Read Lost Past for Free Online Page A

turned to John and asked, “What are they saying?”
                  John was surprised at Linda’s question, but clearly, Tom wasn’t. How did she know he understood, and why wasn’t Tom surprised she knew? He decided to ignore his own questions and answer Linda’s. “They are telling him to come with them and he is refusing. He wanted them to save all the passengers.”
                  Linda asked, “What language is it?”
                  “I don’t know the word in English. I don’t know anything about it, I just understand it.”
                  John’s phone went off and caller ID identified Eric Schwartz. “I am going to deliver Arthur’s message to the FBI,” Eric said. “I didn’t erase it. Actually, I never erase any messages.”
                  “Of course,” John replied. “If you send them to me, I’ll translate.”
                  After telling Tom and Linda about Eric’s phone call, realizing he was disobeying Arthur’s warning, he said, “Your father told me I should continue acting as I had been, rather than behave naturally. I don’t have a clue as to how he knew I wasn’t acting naturally, but I apparently gave him some information about my past.”
                  “You’re going to tell the government everything?” Tom asked him.
                  “Yes. I’ve told you and I’ll tell them.”
                  “And you don’t have any secrets from us?” Tom asked, with a glance at Linda.
                  “All my secrets are so well hidden that I don’t know them myself,” John replied wryly.
     
                  The authorities arrived less than two hours later, and took John to a very secure-looking building. After descending to a subfloor and going down a corridor, John was escorted into a room obviously designed for interviews, with a window that was mirrored on his side. He was left alone in the room with Special Agent Wilson who wa s seated at a table and didn’t rise on his entrance. “I would like you to listen to something,” he said in the pleasant baritone he remembered from his hospital interview. Wilson pressed a button on a recorder and Arthur Saunders’ voice was heard in the background.
                  “Can you translate it?” Wilson asked.
                  “Yes,” John answered promptly. He made his decision hours ago. “The first speaker says, ‘ What are you doing? You’re killing people.’ Can I hear the recording again?”
                  “Just a minute.” Wilson stepped out of the room and seconds later, another man entered with him. He was introduced simply as Kowalski, but John quickly surmised he was a linguist. Kowalski was probably only a half a dozen years older than Wilson, whom John guessed to be about thirty, but where Wilson moved with the grace and strength of someone who worked out regularly, Kowalski moved as little as possible and acted like getting out of a chair was the most exercise he ever did. They made an odd couple, with Kowalski’s pale flabbiness and long unkempt hair contrasting sharply with Wilson’s muscled body, dark brown skin, and shaved head.
                  After finishing with the brief translation of the satellite phone call, Wilson played the recording of Arthur’s phoned warning, which John translated. Kowalski and John analyzed the translation word for word. He gave a translation of each word and discussed tense, case, and rules of grammar. Kowalsk i said at one point, “I notice you don’t pronounce the words the same way as Saunders did. Why?”
                  “He has a thick accent.”
                  “And you don’t?”
                  “I don’t think so.”
                  “You don’t know?” asked Kowalski skeptically.
                  “Why