The Sealing

by Patrick Higgins

  “Should we tell her?”

  Holmes nodded yes. They knew she could be trusted.

  “He’s alive, Meera!”

  Meera Singh let out a loud gasp. “What? How?”

  Travis looked at his watch. “Everything that’s been promised to us, and so much more, is being held in safe keeping until we can get to it. That’s all we can tell you for now.”

  Relief flooded the ETSM doctor’s soul. “Finally, some good news!”

  “For now, aside from telling Brian, Jacquelyn and Tamika, no one else can know, including your colleagues. In time, they’ll know.”

  “I won’t tell a soul, gentlemen, only those you’ve asked me to.”

  “Tell Tom and Tony the same.”

  “Will do.”

  “Let’s talk again tomorrow night. Until then, stay safe and always remain vigilant.”

  “You too, gentlemen.”

  The call ended.

  9

  THE NEXT DAY

  “MITZI’S DELI…”

  “Hey, Craig, it’s Brian…” This isn’t going to be easy.

  Craig Rubin stared blankly at the phone. Brian was the last person he expected, wanted, to hear from. Had it not been for Chelsea’s suicide, he would have slammed the phone down the moment he heard Brian’s voice. “I heard about your sister. Sorry.”

  “How’d you find out?” Brian’s voice was hoarse from so much crying. He should have been out working with everyone on the first shift but, much like Sarah, he couldn’t find the strength to get out of bed. After never missing a day, this was his second in a row.

  “Your father forwarded the video to me. After just a few seconds, I couldn’t watch anymore. I nearly puked.”

  Brian started weeping, “Still can’t believe she’s gone. I’m devastated.”

  “She’ll be greatly missed…”

  After a few sniffles, Brian said, “Anyway, when I heard Muslim terrorists were targeting Jewish-owned businesses and interests in America, I wanted to make sure your family was okay.”

  “We’re fine,” Craig said, flatly. Former childhood friend or not, Rubin wasn’t comfortable talking to a wanted criminal. “Wish I could say the same for our restaurants. Their scare tactics are really working.”

  “Did you lose power too?”

  “Yeah, but even before that, business was way down. People are too afraid to eat out now, especially at Jewish eateries. Just as we were slowly recovering from the big hit we took after the Universal Children’s Day explosions, this happens.

  Craig sighed, “For the first time since we opened our doors, we’re forced to close all three delis. Just had a staff meeting. I advised my employees not to return until power’s been restored. Who knows when that will be? Had to throw away so much food before it spoils.”

  “I’m sure your customers will miss going there. Can’t tell you how much I miss your coffee and cheesecake…”

  “Are you saying it’s not as good in Pennsylvania?”

  Brian gulped hard and stared blankly at the ceiling. The way Craig said it, it was like he knew his exact location in the Keystone State. Would he record the call and forward it to the authorities afterward? If so, it wouldn’t be the first time. It was a sobering thought.

  “By the way, how’s my father?”

  “Isn’t that something I should be asking you? Jeez, man, how do you think he’s doing after just losing his daughter to suicide?!” The question irritated him. Craig wanted to add, “If you were a real man, you’d call him yourself and ease his burden by telling him where you and your mother are hiding! But you’re not a real man; you’re a coward!”

  But since he was mourning his kid sister’s death, Rubin bit his tongue, “I’m concerned for your father. I’ve left numerous messages, but he hasn’t replied to any of them. Even when he sent the video, there was no message from him. Soon as everyone leaves, I’ll check on him on my way home…”

  Brian sighed. “I appreciate that, Craig. Life sure has been difficult for him lately.” Brian’s voice dripped of despair.

  Yeah, because of you! Rubin thought.

  “If you see him, could you please let me know how he is?”

  “Hmm…” Seriously?

  There was an awkward pause in the conversation. Brian tried not to take Craig’s sarcasm personally. It was time to change the topic. “So, what are your thoughts on what’s happening in Israel?”

