Chapter 1 - An Enemy of Zion
Appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak.
- Sun Tzu, The Art of War
It had been a busy month. The success of The Juno Letters series in the newspapers and social media opened a whole new world of possibilities for me, and a whirlwind of traveling and activities. A major TV talk show and twenty-something talk-radio broadcasts later, I was exhausted, and glad for the chance to sit down with a cup of coffee at my "office" in the Olympic Club.
"Well, we have a celebrity!" my waitress chided me in a mock serious voice as she stoked the giant wood stove with an alder log as I entered the restaurant. "Don't expect any big-shot treatment in here, mister!"
I just smiled, and when I turned to take my regular seat, I saw a makeshift poster hung on the sidewall next to my regular table that featured the cover of the book "The Juno Letters" and a 3x5 card taped along the short edge that read "THE AUTHOR IS IN" on the exposed side. The snickers in the restaurant made me realize I probably did not want to find out what was on the flip side.
I knew I'd probably be pouring my own coffee for most of the morning today. It was good to be home.
I answered a dozen emails and sat through several impromptu discussions with some of the regulars who invited themselves to interrupt my morning coffee. I had about an hour before I needed to be at the college - just a short walk away - where Dr. Douglas had asked me to join a class seminar. The college's history class had been a valuable partner in uncovering the story of The Juno Letters, and Douglas had folded the experience neatly into the regular curriculum. I had committed a considerable amount of time to Dr. Douglas in exchange for all of his assistance, and spent the morning making notes on the back of a children's coloring page with the pen I stole from the waitress' duty station.
I arose and made my obligatory trip to the massive coffin-like urinals. When I returned, there was a letter laying on top of my note papers. It was sealed, and was addressed only as "HEWITT" in a plain black ink-jet font.
"Do you know who left this?" I asked the waitress who walked by to refill coffee at a nearby table, skipping my half-empty cup.
"No, delivering the mail's not in my job description," she grinned as she otherwise ignored me.
I sat down, and ran the stolen pen up inside the sealed edge laying the envelope open. The letter inside was printed on nondescript stationary paper. The words were printed in the same font as the envelope, in all capitals and bolded.
STOP SPREADING LIES
YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED
THE ENEMIES OF ZION ARE WATCHING YOU
In the lower right hand corner was printed a small reddish-orange cross.
........................................
"Looks like some kind of crackpot. I wouldn't worry too much about it."
The city police chief had joined me for coffee after I had phoned him and told him about the letter. City Hall is just around the corner and it made a good excuse to get put of the office.
"Can't you run the fingerprints or something?"
"Ah, you've been reading a little too much of your own writing. I tell you what. I'll take it back to our crime lab. In the meantime you collect all the used coffee cups and swab them for DNA. Then we'll cross reference the international terrorist DNA database and get a photograph of the perpetrator. I can then put the photo out on Interpol..."
