by Mel Odom
Dominic pulled on his mother’s arm. “Momma, come on. Let’s listen to what he has to say.”
“I apologize, ma’am,” Delroy said. “I truly do. I’ve been lost myself for a long time. I’m still trying to find my way back to a lot of things I guess I took for granted.”
Slowly, Phyllis turned around. “It’s rare to meet an honest man, Chaplain. An’ rarer still to meet one what admits his failin’s. But I’ll tell you somethin’: all of us that got left behind, I figure we’re all just a little lost. Maybe it’ll take all of us together to find our way.”
A smile was on Delroy’s lips before he knew it, and lightness dawned in his heart. “Aye, ma’am. I expect you’re right.”
“I got to warn you, Chaplain, I got a powerful lot of questions.” Phyllis brought her children back up to the front of the church.
“Aye, ma’am.” Delroy straightened the pew she’d sat in, then got a chair for himself. He started to talk then, to outline the overall sevenyear period that followed the Rapture. As he talked and discussed God’s Word and God’s plan, he discovered that talking about those things seemed the most natural thing in the world to do.
As he spoke, another young couple appeared outside the church door. They held hands and looked frightened.
Delroy stopped. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“We was just wonderin’,” the young woman said, “if the church was open. We know it’s only Thursday, an’ ain’t no notice been hung, but if the church was open, we wondered if we might come in an’ talk.” She shook her head. “We’ve spent days worryin’ an’ wonderin’ about what’s gonna happen to us. We just want to know what to do.”
Delroy hesitated, uncertain how much responsibility he wanted to take on.
“You come right on ahead, chile,” Phyllis said. “Church is open today.”
10
United States 75th Army Rangers Temporary Post
Sanliurfa, Turkey
Local Time 2056 Hours
“—the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost,” Corporal Joseph Baker said as he reached for the young soldier’s face, then pinched his nose and covered his mouth. They were standing in the water tank Baker used to perform baptisms.
Goose stood at the back of the makeshift church. He leaned a hip against the line of sandbags that had partially converted the church area into a bunker against artillery attacks and tried to find a position that provided relief for his aching knee.
Rain continued to pound the street and the ground. Rivulets of water threaded through the metal chairs and crates and wooden boxes that had been set up to seat the attendees. The generator and the lights had been scavenged from bombed-out buildings in the city.
The church never shut down. Services were held all day and all night, twenty-four hours around the clock. When Baker couldn’t be there because of posting or sleep, other men took his place. Some of them were chaplains, but not all of them. Many had been deacons and youth ministers and Sunday school teachers back home. Some still were. Others had never had much to do with church at all until the last few days. Somehow all those men had been called into service at Baker’s church.
The church had begun small. Now it took up nearly six times the room it originally had. Somehow, though, the church continued to find the room and the means to grow.
One of the nearby buildings had been a restaurant. When the SCUDs fell, the owners had left. Soldiers had come forward and told Baker they wanted to help, and they’d seen to the refurbishing of the restaurant kitchens. Soup and sandwiches were served constantly. No one came to Baker’s church and went away hungry. Not physically and not spiritually.
And that was what everyone had taken to calling the worship place under the pieced-together, salvaged tent material: Baker’s Church.
Goose had mixed feelings about the church. When he was there, he somehow felt closer to Chris, more connected. It felt as if his son were no more than a baseball throw away, ready for Goose to catch up to him at any moment. But he also felt uneasy because being there created friction between Remington and himself. The captain despised the church and Baker, thinking that they created weakness or a zealot’s belief in the men he commanded and relied upon. As a compromise, Goose attended the church, but he let his postings and other responsibilities keep him away probably more than they should have.
The congregation gathered here came from U.S. Army Rangers and the Marine Corps, from the general populace of the city, from the U.N. Peacekeeping teams, and even—surprisingly—from the Turkish army, many of whom were not Christians. At least, they hadn’t been Christians before the war had broken out.
Every time Baker delivered a sermon, he led people to Jesus. Goose had witnessed that call and those who answered at least a halfdozen times. It was always the same. It had been that way tonight after they had finished their postings. Besides the man currently in the water tank, seventeen more stood waiting their turn.
The soldier in the tank held his arms crossed over his chest while Baker talked quietly to him for a moment. The soldier nodded. He wore his BDUs, which were already soaked from the rain that had lasted more than twelve straight hours. His boots and socks stood in front of the tank.
A six-piece band that played mostly in tune stood nearby on empty ammo crates with their instruments in their hands. When Baker finished the latest round of baptisms, they were going back to music to end the evening service.
With deceptive ease, Baker lowered the soldier into the water. The lights shining on the stage area reflected from the water. Two camcorders from media people played over the scene. Apparently their news directors never tired of the footage.
After a brief moment, Baker brought the soldier back up. Goose saw the smile spread across the soldier’s face as tears mixed with the water that ran from his hair down his features. He turned to Baker and hugged him fiercely.