  “Did they lose power too?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m talking about how God’s supernaturally protecting the Holy Land. It’s amazing…”

  Rubin’s eyes scanned the darkened restaurant. “Yeah, well, as you so eloquently stated in the letter you wrote me, we Jews are Yahweh’s chosen people, right Brian?”

  Brian ignored his arrogant tone, “Isn’t it fascinating how God’s Two Witnesses can breathe fire out of their mouths? Frankly, it blows my mind.”

  “God’s Witnesses?! Oh, you mean the two lunatics who are causing so much trouble with their bogus magic tricks?

  “Do you have any idea how hated they are among the Jews? Almost as much as the Muslim terrorists trying to kill us! I don’t have to be religious to know they’re false prophets.”

  “Not all Jews think that way, Craig.”

  Craig’s patience was at an end. “Listen, Brian, I don’t care how long we were friends. For the last time, I’m not interested in being preached at, especially from someone on the run from the cops.”

  Rubin snorted, “Tell you what: you and Tamika turn yourselves in and I’ll visit you both in prison. Then we can have a religious debate if you want. Until then, please leave me alone!”

  “Sure wish you didn’t feel that way, Craig…”

  “Well, I do! I’ve accepted this new world for what it is and plan to make the most of it. I suggest you do the same. The first step is to turn yourself in and face the music. This way, your mother can return home to your father where she belongs. It’s the least you can do for all the hell you’ve put them through, your father especially. Now more than ever, they need each other. You owe it to them to do the right thing.”

  “Mom made the choice on her own, Craig, when she became a Christ follower…”

  “If you say so!”

  “I pray you’ll make the same decision, before it’s too late. Pop too.”

  “Stop proselytizing me! I don’t want your prayers. If I’m killed by Muslims because I’m a Jew, that’s my problem, Brian, not yours! Feel free to listen to those two wackos in Jerusalem all you want! I want nothing to do with them, or your Jesus, for that matter! Leave me alone!”

  As if on cue, before Craig Rubin could end the call, an old Chevy van with no side windows pulled up to Mitzi’s Deli. Before it even came to a complete stop, someone wearing a thobe jumped out the passenger side door and stormed the deli shouting at the top of his lungs in Arabic.

  The Middle Eastern man didn’t have a gun or knife in his hands. But what made Craig fearful was the sheer hatred in his eyes. It nearly caused Rubin’s heart to stop beating in his chest.

  Suddenly, the man clung to what looked like a detonator strapped to his body at the waist.

  Rubin dropped the phone and raced toward the man as quickly as he could to try and disengage him. But it was too late.

  The last words Craig Rubin heard on this side of eternity were, “Allahu Akbar!”

  Brian heard the deafening explosion and pried the phone away from his left ear. He shook his head to hopefully silence the ringing in his ears. It didn’t work. He panicked, “Craig? Are you there? Are you okay?”

  There was no reply…

  Brian sent a text message to Tamika: Come to the house quickly!

  He climbed out of bed and went downstairs. Jacquelyn was on the living room couch, praying on the phone with her Michigan pastor, Jim Simonton, after informing him of Chelsea’s suicide and of her pregnancy.

  It didn’t take long for Tamika to appear. Cocoa was at the front door waiting for her. She scooped
her up with her right hand and pet her fur.

  Brian was fumbling with his phone trying to obtain a feed to a local New York City news channel, using portable Wi-fi that was linked to a dedicated satellite Jefferson Danforth had set up for the ETSM; his hands couldn’t stop shaking.

  “Brian, are you okay?”

  “Craig’s dead...”

  Normally, Tamika would cover her mouth with her hands after hearing tragic news like this. But too much had happened; she was desensitized to it all. “How do you know that?”

  “I was on the phone with him a few moments ago.”

  Tamika shot Brian a curious look which quickly turned into full-blown shock. “Come again?”

  “After hearing terrorists were bombing Jewish businesses, I wanted to make sure he was okay. Suddenly there was this loud explosion.”

  “At the restaurant?”

  Brian nodded grimly.

