by Pam Funke
CHAPTER eighty-six
Caitlin drove quickly toward what was left of the Hinesville Inne. When she was about a quarter of a mile away; she could see a lot of commotion going on. There were police cars, fire trucks, a couple of ambulances, a couple of unmarked cars (FBI, for sure.), a FEMA van and some construction workers. She could see smoke rising in the distance. Her heart sank.
She was stopped a few minutes later at a roadblock. A police officer walked over to her car. Caitlin rolled down her window.
“I’m sorry miss, but you can’t go any further,” the officer said.
“But officer, I need to get back to my hotel.”
“What hotel are you staying in miss?”
“I’m staying at the Hinesville Inne.”
“I’m sorry to tell you this miss, but there was a bombing in that hotel earlier today; there’s nothing left. You will need to find somewhere else to stay.”
Tears streamed down her face. Caitlin sat there with her hands shaking uncontrollably. She placed them on the steering wheel hoping to steady them.
“Are you alright, miss?” The officer gently laid his hand on top of hers.
“No.” She looked down at her lap. “My friends were in there,” she said her voice barely above a whisper. She turned and looked at him. His heart panged at the agony etched on her face.
“Officer, did anyone survive?” she asked her voice wavering.
“I’m sorry miss, but so far there have been no survivors found,” he added sadly before turning and walking away.
Poor, poor Serenity. She had actually liked that girl. Well, now she would definitely have to go back to Wally World, as all her things were in the hotel; she would have to replace everything. Not to mention she had not bought her daughter’s gift. She was going to have to find another place to stay too. So much for taking a nap.
****
“Hey, where are Charlie and Katy? Shouldn’t they have been here by now?” asked Martin Campton.
Grant looked around the room for the first time. He had already noticed they were not there for the next stage. It wasn’t that big of a deal as he had not expected Katy to be returning before morning anyway.
Beads of sweat formed on General Ludlow’s brow. He wiped his forehead nervously. I knew they would be missed sooner or later. What am I going to do? Do they know what I did to Charlie? Why is Grant looking at me suspiciously? Calm yourself, Alexander. Remain calm. Don’t let on that you know anything. He took a deep breath and walked around the room checking various screens here and there. Grant watched the general closely. Something seemed really off to him. Why does General Ludlow look so nervous? Does he know something about them that we don’t? He looks almost guilty of something.
“Is something wrong general?” Grant asked ignoring Martin’s question.
“There is no problem. Where are your co-workers?”
“I do not know where Charlie is sir. He has never been late or absent before. You know Katy’s shift ended and she won’t be back before morning.”
“Someone call Charlie at home and find out what’s going on. Tell him that he needs to come see me before reporting to the lab! Well, we have work to do here, so get back to work!”
Grant picked the phone up and called Charlie’s home. The phone just rang and rang. Perhaps he’s on his way in. I’ll try his cellphone. He hung up the phone and dialed Charlie’s cell. That phone also rang and rang. Something is definitely wrong. Charlie always answers his cellphone. What’s going on? Has something happened to Charlie? He looked over at General Ludlow; he looked as though he wanted to be anywhere, but here right now. Does he know what happened to Charlie?
General Ludlow did not like the way Grant kept looking at him. It was as though he was accusing him of something. He acts as though he knows something. But how could he? I was very careful. No one but the voice could possibly know what I’ve done. He knew sooner or later that Charlie would be missed; he was such a sweet guy. Everyone here had liked him. General Ludlow could not think of an explanation to give his staff for Charlie’s disappearance. What was he going to tell them?
“I’m sorry General Ludlow, but Charlie isn’t answering either of his phones. That’s really strange for Charlie as he always answers his cellphone,” Grant said.
“Well, try again a little later. Perhaps he left his cellphone somewhere.”
“That’s certainly possible with Charlie.”
Grant returned his attention back to working on the project; he needed to make sure everything was ready for Phase Two. He still could not believe that he was going through with this.
“Oh Lord!” General Ludlow panicked.
“Sir?” asked Martin.
“Nothing. Nothing,” General Ludlow replied wiping the sweat from his brow. He had completely forgotten about the body lying in the office. He would have to take care of that immediately. He could not risk someone finding the body, at least not now. General Ludlow turned and hurried out of the room.
“The General is certainly acting pretty strange,” Martin said.
“He sure is,” Grant replied. Something just is not right. However, Grant knew better than to say anything.
CHAPTER eighty-seven
Sampson stood outside of the empty office in the hallway. He did not know what drew him to this room, but he figured that whatever was behind this door had something to do with General Ludlow. He really did not trust the man. He could not understand why Nicolaitanes had picked him for this project in the first place; he would not have chosen him.
Sampson reached out and turned the knob; the door was locked. Strange. I thought the only room in the building that was kept locked was the lab. Now he was really curious. He looked up and down the hallway to make sure he was alone—he was. He took a tool out of his pocket and quietly picked the lock on the door. He put the tools away, looked up and down the hallway once more to make sure that he was still alone then quickly entered the room.
There was a putrid odor in the room. It smelled like something was dead. He covered his nose with his hand. It was really dark in the room; he needed some light to see. He walked over to the window to open the blinds to allow some light in. He did not want to turn the lights on for fear that it would draw attention. Now, he wished he had not entered the room. There was a man’s body lying in a pool of blood. He turned the body over with his foot. There was a bullet hole in between the eyes. Someone had wanted to make sure he was dead. Looks like a small caliber handgun. What happened here? The body looked like it had been there a day or two. What kind of person would not only kill someone like this but just leave the body there and not care? Did General Ludlow do this? He really does not seem like he has it in him. I need to get out of here and notify Nicolaitanes about this immediately. He leaned over to close the blinds back.