Baker hugged the soldier back, talked to him briefly again, and helped him from the water tank as he would help a child.
The congregation clapped and called out thanks and praise to God and Jesus Christ.
“That’s a moving ceremony,” a feminine voice said at Goose’s side.
Glancing over his shoulder, Goose spotted Danielle Vinchenzo standing halfway in the evening’s shadows. She looked tired and her hair drooped from the moisture in the air.
“Miss Vinchenzo,” Goose greeted.
“You’re a hard man to catch, First Sergeant.”
“I didn’t know you were looking, ma’am.” During the last few hours, Goose had checked through the Rangers to find out what kind of shape his men were in. Knowing Remington would want to put a mission together soon kept Goose active.
Danielle crossed her arms and watched the baptisms as Baker prayed for each individual. “Does he ever sleep?”
“Five hours out of every twenty-four,” Goose replied. “Captain Remington’s orders. But he doesn’t always sleep all five in one shot.”
“How does he do it? I’m dead on my feet and I’m getting seven or eight, with a few catnaps crammed in there for good measure when I can make it happen.”
Goose shook his head. “You’d have to ask Corporal Baker.”
Danielle frowned. “I did. He told me that God was giving him strength.”
“Then I suppose that’s what it must be.”
After a moment watching the baptisms, Danielle said, “You were there when the retreat from the Turkish-Syrian border took place.”
Goose thought about ignoring the statement but couldn’t because it was too impolite. He did feel uncomfortable discussing those events. People who had not been there had trouble understanding what had happened.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“During our discussions, we’ve never talked about that.” Danielle looked at Goose. “Did it happen the way I’ve heard?”
“I don’t know how you heard it, ma’am.”
“I was told that a delayed explosion from an earlier SCUD launc
h brought that mountain down that night,” she said. “And I was told that a demolitions team of Rangers or marines sped up into that mountain and planted explosives so the mountain would come down on the pursuing Syrian troops and block their advance.” She took a breath, her violet eyes searching his. “I also heard that Corporal Baker started reciting the Twenty-third Psalm and God knocked that mountain down on top of the Syrians.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Goose said. “I’ve heard all those stories, too.”
“Which one was it, First Sergeant?”
Goose deliberated, knowing he was stepping into uncertain territory.
“First Sergeant?”
“There was no demolitions team in the mountains,” Goose replied. “There wasn’t time. We were running flat-out when the way got jammed up and we got stuck.”
“So was it a SCUD or was it a psalm?”
“Are you putting this in a story, ma’am?”
Danielle was silent for a moment. “At this point, no. I’m trying to stick with things that I can prove or disprove. And I’m keeping focused on the ongoing war effort. I’m also trying to stay with stories that I understand.” She nodded toward Baker. “That’s why I’ve kept away from stories involving this church.”
“You don’t understand the church?”
“I understand church,” Danielle said. “I just don’t understand this one. I’ve been on battlefields before, but I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“Neither have I,” Goose replied. “But then, we’ve never been involved in military action where a third of the world’s population disappeared overnight either.”
Now that the last person was baptized, the band struck up a modern Christian rock song that soon had everyone clapping and singing along. The sound was spiritually uplifting. If the debris of the city hadn’t started right outside the pool of light given off by the tent church, Goose would have sworn the gathering was more like the tent revivals he’d attended back in Waycross, Georgia.
“You didn’t answer my question, Goose,” Danielle said.
The use of his nickname came across a little too familiarly to Goose. He felt uncomfortable because of the questions and because of the attention the woman gave him.
“Was it a SCUD or a psalm?” Danielle repeated.
“Ma’am,” Goose said, “I never heard an explosion up in that mountain that night. I heard the voices of those men trapped up there, all of them probably certain they were going to die. And in the next moment, that mountain fell.”
“Like the walls of Jericho.” Danielle smiled.
“I wasn’t at Jericho. I couldn’t say.”
“Why is the CIA so interested in you?”
Goose looked at her, knowing instinctively from the confident tone in her voice that she knew something. “I don’t know.”
“You’re not going to deny that they are interested in you?”
“Do you want me to, ma’am?”
A surprised grin fitted itself to Danielle’s face. “I wouldn’t believe you.”
Goose didn’t say anything.
“Did you know that even now as we speak one of CIA Section Chief Cody’s agents is watching you from across the street?” Danielle’s smile turned superior and mocking.
Looking at her, Goose said, “Are you referring to the agent on the second floor of the building directly across from us? Or are you talking about the agent on top of the building to the northeast? And unless I’m mistaken, a third agent comes by in a Toyota four-wheeldrive pickup every half hour or so. I’m sure he’s the transport part of the surveillance team.”
Danielle’s eyebrows rose. “Okay, I’m impressed. I spotted the one guy because I recognized him from earlier.”
“From where?”
“The burning building that came under terrorist attack.” Danielle gazed at him coolly, the hanging lights from the church reflecting in her eyes. “The one where you carried the man out and placed him in a jeep while all the other survivors were taken to the hospital or released.”
