forceps,” said Parker, clicking around on his computer.
“The water’s not that hot,” said Sage.
“I have no doubt that you can handle the temperature. But I think it’s skin,” said Parker, seemingly enjoying the position in which Sage was currently placed.
Sage made a face of disgust but did as instructed. “Okay, I got some tweezers.”
“Gently grab the skin and flip it over in the solution,” directed Parker.
Sage did as Parker requested. The skin was slowly beginning to absorb liquid and softening. After a bit of time in the mini-Jacuzzi, the skin was hydrated and pliable in the middle. The edges remained curled up like the crust of a fancy French galette. It reminded Sage of beef jerky, and the thought caused him to become disgusted. Now that the skin was flexible, he gently poked at it with the forceps—he sank it and watched it float back to the top of the small bowl. After a few dips in the container, he flipped the skin over. The edges unfurled so that the skin lay like a raft in the water and oil concoction.
“What do you see?” questioned Parker excitedly.
“It looks like a military chevron for a private first class…There is something under it.”
“What, two crossed rifles?” Parker teased.
Sarcastically, Sage quipped back, “You’re funny…No, bro—it looks like a fang.”
“Sage, if this is legit, this is huge.”
“Okay, so from a historical perspective…what’s your take?” asked Sage.
“Let me throw out a hypothesis, and I will probably have more for you later. But consider this: the chevron looks like a chevron because that is what it is…and I think it is shoulder meat.” Parker sniffed and sucked air through his teeth.
“Is that your professional opinion, or are you trying to be funny?”
“I think this is skin cut from the deltoid of one of these executioners,” replied Parker.
“Ah, okay…shoulder meat. All those degrees and you say shoulder meat,” joked Sage. “So you think this guy had a military rank?”
Chapter 16
Sage and Parker were deeply embroiled in the work of the researcher, and Sage was mentally preparing for what may be a conspiracy theory coming from Parker.
“I am wondering if this skin is from a person that was in one of the first military positions. Or maybe like militia or a PMC.”
Sage turned to train his voice directly on the phone. “Really?” said Sage sarcastically. “An ancient private military corporation?”
“The researcher said that the person was considered an apex predator. He mentioned that this person was kept at a distance and summoned during critical situations and wartime. Sounds like a PMC to me.”
“Hmm…”
“So you got this package at your door, and this drive was in the package…”
“Yeah.”
“In my experience, packages are only left at doors by three kinds of people: ones that we paid to deliver packages, people that dislike us and want us to step on a flaming package of—”
Sage interrupted, “Parker!”
Parker snickered but continued—now taking on a serious tone. “And those that wish to help us. Since the first file encrypted was not that hard to crack, I am going to say that someone is trying to help. Or maybe I am just a genius at breaking encryption,” said Parker as he again picked up a jovial tone.
“Okay. So how does this help us?”
“We have to find a connection.”
“To what?” asked Sage. “We have some random items.”
“That is what is bothering me.”
“Okay, talk to me. Tell me what’s on your mind,” said Sage.
Parker was uncharacteristically reticent. After a long pause, he slowly spoke, “Okay, you lose your mom, and no one knows anything. You lose your girl, and they hit walls. But now, we have this research.”
“Not tracking you, Parker…”
Parker, now switching the topic, added, “Just thinking out loud, bro… What if the translation is wrong?”
“Why would you think that?” asked a confused Sage.
“When we translate from language to language, the context is usually pretty accurate, but the words are not always accurate. Veni. Vidi. Vici…” Parker trailed off, sounding just a bit distracted.
“‘I came, I saw, I conquered.’ Everyone knows this—especially military folks and students studying Latin,” added Sage. Sage was tapping the forceps on the edge of the glass bowl, creating a soft clank.
“Okay, so the translation is ‘I came, I saw, I conquered.’ That is how we translate it into English. How many people speak Latin these days?” Parker asked.
“Mostly clergy and college students, I imagine,” added Sage.
“Right. You ever play telephone?” Parker’s smile could be heard coming through the phone.
“Sure. It is where we are given a phrase to repeat to others. It can change over time and during the transport of the message.”
“My point exactly. We don’t know the context of the markings. We are unaware of the thought process of this tribe or even the thought process of the researcher. Remember that this will influence how we see and perceive things.”
“You are saying that the message on the drive is not the message?” Sage asked, trying to follow Parker’s train of thought.
“Oh, it’s the message,” replied Parker.
“Wait, what?”
“Translation, my man, translation,” Parker added with just a tinge of hubris. Parker leaned back in his chair.
“Okay, what did we miss?” questioned Sage.
“What if the researcher was right?”
“Then what’s the problem? Are you intentionally being cryptic?” asked Sage.
“What if the context was right, but the translation was incorrect?” said Parker.
Sage sucked in the sides of his mouth, gently bit the inside of his cheeks, and squinted. “How? Why would the translation be wrong but the context accurate? That seems backward.”
“The researcher said tribal executioner or apex predator,” said Parker.
“I heard that as well.”
