Soul Reader Series: Book1: Touch Enabled

by Dante Lupinetti

  Before leaving the park, they stopped in a Christmas shop for some hot chocolate. Once served, they sat at one of the sidewalk tables. There, they overheard an old man at the next table reciting his unusual rendition of Psalm 23 as he watched the groups of children with their parents and the young lovers walk by observing the lights and festivities of the Christmas season.

  The old man recited: “The Lord is not my shepherd. All I do is want. There are no green pastures; He leads me nowhere. He restores nothing. He guides me nowhere. When I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear everything because he does not exist. Thy rod and Thy staff, they do not comfort me. Thou preparest nothing for me. Thou hast anointed my head with nothing. Surely hopelessness and despair will follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell nowhere forever.”

  “Oh,” said Zeke. “That’s so sad. He’s reciting his own version of Psalm 23.”

  “What?” asked Abby.

  “The man at the table next to us is looking for hope in the trappings of Christmas, and he concludes his quest with his perverted version of Psalm 23.”

  Zeke bowed his head and began to pray quietly.

  “What are you doing?” asked Abby.

  “I’m praying for him, that he would believe in the Christ of Christmas, in the King of Kings, and find peace. You know, we’re not kids anymore,” said Zeke.

  “What do you mean?” asked Abby.

  “All the lights, they would have been enough. They would have been enough when I was a child,” said Zeke. “But, without the real Christ, they’re just empty, iconoclastic symbols of Christmas. One Christmas, when I was a kid, I looked at a ceramic Santa Claus that my mom was putting away after the holidays. I looked and looked half expecting to hear a hearty laugh or see a twinkle in his eye. But all I saw was the ceramic shell. Then, I realized that it was just a trinket of Christmas to be pulled out and put away with the arrival and departure of the season. It was the King of Kings who gave it meaning. It sounds childish, I know.”

  Abby leaned across the table and stared into Zeke’s dark blue eyes. “It’s not childish,” she said. Zeke leaned in and stared into her baby blues. Their noses touched, their eyes closed, and finally their lips met in a passionate kiss.

  After a few minutes they got up from the table and resumed their walk to the park’s entrance. Abby reached out and took Zeke’s hand, leaned into his body, and laid her head upon his shoulder as they walked.

  When they got back to the entrance, they caught the tram to the parking area. They got in Zeke’s truck, and he drove. Abby slid over by Zeke, snuggled up and fell asleep the rest of the ride home.

  They arrived at Abby’s house at 11:00 pm. Zeke had to wake her to walk her to the door. He held her in his arms on the doorstep as they stared into one another’s eyes. After one last kiss, Abby slowly left his arms, the palm of her right hand lingering on the palm of his left hand in a wistful good night.

  10

  Sunday Morning

  The next morning, Zeke woke at 5:00 am to the sound of his phone ringing. It was the Sunday before Thanksgiving. He recognized the number on his cell. It was Agent Johnson.

  “Zeke,” said Agent Johnson. “Something has changed. I can’t talk much over the phone. I’m sending a car to pick you up and bring you to Langley. It’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  “I’ll be ready,” replied Zeke.

  Zeke got dressed, brushed his teeth, and ate a yogurt while waiting for the car. Zeke kept looking at his front window. When he saw a black suburban pull up, he went out to meet it. He was greeted by Agent Johnson in the back seat.

  “Zeke, get in,” said Agent Johnson, who handed him a cup of coffee in a to-go cup. “One cream, no sugar, right?”

  “Yes, thanks.”

  There were two other men in the vehicle besides the driver. “Zeke, this is Secret Service Agent White. You’ve already met Secret Service Agent LaDividico.”

  After Zeke got in, the suburban sped away with a Secret Service escort.

  “By the way,” said Agent Johnson, “wait for us to knock on your door next time. You don’t know who could be in the vehicle. Zeke, we have Abdul Muti Poya in custody. CIA and Secret Service brought him in. As you know, we’ve been surveilling him for several weeks now. Yesterday, he broke silence with his handlers. We discovered that the assassination plot originally scheduled for Thanksgiving has been moved up. We don’t know exactly when or where it will take place. We want you to interview him. We want you to find out when and where the plot will go down. Can you handle it?”