Goose didn’t say anything. He shifted uncomfortably, realizing his knee felt like it was about to explode. “As I recall, you didn’t know the man’s name when we talked earlier.”
“Which man?” Danielle asked. “The one you carried out of that building and disappeared with?”
Goose avoided that topic for the moment. “The CIA agent you were talking about that morning.”
Danielle gazed at him as if taking his measure. “Things have changed since I talked with you yesterday.”
Goose waited, curious now at how much she knew. If she had managed to somehow identify Icarus, she could be a danger to herself as well as to the double agent.
“I didn’t get any joy from you,” Danielle said, “so I sent Cody’s picture to a friend of mine at OneWorld NewsNet.”
“You had a camera?”
“Of course. I never go anywhere without one.”
“I’ll remember that in the future.”
Danielle nodded. “I hope that in the future we’re working on the same side.”
Goose didn’t say anything.
“My friend at OneWorld NewsNet was young,” Danielle said.
“You’re young,” Goose stated.
“Lizuca was younger than me,” Danielle said. “She was bright and intelligent and one of the friendliest people I’ve ever met.”
Was. For the first time Goose realized that Danielle was talking about her friend in the past tense. He attributed the miss on his part to fatigue and his aching knee. A knot of apprehension stirred in his guts.
“She helped support her mother and her sister financially,” Danielle said. “The economy in Romania is still problematic. I’d been giving her some overtime, which she loved because that gave her a little extra money to spend on herself, and she learned more about the news business. She was hoping to get the chance to move to America.”
The band played another lively rock song that seemed at odds with the story Danielle was telling. “Yesterday my coordinator at OneWorld NewsNet ordered Lizuca off the assignment I’d given her.”
“That person knew what she was doing?” Goose asked.
“Stolojan only knew that I had asked her to find out the name of the man in the picture I’d sent her.”
“Had Lizuca identified Cody then?”
“Lizuca—“ Danielle’s voice broke—“Lizuca never identified Cody as far as I know. A couple hours after I sent her Cody’s picture, she was dead. Someone tracked her to the cybercafé, where she worked when she was away from OneWorld, and brutally murdered her. Shot her down in front of several people.”
Goose drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Suddenly the idea of Cody’s three agents stalking him wasn’t as insignificant as he’d first thought. But he still didn’t think they meant him any harm. Otherwise they would have already tried. There had been opportunities before now. He believed they were watching him in hopes of catching Icarus, using him as bait. Taking three men out of Cody’s troops had improved Icarus’s chances of getting away or remaining hidden, whichever the man had intended.
“Was the gunman identified?” Goose asked.
“No.”
Goose rubbed his jaw, thinking the problem over and evaluating the parameters of it. “I don’t think Cody keeps an agent in Romania.”
“I don’t either. He could have hired someone, though.”
“And cut a deal that quick?” Goose shook his head.
“But who would let Cody know Lizuca was searching for him?”
“She was searching OneWorld NewsNet’s archives when she was killed,” Danielle said. “For the murderer to show up there, they had to be tracking her from the link to OneWorld NewsNet.”
Considering that, Goose knew that only one conclusion could be drawn. He was certain that Danielle had already made the same one.
“Someone at OneWorld NewsNet tipped off the killer,” Goose said. “How did you identify Cody?”
“I went through another sourc
e.”
“Who?”
Danielle shook her head. “I don’t even know. The person I contacted remains hidden.”
“But you can trust this person?”
Her eyes flashed. “I got Cody’s name, didn’t I? And you haven’t bothered to deny it, so I know I’ve got that name right. If that’s right, then the rest of what I learned must be right.”
“How did that person get the name?”
After a brief hesitation, she replied, “The initial information came from OneWorld NewsNet. The CIA files after that.”
“No one noticed?”
“There was an incident. Someone tracked my information specialist back to a false address in Australia that was being used. A man showed up at that address within minutes. But by then the person searching for Cody’s name had already broken into OneWorld’s hidden files and gotten the information we were looking for. Some of the information.”
“Can your information specialist be tracked any further?”
“I was told no.”
“Whoever tipped the killer about Lizuca knows that you put her up to that search. They’re going to figure you’re at least involved in the second one. Going after that information again so soon could have been a mistake.”
Danielle’s tone grew short. “Don’t you think I thought about that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Goose answered. “I just wondered if you thought about it before or after the incident.”
Some of her anger dissipated.
“The information specialist you were using for the second attempt should have known that too,” Goose stated. “I don’t know how professional that person is—”
“Good enough to get into OneWorld’s computers as well as the CIA’s.”
“Yes, ma’am. I understand that. But he was also good enough to call the dogs down on you. If they sent a man after him, intending to do what was done to your friend, they may well come after you.”
Danielle nodded. “I know.” She hesitated. “I’m scared.”
“Do you believe you’re in danger?”