Article - Laura Knight-Jadczyk
In the two weeks following the end of the Xth Max Born Symposium, Ark undertook the process of cleaning out his office at the University of Wroclaw, the institution that had been a home to him for thirty years. He began to pack his books and papers into large mail sacks of about one hundred pounds each, hauling them on foot, one by one, to the post office, and shipping them to me. When the process was complete, eleven big canvas bags had been mailed, but after five years, only three of them ever arrived. We were, of course, devastated at this loss, and many forms were filled out, and letters exchanged with the Polish and American postal service in an attempt to locate these bags. We could understand the loss of one or two, but to "misplace" eight out of eleven has just simply never been satisfactorily explained. We suspect that this "loss" was similar to the "loss" of the luggage on the return to Poland.
Apparently, someone was noticing the activity. On the day before he was to leave, Ark received a message from his attorney that his ex-wife had sent word that he could come and she would hand over his property that she had stolen from the luggage. Neither one of us believed it; it was a trap. So Ark left instructions for his attorney to inform her attorney that she must turn it over to him, and he would see that Ark got it. She never did.
After his return, Ark spent four months doing research sponsored by the Kosciuszko Foundation. During this period we drove to the University of Florida in Gainesville, the affiliated institution, once a week for a couple of days of meetings, but most of the work was done at home. There were a number of strange "accidents" during these drives, but nothing that couldn't be explained in "normal terms." On one occasion, a truck swerved in front of us, and a huge steel baker's rack just jumped off the back of it and came bouncing violently in our direction with us going 70 mph. We managed to swerve and avoid being hit head on by it, but the tractor trailer just behind us and in the lane to the right wasn't so lucky. In our rearview mirror we witnessed what was almost a multi-car pile-up. We had two blow-outs of brand new tires, and for some reason, the van suddenly developed an undiagnosable heat regulation problem. This led to a couple of strange incidents.
We were just tooling along and all of a sudden the temperature gauge shot up. Fortunately, an exit was just ahead, and we pulled off into a gas station. We parked to the side to wait for the engine to cool, and as we stood outside, stretching our legs, a tall young blond guy in a mechanics uniform came strolling up with his hands in his pockets and asked us out of the blue "Seen any aliens lately?"
I was rather taken aback, to say the least. I had no idea what to say. I was reminded of Terry's experience with the guy who pulled in his driveway with an overheated engine and started talking about electronic ignitions as tracking devices right at the time that he had been discussing it with a friend. Even though the event was probably "set-up" to scare us, all it really did was make us more acutely aware of the truth of what the C's had said at that time:
But more than anything we marveled at the machinations of the Matrix.
During this period of time, we had a number of discussions with C's about the invitation we had received to travel to Mexico. We were becoming more and more aware that the children had become targets - most especially when they felt that extra caution was hampering their social life. The Mexican Gravitational Society was sympathetic to the fact that we could not attend their meeting and leave the children at home, and they graciously agreed to include them in the arrangements. We took the two most vulnerable of the children with us, and following the C's advice, managed to have a safe trip even though my eldest daughter's second auto accident occurred while we were gone.
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