  “Yes,” said Zeke. “I got ya covered. I’ll find out when and where.”

  “Son,” said Agent Johnson. “You pull this off and I’ll make sure the president pins a medal on you.”

  “No medals,” said Zeke. “A greet and a handshake would be appreciated, though.”

  They pulled into Langley at 7:00 am. The parking lot was half full. Agent Johnson and the two Secret Service agents rushed Zeke up to the second floor. They directed him into an interrogation room.

  “We’ll bring Abdul in shortly,” said Agent Johnson. “As usual, we’ll be listening, recording, and viewing from behind the glass.”

  As Zeke sat waiting, he contemplated his approach. The agency wanted to put Abdul on a polygraph machine and have a qualified polygrapher operating the machine while Zeke was questioning him, but Agent Johnson talked them out of it. He thought it would spook Abdul out of answering and defeat the purpose of having Zeke there in the first place. Zeke did not think it would make any difference. After all, his gift was divine in nature, not to be affected by a man-made polygraph machine. But Agent Johnson did not want to take that chance.

  Agent Johnson escorted Abdul into the interrogation room and removed his handcuffs. Zeke and two armed guards were in the room.

  “Hey!” said Abdul. What are you doing here?”

  “That’s a long story,” said Zeke. “They think I might know something about you since I’ve been covering you and your group for the last month. They’ve been monitoring your apartment for a couple of months now. Let’s just have some chitchat, and I think they’ll let us go when they figure out that I don’t know anything more than I reported on.”

  Zeke extended his hand to Abdul in a gesture of friendship. Abdul reluctantly reciprocated. After locking hands, the two made eye contact.

  Abdul tried to retract his hand but could not. “Let me go,” cried Abdul.

  “After I ask you some questions,” said Zeke.

  Abdul struggled, but one of the guards grabbed Abdul’s shoulders forcing him into the chair while the other guard held his arm in an extended position.

  “That’s not necessary,” said Zeke. “He can’t get free until I release him. This power is not physical.”

  The guards insisted and continued to restrain Abdul.

  Then, Zeke was confronted by the demon, Legion. The creature coiled around Abdul’s body as it had before. It reared its three viper-like heads back and hissed at Zeke.

  “What do you want?” asked Legion.

  “I want to talk to Abdul,” replied Zeke.

  “We indwell him. Abdul serves us.”

  “The Holy Spirit indwells me,” replied Zeke.

  “You may proceed. Do us no harm,” said Legion.

  “Tell me, Abdul, have you been in contact with Mohammed al Qahtari?”

  “Yes,” replied Abdul.

  “Was Mohammed al Qahtari involved in the Thanksgiving assassination plot of the president?”

  Abdul stammered trying to prevent himself from responding. “N…n…n…n…ah. Yes,” replied Abdul.

  “Was that plot changed?

  Again, he stammered. “N…n…n…n…ah. Yes,” replied Abdul.

  “What was changed?”

  “I don’t know,” he replied.

  “Was it the place and time?” asked Zeke.

  “N… n…n…n…ah. Yes,” replied Abdul.

  “What is the new place and ti
me?”

  Abdul struggled trying to break free but could not. Then, he spurted out something they could barely understand.

  “Did he say Tyson?” asked Zeke.

  “That’s what it sounded like to me,” said a guard.

  “Tyson what?” asked Zeke, tightening his grip on Abdul. “Tyson Foods?”

  “At the corner,” stammered Abdul.

  “Tyson at the corner,” said Zeke.

  “Tyson’s Corner,” said a guard. “The place is Tyson’s Corner.”

  “Where at Tyson’s Corner?” asked Zeke.

  “Church,” stammered Abdul.

  “When?” demanded Zeke as he gripped even tighter.

  “Today,” stammered Abdul.

