The Adam Enigma by Mark; Ronald C.; Reeder Meyer Read Free Book Online Page B

by his father from around the world. Ramsey senior had been a physical geographer and his appreciation of cartography was not lost on his only son. For that I am grateful , Ramsey thought.
    Cradling the brandy snifter in both hands, he studied the last picture of his father before he suffered a massive, fatal heart attack in Ramsey’s junior year in high school. It hung in a frame over the mantle. His father’s face was sallow, the eyes hollowed, the once-sharp neckline layered under fat. It was taken while he was standing in his study, one hand resting pretentiously on a globe of the world and the other inside his favorite blue-checked waistcoat. It was a pose he’d always wanted to make, standing like the nineteenth-century-British Empire’s imperious Prime Minister, Benjamin Disraeli. After the picture, he had wheezed into the chair behind his desk and clucked at his son’s disapproving frown as he pulled out a cigar from the humidor on the shelf behind. “I’m a dying man so give me my pleasures and listen to my advice,” his father had said. After lighting up, he leaned back into the soft leather and blew a smoke ring into the air, and said thoughtfully, “Jonathan, geography is the one reliable way of making sense of what is happening in the world, and it will be the overarching field of the twenty-first century.” He had died a week later.
    â€œSo what would you do, old man? Would you take this job?” Ramsey asked, nodding toward the picture.
    He could hear his father’s old chuckle, the same laugh when he’d asked him to sign the permission slip to play football in junior highschool. The old man had lit one of his cigars and said, “Jonathan, you have both rationality and intuition. When they come together, you’ll know how to decide.”
    Ramsey reviewed Myriam’s offer for the hundredth time since leaving New Mexico. His rational side told him to accept the challenge. I could take the job. Businesswise there is neither gain nor risk . The two young staffers in his company, recent geography graduates from the University of Kansas, could handle the campaign in Ecuador to incentivize locals to preserve a large portion of the unique rain forest ecosystem. Both were familiar with his methodology and strategies. Also businesswise, Ron Grange could handle the upcoming D.C. and LA meetings on resource use in the Arctic. The only possible hiccup was the weekly undergraduate seminar on the geopolitics of newly emerging ethnic and religious identities he was teaching at Grinnell College. But his co-teacher could easily handle the class.
    Ramsey took a sip of brandy, savoring the mellow sweetness. On the other hand, his gut feeling was unclear. Better not to peek behind old doors.
    He set the brandy onto a low table. The wall clock said twelve thirty. It was still not too late to call the one person who could give him the perspective he needed. Picking up his phone, he punched in a number. It answered quickly, not going to voice mail. A dry chuckle and then, “Jonathan.”
    It was good to hear his old mentor’s voice.
    Ramsey rode down Main Street to the Frontier Café. The day was windless, but gray clouds covered the sky and there was a hint of an early spring snowstorm in the sharp sting of the air. Leaning his bike against the rack out front, he glanced inside. Professor Orensen was already waiting for him at their favorite table.
    The professor had two PhD’s—a doctorate in divinity and another in political science. Most importantly, he was the man who had steered Ramsey to follow in his father’s footsteps. Now an emeritus professor of religious studies and international relations, he had changed little since Ramsey walked into his class over twenty yearsago. That first day he had noticed the man’s shock of white hair that rolled behind his ears and down his back in long braids. He was thin and ramrod straight and dark