not at all to his fellow Jesuits, in the dining room or elsewhere. Dressed in civvies, he took walks along the river. No one paid enough attention to seriously wonder about him.
What he was really doing, of course, was killing time. Waiting. Once he attended a baseball game at Seafirst Stadium, not something you’d expect of someone not long in the country from Ireland—someone to whom the game must surely be a total mystery. But it was necessary.
* * *
It wasn’t long before Luther Koskela, alias Martin Luther Karlson, became a full-time security employee at Seafirst Stadium. Meanwhile, on nights without games, he had time to explore the place thoroughly. The most interesting thing he found was a utility crawl space above a press box, accessible through an entry panel. His master key worked nicely in its lock. It had a plywood floor, and an inconspicuous hatch overhead, easily overlooked. He unbolted the hatch.
Most fortuitous of all, it also had a small panel that when opened, gave a view of the field. Presumably it had once had a purpose; Koskela saw one of his own for it. Chuckling, he shook his head. Can you say convenient, Koskela? he asked himself. You always were a lucky dog, but this takes the prize.
He closed the panel, then backed out the door.
* * *
Ngunda Aran’s intercom chirped, and he turned from his computer screen to touch a flashing button. “What is it, Norman?”
“Mr. Knowles would like to talk to you.”
“Send him in.”
In appearance, Art Knowles was the stereotypical security director: middle-aged, stocky, serious, and seemingly fit.
Ngunda gestured toward his beverage station. “Coffee?” he asked. “Tea? Cocoa?”
Knowles shook his head. “I’ve had some,” he answered, and sat down uninvited.
Ngunda had swiveled his own chair to face him. “What can I do for you?” He grinned. “For you who do so much for me.”
“I’m worried about your Inland Northwest trip.”
“Ah.”
“I have no information about unusual risks. It’s simply a feeling. And despite its reputation, regionwide there isn’t even an unusual percentage of people hostile to blacks or new ideas or liberals. In fact, the Centrists got an overall majority there in the last two elections. But I’m still worried about your safety there.”
Ngunda smiled. “Of course. As the world has learned, a single, unknown dedicated enemy can be highly dangerous. And you are highly sensitive to dangers. I will discuss your concerns with Lor Lu. Is there anything else you’d like me to do?”
Knowles shook his head. I wish there were, he thought. Something concrete. “Just be careful,” he said. “Be especially careful.”
“If you think of something, let me know. Or let Lor Lu know. You’re aware of his perceptiveness to danger.”
“I know he can sniff out bombs better than any dog.”
Ngunda smiled and stood, and when Knowles followed suit, put his hands on the security chief’s thick shoulders. “Arthur,” he said, “let me suggest that with your help I will come through the tour safely. I have no doubt of it.” He smiled as if inwardly amused by something. “It is too soon for my death,” he added.
For a moment, Art Knowles looked uncertainly at him, then nodded. He believed, but he would leave nothing to chance. “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll try my best to make an accurate prophet of you.”
Ngunda laughed. “And I thank you.” He laughed again. “You have my sincere best wishes for your success.”
53
From “Ngunda’s Room” in
New Age Wonks’ Clubhouse
Bertie from Blighty: On occasion you refer to younger souls and older souls, and I have read Ms. Yarbro’s interesting books. I would appreciate your elaborating on what you mean by younger and older souls, and on what you consider to be the significance of soul age in one’s life.
Dove: The first time you were born into the Earth School, you were totally inexperienced in it. So you incarnated into a simple, homogeneous society for the purpose of “breaking in,” so to speak. To reduce uncertainty as much as possible.