  Tamika put Cocoa on the floor. “Think he survived?”

  “Seriously doubt it. All we can do is hope and pray.”

  It didn’t take long for their worst suspicions to be confirmed…

  A reporter spoke, “I’m standing in front of what used to be Mitzi’s world-famous Jewish Delicatessen, in midtown Manhattan. I can now confirm the dozens of blasts rocking the city an hour ago, were intended for Jewish-owned businesses. Similar explosions have rocked all major U.S. cities. All were caused by homicide bombers. It’s feared no one inside the restaurant behind me survived the explosion.”

  Tamika lowered her head and started weeping.

  Before the Graveyard Incident, Craig had always been kind to her. And generous. He even allowed Mitzi’s to be her safe haven when she desperately needed one. He even picked up the check most days.

  Even if Craig ended up hating her, all because of a lie, she missed Craig and still loved him. Tamika was numb.

  Mulrooney stared at his phone screen thinking similar thoughts. A chill ran through him. “Just before the explosion, Craig told me he wanted nothing to do with my Jesus. First Chelsea, now Craig?

  In the coming days, Brian would hear about the suicide of the patriarch of the family, Yacov Rubin. It came a few hours after confirming all three Mitzi’s Deli locations were destroyed, along with everyone inside, including his three sons, Marc, David and Craig.

  In his short suicide letter, the founder of Mitzi’s Delicatessen bemoaned that, with his wife and three sons gone, and his business empire crumbling all around him, he saw no other sensible solution.

  The American Dream he’d worked so hard for, and ultimately achieved, now lay in ruins. Apparently, not even the tens of millions of dollars he had in the bank could pull him back from the brink of darkness.

  As the lone survivor in the family, a family Yacov Rubin loved with all his heart, a family he thought was better than most other families, the only logical thing to do was join them.

  Totally clueless about life on the other side, all he could hope for was another chance at success with his cherished loved ones…Even if he had to start over again, with nothing, they could rebuild on the other side.

  Yacov did it before; he could do it again.

  With that thought ringing in his head, the wealthy man, suddenly realizing how poor he really was, leaned up in his favorite recliner chair at home, steadied the loaded shotgun beneath his chin and, without the slightest hesitation or without leaving a will, pulled the trigger, splattering his brains all over the living room walls.

  The huge mountain of success that once was the envy of his many Manhattan competitors, turned out to be nothing more than an American tragedy, a chasing after the wind, eternally speaking.

  This was something Yacov Rubin now understood perfectly well…

  10

  FIVE DAYS LATER

  AS IT TURNED OUT, President Ashford wasn’t the only world leader hiding a deep, dark secret from the rest of the world. Salvador Romanero watched from overseas and was quite mindful of what was going on in America, only he was more in the loop than the new President was.

  Once DNA samples were obtained from the bodies recovered from the wreckage on Air Force One in Kansas—to include 50 members of the media—it didn’t take long for the results to come back.

  Like everyone else on board the plane, Melissa Danforth’s body was so charred and mangled that had it not been for her DNA match, it would have been impossible to identify her.

  President Danforth, on the other hand, was never identified. Someone was sitting at his desk when the explosion occurred. Like all other passengers on board the aircraft, his body parts were strewn everywhere.

  They pulled a DNA sample from a severed leg that was mixed in with twisted metal and discovered it wasn’t Danforth’s DNA; it belonged to Harry Marshall—one of the President’s body doubles.

  The fact that Marshall was one of Danforth’s body doubles meant he, not the President, was on board Air Force One when it exploded in midair. It also meant Danforth never went to Colorado in the first place.

  It was Marshall all along…

  This earth-shattering news was kept hidden from the public. They secured a sample from Danforth’s DNA already on file, in case it was needed to further cover their tracks.

  Since Danforth was still alive, Everett Ashford had no legitimate claim to the White House. Instead of voiding his Presidency and throwing him in prison, U.S. officials working under Romanero’s direction were willing to let the scenario play out to their advantage.

