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“Doodads?”
“That’s the technical term.”
“I suspect possibly a quarter of the world’s gold supply, some of which is mine, is being housed there along with the doodads.”
“And you’ve reached this conclusion on the basis of five words written on a piece of paper?”
“Correct.”
I’m hooked up with a fruitcake, Riley thought. The man takes the term “loose cannon” to a whole new level. He’s a loose cannon with a bunch of nuts and bolts missing.
“I’d feel better about this road trip if you had something a little more concrete driving your gold theory,” Riley said.
“Sometimes one must take a leap of faith,” Emerson said. “Follow the yellow line.”
Riley blew out a sigh and headed down Interstate 81. She hadn’t driven a monster like the Redhawk in years, and she’d forgotten how cumbersome they were to maneuver. The reaction time was slow on the brakes and steering, and gusting wind rocked it side to side.
They stopped for lunch in Tennessee, and Riley studied the map while she ate her bacon cheeseburger. Emerson had chosen a southern route taking them through Nashville, Oklahoma, and the Texas panhandle. They’d be passing very close to Bishop Hills, her hometown. It would be tempting to stop in and see her family, but Riley couldn’t see it happening. They were supposed to be off the grid. She knew that included more than electronics. It included family. And most important, she didn’t want to put them in jeopardy.
“What are we going to do when we get to you-know-where?” Riley asked Emerson.
“Look around.”
“I am not breaking into any more gold vaults.”
“I doubt the gold is kept in a normal vault,” Emerson said. “That would be too obvious.”
“I’m also not breaking into a high-security military installation,” Riley said.
“We’ll see.”
“No! There’s no ‘we’ll see.’ People get shot doing things like that. And it’s very against the law. What would the Siddhar think of that?”
“I haven’t spoken to the Siddhar about it.”
“Who is this guy anyway? Is he like Yoda?”
“He’s more like Master Po. From Kung Fu Panda.”
“Okay, but what is he like? Where does he come from? How old is he?”
“He’s like himself. I don’t know how old he is or where he comes from. He lives in a monastery outside Port Blair in the Andaman Islands.”
“How did you meet him?”
“It was when I was sailing around the world. I dropped anchor at Corbyn’s Cove in the Andamans. He was in the water. I saved him from drowning.”
“Drowning? If he was so wise, why didn’t he know how to swim?”
“Why don’t I know how to drive? There are some holes in everyone’s knowledge. The point is that I was lost. I was wandering. He saved me, as well.”
“I can see that.”
“He is still teaching me many things. The traditional medicine of the villages of Tamil Nadu. The varmam martial arts. The ultimate goal is to attain the videha mukti.”
“What’s that?”
“Leaving the body at the time of death. To attain an unbroken union with the divine and blend into the transcendent Self.”