  Agent Johnson’s voice boomed over the intercom. “Zeke, we got it. We figured it out. It’s Tyson’s Corner Bible Church at this morning’s ten am service. The vice president attends this church regularly, and today he is taking the president with him. The Secret Service and FBI have been notified. The CIA along with the Secret Service and FBI will go to the church to apprehend the assassins, but the president will not be there. The president and vice president will just have to miss church today.”

  11

  Meet Up at the Church

  Agent Johnson called Zeke into the observation room filled with Secret Service, CIA, and FBI staff.

  “Wow,” said Zeke. “I had no idea all these people were watching.

  “We didn’t want to scare you,” said Agent Johnson. “You impressed a lot of people today at the Agency and in the Secret Service. I’m proud of you, Zeke. We all are. But we’re the silent service. We risk our lives and few people know about it. So, don’t expect to see your name in the newspaper.”

  “That’s fine with me,” said Zeke, “but can you let me get a jump on the story for WJOP? I promised my boss that, whenever possible, he’d be the first to know on a good news story.”

  “Sure, Zeke,” said Agent Johnson. “Just run it by me first.”

  “No problem,” said Zeke.

  “By the way, the CIA Director said he would arrange a meeting with the president and vice president. We’re sure that when they find out what you did, they will seriously want to meet you. But the press will not know.”

  Agent LaDividico made his way to a black suburban vehicle. There was one other plainclothes agent in the suburban in addition to Agent LaDividico. He carried a P229 handgun chambered in a .357 SIG caliber. Agent LaDividico, who was driving, also carried the same. There were two uniformed Secret Service Agents armed with Heckler Koch MP5A3 9 millimeter machine guns.

  “OK, gentlemen, listen to me,” said Agent LaDividico. “We’re taking the Tyson’s exit. We’ll be at the church in about five minutes. The parking lot is in the front of the church building. We’ll park four blocks away so as not to alert the enemy. The church has a security detail, and I’ve phoned ahead to let them know we’re coming. State police and local police have been informed and are on alert but not on the premises. I have asked them to maintain their distance. I’ll signal them when to move in.

  “From Zeke’s interview with Poya, we know there will only be two enemy combatants including the assassin. The enemy wants this to be a surgical, precision strike, in and out. Intel tells us that they don’t want to draw attention to themselves. We have no reason to believe that they are going to explode a bomb or do anything that would draw attention to themselves. Our primary concern here is that no harm comes to the congregation. I’ve asked the church staff to conduct their ten am service normally and they’ve agreed. When the enemy figures out that the president and vice president have not shown up, they will make their way out of the building. When they get outside, that’s when we’ll take them down.”

  They arrived four blocks away from the church and jumped out of the vehicle.

  “Let’s go. On my six. Double time to the parking lot,” said Agent LaDividico. “Agent White, you bring up the rear and keep your eyes scouring the area for any enemy getaway vehicles.

  “There’s a man in a black car looking very suspicious,” radioed Agent White ahead to Agent LaDividico. “I think that’s the getaway car. I don’t think he’s spotted us yet.”

  “Take him down. We can’t risk him radioing the assassins,” said LaDividico.

  White approached the car from the driver’s side, his gun drawn. “Hands where I can see them, and don’t touch that radio. Get out of the car slowly,” shouted Agent White. Agent White handcuffed him.

  Agent White radioed Agent LaDividico. “I got him.

  “Good work”, said Agent LaDividico. “I’ll radio FBI to detain him, so you can continue to assist us.”

  When the FBI arrived, White put the combatant in the back seat of their car and they drove away.

  By this time, Agent LaDividico and the two uniformed agents arrived at the church. They remained outside. There were three entrances to the church, a front, back and side entrance. The two uniformed agents with their 9-millimeter automatic machine guns manned the back and side entrances.

  Agent LaDividico waited at the front entrance for White to show up. When he arrived, Agent LaDividico instructed White to man the front entrance while he went inside to search for the assassins.

