Genesis

Genesis

Victoria Kreysar

Austin Macauley Publishers

Genesis

About the Author

Dedication

Copyright Information ©

Acknowledgment

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Epilogue

Bibliography

About the Author

Victoria Kreysar is an established scholar and educator. She holds degrees in history and secondary education, graduating with distinction from Mercyhurst University. A former international art dealer, Ms. Kreysar is a noted adventurer and explorer, having worked as a ship hand aboard tall ships and lived for extended periods in Greece, Montenegro, Italy, Spain, Croatia, France, and the Caribbean. When not writing, she spends her time swimming, scuba diving, and enjoying a good book.

Dedication

To my family, Courtney John, and Winnie

Copyright Information ©

Victoria Kreysar (2021)

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Ordering Information

Quantity sales: Special discounts are available on quantity purchases by corporations, associations, and others. For details, contact the publisher at the address below.

Publisher’s Cataloging-in-Publication data

Kreysar, Victoria

Genesis

ISBN 9781647502744 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781647502737 (Hardback)

ISBN 9781647502751 (ePub e-book)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020925022

www.austinmacauley.com/us

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers LLC

40 Wall Street, 33rd Floor, Suite 3302

New York, NY 10005

USA

[email protected]

+1 (646) 5125767

Acknowledgment

Christopher

Chapter One

The professor sat in his office, staring at his computer, not looking at the screen but slightly above it. Pictures, cards, mementos of all kinds hung around him, testaments to accomplishments and relationships that had piled up through the years. Teaching awards and family photos, history jokes given to him by students, class schedules and rubrics, department notices that seemed important at the time, even university letters that were too comical to be legitimate hung from tacks on the corkboards. One small letter sat in the corner just above his computer, lost among the colors of keepsakes deemed worthy to make the cut of the corkboard of memories. Inside, the letter was a handwritten note, and it held the gaze of the professor, scribbled in perfect cursive letters, signed with a six-letter first name and nothing more. His eyes drifted over it often, especially these past few weeks.

He was a sturdy man, standing several inches over six feet, still managing to stand straight and walk without too much trouble, although his bad knee sometimes reminded him of his age. He was not old by any means, but he certainly was not young. The years had been kind to him, only his eyesight and hairline had felt the burden of time. It was more stubbornness than pride which caused him to rarely wear his glasses and shave his hair; simple solutions to somewhat complex problems. He had dark-brown eyes that looked black depending on the lighting, but they lit up when he spoke of things he loved, which he often did. With a deep voice and his somewhat-imposing form, students often hesitated before entering his office or approaching him after a lecture.

The distant thunder outside warned of a summer storm approaching. The professor didn’t mind though; he was safe and dry in his office which smelled of paper, ink, and the tangerines he had a habit of snacking on. The books stacked in floor-to-ceiling bookshelves along the wall opposite to the desk begged to be read, but his eyes knew better than to think they could. One book in particular sat on the top shelf, bound in leather, its pages threatening to bust out of their binding with their contents: secrets, old and new and forbidden. The professor knew he should never write them down, but somewhere in his hasty youthful pursuit, he found himself caught up in research and couldn’t resist the urge to commit the words to paper.

It was all secretive of course, one mystery leading to another, and a lie sprinkled in here and there, not even his research assistant knew the real reasoning behind it. The university had given him money, and who was he to refuse the gift of a research grant?

Being a history professor wasn’t exciting outside of the normal realm of academia. But this, what the professor had in his head, threatened to topple that. Very rarely do ancient texts and ledgers result in a paper that not only gets published but read worldwide. Historians have a slim audience unless they stumble onto something almost magical.

No one would read the journal, no one would even find it or know what they had found. No one but her and perhaps a few others. He made the decision several weeks ago to go public with his knowledge; he figured since it was his own decision, he had control over it still. He could choose what to reveal and what to conceal. Enough to make headlines and attract some attention, but hopefully not too much. He knew the challenge he faced; he was a historian after all, with all that contained, but nothing more.

Numerous papers had been published over the years, all bearing his name and sometimes other colleagues. It was only once he made the mistake of letting their names go before his in a book; after the larger portion of work went to him along with the smallest cut of the royalties, he preferred to work alone. It started out small enough, this project. It was innocent, as most things are. It was a long time ago, but, to historians, time doesn’t matter as much as people think it does.

