novelxo Chapter 16: Angel on a Plane
Darren Fenestrate sipped his sparkling white wine, and tucked in to his peanuts. He tried to ignore the heavy snoring, coming from the man sat next to him. But this giant of a man drew Darren’s attention, like a lodestone. From his greasy hair held back by a bandana, emblazoned with the word union. Through the denim jacket, studded with the phrase hell’s angel. Darren had seen it when he sat down.
The sleeping man unconsciously scratched at trunk-sized arms, festooned with tattoos. His stars and stripes tee shirt swelled, and sank again with each snore. Finally down to his rigger boots. He was mumbling in his sleep. Darren thought he caught the words. “Remember ye are brethren.”
Just then there was a commotion up front. Darren craned forward in his window seat, to get a better look. Then his world exploded, as the glass next to him frame and all, just blew out. Darren was sucked neatly through the hole. As his mind swam in the sudden rush of oxygen depletion, Darren spun in the air. He saw the plane he had so recently been on. Just explode before his eyes.
If he had not been about to pass out, he may have blinked at the sudden blast of light. But as it was, he had a muddled view of the man who had slept next to him. Now floating a few feet from his face. Then he plummeted down, faster than he thought possible. There was a sudden rushing sensation, as twigs and branches flew up past him. Then Darren hit snow. He lay there for a minute or two. Then feeling no real pain, except the cold sensation now flowing through his back, he sat up. A quick check, and he confirmed his suspicions. He was entirely unharmed, so he set off for the lights down in the valley.
That was how Darren got in the paper he was now reading. He was a hotel room, in the Little Nell at Aspen, courtesy of the Daily Planet. “Exclusive reporters of the man who fell to earth, and survived.” The story continued. “D.Fenestrated from a plane, and lived. Mr Darren Fenestrate must be the luckiest man alive. Not only did he fall from a window, the process known as defenestration. He fell thirty six thousand feet to the ground, with out a parachute. And miraculously suffered no injury. But all this also happened seconds before a terrorist destroyed the jet.
The North Korean liberation front fighter had been on the radio proclaiming about his bomb. He was about to detonate it in his cause. On the recording you could clearly hear the window blowing out, at the point Mr Fenestrate was sucked out. Followed by the terrorist detonating his device. Although Mr Fenestrate is unharmed, he is adamant that he saw the passenger who sat next to him outside the plane too. A hell’s angel, but so far no evidence of his body has been found near where Mr Fenestrate clamed to have landed. Investigators are still searching the wreckage, where no other survivors have been found.”
There was a knock at the door, and putting the paper down Darren called out. “Is it room service? I ordered that sandwich half an hour ago.” But on opening the door he saw two suited men. “If you’re Jehovah witnesses you can sling your hook. I gave blood last month.” Not sure what to make of this, the taller one replied. “I don’t think they believe in giving blood.” With a quick check of himself, Darren came back. “Oh yes I was thinking of the latter day saints. So what do you want in that case?”
The shorter one beamed. “We’ve come to wish you well. Your parents must be glad of your fortuitous escape from death.” “Parent” corrected Darren. “My father was eaten by a tiger in Ealing, it had escaped from the zoo.” The shorter man whispered to his friend. “The widows son.” Darren was now into full remembrance continued. “All I got from him is this pendant he nicked from Sean Connery, when he made The man who would be king.” He held up the small triangular piece of jewellery, it hung round his neck.” “The symbol” gasped the taller man. “Now Mr Fenestrate, can you tell us about your mysterious angel?” They leaned in keen to revel in every word.
“Please don’t leave any detail out Mr Fenestrate.” “Well as I told the paper he was a hells angel. He had a bandana on his head, I think it had union written on it.” The taller man nodded, “do go on sir”. Darren continued his recollection. “Yes he had a stars and stripes tee shirt and”, the two men were on tenterhooks. “He mumbled remember ye are brethren just before the window blew out.” The two men exchanged knowing looks, and simultaneously whispered. “George Washington.” Then clasping his hand to his mouth, the taller one suddenly realised. “Angle on the plane”, and they both turned wide-eyed to Darren. “Mr Fenestrate”, the shorter man drew himself up to almost the shoulder of the other.
