Scenes from the Secret History (The Secret History of the World) by F. Paul Wilson Read Free Book Online Page A

them.
    He smoothed back his silvery hair and squared his shoulders inside the custom made British tweed shooting jacket.  He often wondered if it was the aura of money he exuded or the burly, weathered good looks that belied his years.  He was proud of both, never underestimating the power of the former and long since giving up any false modesty about the latter.
    Being a Nobel Prize winner had never hurt either.
    He accepted the drink from her and took a healthy gulp, hoping the ethanol would calm his jangled nerves.  The flight had seemed interminable.  But at last they were approaching Idlewilde.  No, it was called Kennedy Airport now, wasn't it.  He hadn't been able to get used to the name change.  But no matter what the place was called, they'd be safely down on terra firma shortly.
    And not a moment too soon. 
    Commercial flights were a pain.  Like being trapped at a cocktail party in you own house.  If you didn't like the company you couldn't just up and leave.  He much preferred the comfort and convenience of his private Learjet where he could call all the shots.  But yesterday morning he’d learned that the plane would be grounded for three days, possibly five, waiting for a part.  Another five days in California among those Los Angeleans who were all starting to look like hippies or Hindus or both was more than he could tolerate.  So he’d bitten the bullet and bought a ticket on this Boeing behemoth.
    For once – just this once – he and Ed were traveling together.
    He glanced at his traveling companion, dozing peacefully beside him.  Edward Derr, M.D., two years younger but looking older, was used to this sort of travel.  Hanley nudged him once, then again.  Derr's eyes fluttered open.
    "Wh -what's wrong?" he said, straightening up in his seat.
    "Landing soon.  Want something before we touch down?"
    Derr rubbed a hand over his craggy face.  "No."  He closed his eyes again.  "Just wake me when it's over."
    "How the hell can you sleep in these seats?"
    "Practice."
    Thirty years of regular attendance together at biological and genetic research conferences all over the world, and never once had they traveled on the same plane.  Until today.
    It would not do to have the pair of them die together.
    Certain records and journals in the Monroe house were not yet ready for the light of day.  He couldn't imagine any time in the near future when the world would be ready for them.  Sometimes he wondered why he didn't simply burn them and have done with the whole affair.  Sentimental reasons, he guessed.  Or ego.  Or both.  Whatever the reason, he couldn't seem to bring himself to part with them.
    A shame, really.  He and Derr had made biological history and they couldn't tell anybody.  That had been part of the pact they’d made that day in the first week of 1942.  That and the promise that when one of them died, the other would immediately destroy the sensitive records.
    After a more than a quarter century of living with that pact, he should have been accustomed to it.  But no.  He’d been in a state of constant anxiety since takeoff.  But at last, the trip was over.  All they had to do was land.  They'd made it.
    Suddenly came a violent jolt, a scream of agonized metal, and the 707 tilted to a crazy angle.  Someone behind them in the tourist section screamed something about a wing tearing off, and then the plane plummeted, spinning wildly.
    The thought of his own death was no more than a fleeting presence.  The knowledge that there would be no one left to destroy the records crowded out everything else.
    "The boy!" he cried, clutching Derr's arm.  "They'll find out about the boy!  He'll find out about himself! "
    And then the plane came apart around him.
     
     
    For the rest… Reborn
     
     
     

    March 1968
     
    Dat-Tay-Vao
     
    The mysterious Dat-Tay-Vao was not always free to wander the globe as it does, hopping from person to person.  Millennia ago it was trapped in an