Free Serpent of Moses by Don Hoesel Page B

psyche. It was yet another testament to the strength granted by experience, as well as by the God Jack was now firmly convinced had orchestrated it all.
    “Why am I here, Martin?”
    The question was answered by silence, and after waiting for the Englishman to break it, Jack closed his eyes. He had just started to surrender to sleep when Templeton finally spoke.
    “What happened in Australia?” he asked.
    Jack couldn’t process the question right away, but it wasn’t because it was entirely unexpected. Rather, the query startled him because it felt as if Templeton was intruding on a dream Jack hadn’t shared with anyone. It was like the Englishman had invaded his thoughts.
    “I’ve been in Australia on several occasions,” Jack said. “It’s a great country. Have you ever been to Bondi?”
    Templeton smiled. “Three years ago you were teaching at Evanston University. A month later you’re arrested in Australia after a double murder.” Templeton took his eyes off the stars long enough to catch Jack’s eye. “Then all the charges are dropped and you’re gallivanting around the globe as if nothing happened.”
    Jack absorbed that and, after a time, grunted an admission to the general accuracy of Templeton’s recounting of events.
    “I wouldn’t say gallivanting. ”
    Templeton shrugged.
    “Suddenly you were in a cave in Libya trying to steal something from me,” he said. “Call it whatever you want.”
    “Fair enough,” Jack said.
    “Do you know that the Australian government has a Freedom of Information Department that’s a lot like the American one?”
    “No, I didn’t know that.”
    “Yes, well, they do. And do you know what I found when I submitted a request for the records involving your case?”
    “That they were going to charge you an enormous processing fee?”
    “That no such records exist.” Templeton let that hang there a moment before continuing. “It didn’t matter that I could show them news articles that talked about the killings. Or pictures of you in handcuffs. As far as the Australian government was concerned, you were never there.”
    “Has it ever occurred to you that maybe they’re just bad at keeping records? Besides, why should you care about what I do with my spare time?”
    Jack was growing used to the long pauses in his conversations with the Englishman, but there was something different about the one that followed his question. He could sense the iciness coming from Templeton’s direction, could feel that he’d said something that had changed the man’s mood as if flipping a switch. And he could tell that the new emotional state was not one he wanted Templeton to act on.
    “Let’s just say that I’ve always been intrigued by puzzles,” Templeton answered.
    And with that, he closed his eyes and didn’t speak again.

    Imolene had to give the shopkeeper credit. The Yugo had lasted far longer than he would have thought possible, carrying him well past Al Bayda and toward Tripoli. He’d chosen to retain the vehicle when, in stopping in Al Bayda to check in with those who knew most of what went on in the city, he’d learned that two men matching Templeton’s and Hawthorne’s description had passed through there, ostensibly aiming toward the capital. And so Imolene had decided to hang on to the Yugo rather than use up precious time in finding a different vehicle. He was also lower on funds than he liked, and until he caught up to his quarry, he had to make his money stretch.
    In Tripoli, the tracking had become much more difficult. It took Imolene some time to conclude it was because the pair had not stopped within the city. That was the only explanation he could come up with that would explain their absence from any of the places Templeton may have gone to procure supplies, or from the notice of those charged with monitoring the city’s ingress and egress of outsiders.
    He had not gone all in on the idea. In a city as large as Tripoli, Imolene thought it