  Agent LaDividico entered the church from the front entrance ever so quietly, gun concealed. The church sanctuary was full of people. Two men, probably church security, stayed back in the narthex. They were armed with concealed carry. Agent LaDividico approached them and showed them his badge whispering, “Secret Service. Have you seen anything or anyone suspicious?”

  “There is a man up in the choir loft,” said one of the church security men. “No one else is there. He’s hiding behind the organ up there. There’s also a man standing at the back inside the sanctuary on the right side facing the altar. We think both men are armed. We have not approached either of them.”

  “Thanks”, said Agent LaDividico. “You’ve both done good. Real good. Now, we need you men to stand down and let us take it from here.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the men.

  “But I do want you to do one more thing for me. Can I have a bulletin?” They handed him a bulletin, and Agent LaDividico began to write a note to the pastor who was engaged in his sermon at the pulpit. “I want one of you to casually walk to the front of the church and hand this note to the pastor.”

  The note read, “Brethren, we had expected to be graced by the presence of our president and vice president this morning, but I just learned that they will not be coming. Perhaps, they will come another time.”

  “Go, go now,” said Agent LaDividico.

  One of the men gently opened the sanctuary door, held it from making any sound as it closed and then proceeded slowly down the main aisle. He stopped in front of the pulpit and reached his outstretched arm up to the pastor with the bulletin in hand. The pastor reached down to receive it. He looked at the note, smiled and slowly raised his head toward the congregation. Then, he read the note verbatim. When he was done, he quipped,” You can’t believe anything politicians say.” The congregation laughed and he continued with his sermon.

  The man who delivered the message walked back out into the narthex.

  “Did you see anything?” asked Agent LaDividico.

  “Yes, the man at the back of the church was on a small radio.”

  “He must’ve been talking to the shooter,” said Agent LaDividico. “Let’s get out of this narthex now.”

  Agent LaDividico escorted the two security men out the front entrance of the church into the parking lot. After about five minutes the man at the back of the sanctuary, came out the front of the church.

  Agent White, with his gun drawn, yelled “Freeze, hands in the air.”

  The man raised his hands and Agent LaDividico frisked him, pulling a concealed handgun from under his coat. Agent White cuffed him and Agent LaDividico took him to an unmarked FBI vehicle in the parking lot. After about five more minutes a young, tall Middle Eastern man came s
trolling out of the front entrance not suspecting anything and trying to look inconspicuous.

  Agent White, again yelled, “Freeze, hands in the air.” The man raised his hands and Agent LaDividico frisked him, but he was unarmed.

  Agent LaDividico rushed up. “Are there any more of you in there?”

  “You think I tell you, infidel? I am unarmed. You have nothing.”

  “Why does a Muslim go into a Christian church on a Sunday morning?” asked Agent LaDividico.

  “I want to become Christian,” said the assassin.

  “Well, you’re going to have to do it from behind bars.”

  Agent LaDividico radioed the FBI to move in as well as the state and local police. Before the incident was over, there were more law enforcement officers in the church parking lot than parishioners. The pastor dismissed the congregation telling them to leave the church building due to an incident that would be explained later. The congregation poured out into the parking lot. Many of them were going up to the local police and asking them questions.

  Agent LaDividico and his agents went inside the church and began searching for weapons, bombs, and possible accomplices. The FBI followed and assisted in the search. Agent White went upstairs to the choir loft. He began looking around the loft. He found a closet, opened the door, and searched it.

  “I found it! I found it!” he yelled.

  “What? What did you find?” asked Agent LaDividico.

  “The rifle. The rifle the assassin was going to use.” Agent LaDividico ran up to the choir loft.

  “Don’t touch it,” said Agent LaDividico. “We need to preserve any fingerprints. It looks like a Steyr SSG 69. Good choice. Most popular sniper rifle in the world. Accurate, reliable, lightweight. If you’re gonna kill a president, that’s the way to do it.”

  “You sound like you were rooting for the guy,” said Agent White.

  “The only thing the assassin and I have in common is that we both like guns,” said Agent LaDividico.