  Bottom line, if they wanted to assume full control of the U.S. government, which was essential to creating a one world cashless system, Danforth and Ashford both had to be removed from the equation.

  A significant step to overthrow the government was taken the day fire consumed large chunks of many American cities. When briefed by his advisors, an ambiguous smile played on Romanero’s lips. It couldn’t have happened at a more opportune time. Even my enemies are helping me!

  With a country deeply entrenched in chaos, little media attention was ever given when Speaker of the House, Clarence Bannister—a health-conscious fanatic—died suddenly and mysteriously of a massive heart attack. But that wasn’t the real cause of his death. Romanero had ordered his assassination.

  Knowing Lois Cipriano was Romanero’s top choice to replace him, American globalist leaders made sure that she was quickly sworn in as new House Speaker. If something were ever to befall America’s new Commander-in-Chief, she would be next in line. With that part of the plan in place, they would remain patient until the right time came along to take Ashford out.

  When he uttered the words, “So help me God” in his inauguration speech, and “Pray for me as I pray for you. God is with us,” knowing to Whom he was praying, Romanero became so angry, he wanted to shoot a missile through his TV screen. This alone made him worthy of death.

  When President Ashford unwisely chose to wait before selecting a V.P., they couldn’t believe their good fortune. It’s like he was signing his own death warrant. His indecision made their decision infinitely easier; it was like receiving manna from heaven.

  The Presidency was a breath away from falling into Romanero’s lap. But he had to act quickly. Ashford knew too much to merely be stripped of power and incarcerated. He had to be silenced for good. The sooner the better. Working with key American leaders, Salvador Romanero—a foreigner with no political ties to America a year ago—gave the order for the American President to be taken out.

  They also had to find Jefferson Danforth and bring him to justice, without the public knowing about it.

  With Danforth’s death warrant signed, Harry Marshall was secretly passed off as the fallen American leader. Marshall’s corpse was being prepared for a full Presidential funeral three days from now.

  Not a bad way for a Presidential body double to go out.

  Only Harry Marshall wasn’t taken to a better place. Because he wasn’t saved, his current predicament was profoundly worse than when his body was blown to pieces on the airplane.


  But his soul was still completely intact, in Hades, where his troubles were just beginning. Like everyone else sent to that wretched place, they would never end…

  Meanwhile, President Ashford knew his days in office were numbered. But in the end, his stint as Commander in Chief was shorter than he could have imagined.

  The moment the old nuclear codes were voided and Ashford’s facial, optical and fingerprints were recognized, but just before the new ones were reprogrammed, one of the secret service agents whom the new President did not know, inched up behind him and jammed a needle into the back of his neck, instantly paralyzing him.

  Everett Ashford lost all control of his body and fell to the floor. Without spending a single night at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, as America’s new President, his limp body was taken out through a hidden door beneath the Situation Room and placed in the back of a truck, then taken to a secret place until further orders were given.

  Romanero ordered that it be kept from the public for now.

  LATER THAT EVENING, DANIEL Sullivan was with Jefferson Danforth and the ETSM leaders, when he received an urgent text message from his friend and colleague, Special Agent Anthony Galiano: WE MUST MEET NOW! YOU KNOW WHERE…DO NOT REPLY!

  Sullivan scratched his head. Agent Galiano never sent text messages using all caps. If anything, he loathed those who did.

  Daniel Sullivan told his boss, “More trouble’s looming. I just don’t know what it is. I’m meeting with Galiano now. Be back later.”

  Danforth nodded weakly. He was too numb to inquire…

  Thirty minutes later, Sullivan arrived at the warehouse. Special Agent Anthony Galiano was waiting for him, looking completely perplexed.

  “What is it, Anthony?”

  “I think the President’s dead…”

  “Ashford?”

  Agent Galiano nodded yes.

  “Why do you think that?”

  “After he was sworn in, I was ordered to stand guard outside the Situation Room, as Ashford retreated there to change the nuclear codes on the football, with a military commander and two secret service agents I did not know.”