“We are representatives of the Masonic world council.” They both looked about furtively. “What I am about to divulge to you is in utmost security, very few people know about our existence.” Darren laughed, “what, the Masons?” But the solemnness of the taller man quietened him. “No sir, the existence of a unified order that controls all the branches in the world. And you.” he paused for effect. “Are the chosen one to lead our members in to greatness, as the new world order is brought in to fruition.” Darren sat on his bed looking down. Then he turned to them. “You’re sure your not Jehovah witnesses then?”
The two men moved forward, and getting down on bended knees chanted. “We hail you oh mighty one, command us and we obey.” Still sceptical, Darren waved a piece of toast he had just picked up. “O.K., if I’m your commander in thingy, you kick him round the room.” To his amazed amusement the two began the bizarre act, which Darren called to a halt almost immediately.
“O.K.” he forced through tears of laughter. “Where are the rest of you? I can’t go around commanding an army of two, they’d put me away. You, what’s your name?” He pointed at the taller one who was rubbing his behind. “Robinson oh great one. You have about six million loyal supporters world wide, with over two million in America alone.” Darren pondered this. “And I suppose these followers are well placed, no unclean bums.” “Oh no great one, all up right fine standing fellows to a man.” Darren paced up and down muttering. “What to do with a well placed army, ready at my beck and call.” Then he smiled, and turned to his two followers.
“An idea, what I need is an idea. I’ll phone mom.” Darren strode over to the bed again, and was soon waiting for her to pick up. “She takes some time to get to the hall. It’s in there”, he explained. “Ah hello mom, I’ve got some gentlemen here. They say I’m the chosen leader of the world order of masons.” His two followers winced. “Yes, six million, I know, hmm.” He paused intent on the voice in his ear. Then he addressed Robinson, “what do you know about Oak Island?” The two men exchanged confused, looks then they had to admit. “We are unaware of such a place, but we can find out if your greatness commands it.” “Then be off”, decreed Darren. Then he turned back to the phone as the men scuttled off. “Yes they’re looking in to it, did you read about my fall from a plane? No, well get a paper.”
The next day Darren welcomed in Robinson and his short friend Simon, with a new man. “Oh great one, this is Arthur Deodar. The records keeper of the Arkansas branch of our order.” The slightly balding man gave a bow of reverence. “He had made a study of Dennis Kings record’s, of the island you spoke of.” Darren cut him off at this point. “Yes I’ve seen the T.V. program about those two brothers, and how they have to leave in the winter time. And I’ve been thinking. If we can go when the water is frozen, wouldn’t it be easier to get out?”
The men were a bit dumb struck at the great one’s knowledge. So he explained about the T.V. show, and they soon caught on. Arthur even suggested “we can get a permit for this. Our brothers in the Halifax branch in Nova Scotia, will have no problem with any paperwork.” Darren beamed over a glass of mulled wine. “I think we’d better keep it low key though. I don’t want any unwanted visitors.”
So a couple of weeks later, as the snow lay deep all around. Darren stood on the small island off Nova Scotia, with a dedicated team of specialists in mining, engineering and archaeology. All masons to a man. They had decided under the guiding hand of Darren, to head strait for the money pit. Where the treasure hunt had begun over two centuries ago. The ninety foot deep hole was long lost. It had been destroyed in all the years of the search for the treasure of Oak Island. But luckily close by to the site of the original hole, stood ten X. The infamous shaft had been constructed by one of the treasure hunters. And that it self had claimed two of the six lives; this island had demanded in payment to reveal its secrets.
The chief engineer turned to Darren. “Oh great one, we have gathered in secret to this spot. No unauthorised people will disturb us, the whole operation is covered by this white tarpaulin.” He indicated overhead, “and baffles shield the coast from any noise we make. The snow lies heavy on the ground I think it is time to begin operations.” So Darren pulled the switch, and the great pipe began to suck the water from the ancient catacombs. The water level began to drop. “You see great one”, explained the engineer. “The extreme cold has frozen the water in the pipes connected to the sea. So no new water will come in.”