Five interviews; that was all he was giving. He knew, by the fifth interview, the world would be watching. How could they not be? Only two interviews had been done, and already the world was beginning to buzz, to hum with words and thoughts over his findings.

A news story blared from the screen of the professor’s computer, but, still, his eyes could focus on nothing except the small note on his corkboard.

Sharp knocking on his door jolted him out of his thoughts, finally removing his eyes from the note. He glanced at the clock sitting next to his tired coffeemaker with spilt sugar still crusted beside it.

Yes, it was time for the third interview. The leather chair squeaked in protest as he stood. Before opening the door, he straightened his black dress shirt and glanced down at his gray dress pants, making sure they looked presentable. He was not a vain man, but he liked to look nice. He knew his age walked the fine line between women looking at him and women overlooking him. The gold wedding ring sat uncomfortably on his finger, not used to being worn, although he’d had the same one for over 30 years now, making sure to wear it when necessary.

Today, it was necessary for him to put his best foot forward. The world had to know what he knew, or at least what he was willing to tell.

Chapter Two

Harlow knew she should have tied her shoelaces tighter, but she didn’t have time to worry about her black Chuck Taylor flopping with her feet as she raced down the alleyway. The green numbers from the digital watch on her wrist read 11:39 as they poked out from underneath the black sweatshirt that hugged her slim frame.

Six minutes. She had to stay out of their reach for six more minutes.

The alarm from the jewelry store blared, and she thought the entire portion of the city would be awoken. Damn, that would really mess up her plans. No one ever takes into account the volume of the alarms when planning a robbery, but she made a mental note to add it to her scouting next time. And, she promised herself, there would be a next time.

Harlow was dressed entirely in black, unable to resist the cliché of a thief wearing black; she did, however, manage to refrain from adding the ski mask. She had tried it once but quickly discovered the nighttime was all she needed to hide with. That and a good plan.

Her dark-brown eyes took in the surroundings, her feet never lessening their pace. She knew it was just the adrenaline keeping her going; running was never her forte.

Recognizing the darkest street was to her right, she quickly turned and ran down it, eager to avoid the police and their noisy cars as they tried to catch up to her.

A stack of newspapers sat piled up in front of a small bodega, still open at this hour, but the street was deserted. Without a single sound except the thump of her loose sneaker, Harlow leapt from one stack to the next, jumping with all her might, smiling as she felt her hands connect to the low-hanging fire escape. The heavy book bag protested that gravity was in fact against this plan, but Harlow forced her legs to swing up and over a metal bar until she, and the book bag, were firmly seated on the metal grating. Pulling her hood tighter around her face, she curled up, safely hidden from view.

She checked her watch; only four more minutes. Taking deep breaths to calm herself, she leaned back, feeling the hard cargo still securely locked away inside her backpack. It was, after all, what had gotten her into this mess in the first place.

The door to the bodega opened as the owner, or dedicated employee perhaps, stuck his head outside to see what all the commotion was. Harlow could smell the food from inside, and she realized how hungry she was; she knew heists always made her hungry, but, normally, the adrenaline staved the feeling. Praying her stomach didn’t grumble too loudly in protest while silently thanking the alarm for actually being as loud as it was, she glanced down, wondering if there was perhaps a way she could steal a snack.

It was then she noticed what was smattered on the front page of the newspaper: ‘The Professor Tells All.’ But not just any professor, no, Harlow knew all too well the face giving the camera a half smile that hid his teeth but lit up his eyes.

Her legs screamed in protest as she swung her body backward, hooking her legs over the metal bar but lowering the rest of herself down low enough to grab a loose newspaper before launching herself back up to her hiding place.

It was him all right; she knew him well enough; the name printed below the picture meant nothing to her, but it was strange to see his full name spelled out. She’d only ever called him by that once or twice before he told her not to. They were closer than formal names, closer than a lot of people realized.

She shook the thoughts from her head. If he was talking publicly like this, she needed to talk to him too, before anyone else could. This message wasn’t just for the reporters or their network consumers.

Suddenly, her watch vibrated on her arm, and the countdown of 30 seconds forced her to shove the newspaper into her backpack, next to the stolen gems, and tighten the bag back safely where it belonged. The newspaper would be worth it though, losing the gems. But she would have them both; she was a professional after all.

The watch hit zero, and Harlow heard a loud bang, then water