After half a day, a bowing engineer entered the great one’s heated trailer. “Oh great one. The water is finally out of the tunnels.” “Excellent, begin shoring up like you explained.” So the job of making safe began. First the initial hole was relined with reinforced concrete rings. Then began the painstaking task of widening and lining the remainder of the shaft, to the chamber below. “It’s all very exciting”, Darren confided to his mother over a mobile phone. “They’ll soon be able to explore the under ground chamber.”
Not too long after that, Darren was taken through the next stage of the operation. “What we have here oh great one”, the expert explained. “Is a drone, with a real time camera and light. So you can see as it fly’s through the tunnel system. All from the comfort of this trailer.” He indicated the monitor. “Very good”, dismissed Darren. Then he sat back to watch his very special episode of the TV show.
Out side the engineers were crowded round another monitor. They too were carefully watching the tiny explorer’s progress, down the tunnel system. But they pointed out places where the roof needed shoring up. “Look a pipe end, I bet that leads back to the sea. We could pump plastic foam into it and seal it water tight.” Then the robot came to a walled off section. And an excited follower burst in to Darren’s trailer. “Oh great one, can you see the symbol of final sealing?” He pointed at the screen. “That has not been used since the time of Ashen Anker, when the pharaohs ruled Egypt.” “Now that’s what I call an exciting program. Can we get a tape for my mom?”
Then he settled down for a late supper. While a team of engineers carried out the shoring up, and sealing work in the tunnels. As dawn broke, the newly explored tunnels on Oak Island were deemed safe for human activity. Darren sat tucking into a hearty breakfast, as the latest episode of this bizarre real life TV show unfurled. The engineers just in front of the camera were drilling through to the sealed chamber.
Then a tiny camera was inserted through the hole. There was a mishmash of objects; it was hard to tell what was in there. But then one engineer came over the radio. “Can you smell that ancient air? This place must have been sealed tight.” Darren leaned in, and spoke to his mike. “Break it down already, the suspense is killing me. You’re getting all this on tape aren’t you?”
So with hammering sounds coming over the radio, Darren waited with bated breath. “I suppose it must be safe,” he thought. While the vibrations from the blows, shook the dust from the ceiling. Then Darren got a shot of an enormous face. It was close up of one engineer, as he gasped in amazement. “What is it?” Demanded the leader of the masonic order.
The camera panned around to reveal the chamber, but then the link was lost. Darren tore from his trailer. “Where’s my show?” he demanded. A nervous looking technician pointed at the now restored transmission. And a placated Darren joined the technical team outside. To see various boxes and artefacts, clearly made of gold. He nodded and called to the crew. “Break out the Champaign, and get it hauled up here.” Then he retreated to the warm trailer, for a drop of the good stuff.
By mid morning all the objects in the chamber had been carefully logged; and passed through the tunnels. Then they were hauled up the shaft, so recently opened up. One box was so big, it only just squeezed through the gap. But finally all the treasure was laid out for Darren to survey. “It’s an impressive haul” Darren commended his loyal followers. “Those two brother will be sick as parrots, when then come back next year.” Then he began to inspect the booty, under the instruction of the chief archaeologist.
“Oh great one, you are the rightful owner of this wealth. After all, it was laid down by our order in the past. See here the enormous wealth gathered for this great day. This wooden cup is said to be the true Holy Grail.” Darren turned it over in his hand and mused. “I think I stick to my cut crystal”, and taking a sip from the glass in his hand moved on. “The arc of the covenant oh mighty one. Reputed to make any army that bore it undefeatable.” Darren peered closer. “It’s a bit smaller than in that film, typical Hollywood show offs.” Next he picked up a gold circle, and placed it on his head. “The crown of king Solomon oh great one.” The informative archaeologist continued. Darren turned to his loyal supporters. “Has anyone seen the man who would be king?”