“Sampson,” the voice said. Sampson froze. How did the voice know I was here?
“What do you want?” Sampson replied.
“Get rid of the body and clean up this mess. This would be a bad time for a body to be discovered, don’t you think? There would be police swarming all over the place and we can’t have that.”
“Fine,” Sampson said a little annoyed himself. “Now what am I going to do with a body? Better yet, how am I going to get rid of a body without being seen?”
“Don’t worry about that. No one will see you. Now just get rid of it!”
Sampson sighed. He left the room to get something to wrap the body in and to clean the blood up with. He came back a few minutes later and disposed of the body. Afterwards, he cleaned up all the blood and brain matter; he also wiped the room clean. He took extra measures to ensure that all of his fingerprints were removed from the room. He did not want to get blamed for this. Forensics will have a hard time ever proving there had been a murder in this room. He smiled pleased with his work. He went back and closed the blinds, the room looked as though no one had been there—just the way he wanted it. He started to leave the room when he heard a key in th
e lock. He backed into the shadows of the adjacent bathroom. That’s not good. How will I get out of here? What do I do now?
CHAPTER eighty-eight
General Ludlow hurried down the hallway to the locked office. He looked both ways to ensure that he was alone before quickly unlocking the door. He went inside locking the door behind him. He turned on the light and looked around for Charlie’s body.
“Where is it?” General Ludlow asked frantically.
He went back in the hallway and double checked to make sure he was in the right office. He was. He looked everywhere in the office; under the desk and in the closets, but Charlie’s body was nowhere to be found.
“What am I going to do now? What am I going to do?” General Ludlow panicked.
Sampson waited quietly. He heard someone desperately looking for something. Twice he thought that he was going to be discovered, but he wasn’t. His curiosity won the best of him—he needed to see who it was making all this noise. Sampson stepped out of the adjacent bathroom. Well, what do you know? How can I use this information to my advantage?
“Looking for something General Ludlow?” asked Sampson. “Shouldn’t you be in the lab by now?”
I thought I locked that door. “I was just headed there, Sampson. Did you need something?” General Ludlow snapped. He was becoming annoyed at being disturbed. I have got to find that body. Charlie couldn’t have possibly gotten up and walked out of here or could he? No, there was too much blood. Wait a minute, where is all the blood? Someone has cleaned up in here. Someone else knows. He turned and stared at Sampson, but he could not tell if he had been the one.
He sure is sweating a lot. The General is mighty nervous about something. I wonder. “Yes, Nicolaitanes wants an update on Phase Two,” Sampson replied.
“Phase Two was initiated five minutes ago. Is that all Sampson?”
“Yes, General. That will be all. I suggest that you get back to the lab.”
Sampson turned to leave.
“Oh and General? Stop wasting your time looking for that body; it has been taken care of,” Sampson called back over his shoulder with a smirk.
General Ludlow paled at this. He felt his knees buckle under him and reached out to steady himself. He could hear his heart racing in his ears.
“Excuse me?” General Ludlow called. But he was once again alone. “He knows. How does he know?” General Ludlow exclaimed as he sank into a chair.
What does Sampson know exactly? How did he know that I had been looking for a body? Better yet, how did he know about the body? What happened to the body? He would have to be more careful. Alexander turned the light off and slowly walked back to the lab.
CHAPTER eighty-nine
Grant and Martin watched as General Ludlow entered the lab. Where had the general gone? Why did he appear to be so nervous? They quickly looked away when the general caught them staring at him. General Ludlow glared at them.
“What is the status, Grant?” General Ludlow asked.
Where did he go in such a hurry? General Ludlow looks mighty nervous about something. He quickly looked back at what he was doing. He wanted no part of whatever it was that was bothering the general.
“Everything is going accordingly, General. I was just getting ready to put it onscreen,” Grant replied.
The lights of Tel Aviv could be seen in the distance. There was a beautiful sunset. How ironic. It is the last one those people will ever see. I bet not one of them is enjoying the beauty of it. We take so many things for granted. General Ludlow glanced around the room. He was trying to sense if there was any trouble brewing in the room. He felt as though they all suspected something. But of course, no one had seen him kill Charlie. At least, he thought no one had seen him, but now he was not so sure. Why does Katy’s name keep coming to mind? Is something not right with her? I will have to find out!
CHAPTER ninety
Prime Minister Olmert was frantically working with intelligence. They still had no idea why their beloved country had been attacked. He was getting really frustrated. They had watched footage of the attack over and over to no avail as they still had no new or helpful information. They had even watched all of the news reports from around the world about the incident, but it left them even more clueless. They pulled out all of the footage and intelligence of all threats made against their country and other Arabic countries over the past year. Hopefully, something would clue them in. Prime Minister Olmert was getting anxious. They were running out of time; he could feel it.
Prime Minister Olmert was meeting with his head of intelligence, John Henry. He could not wait to hear what John had to say. Surely John could shed some light on the situation. John Henry had learned all that he knew from the best—he had worked for British intelligence for 8 ½ years before moving to Israel.
“Okay. We’ve got to be missing something. Let’s go over it one more time,” Prime Minister Olmert said.
“Yes, sir. At approximately 0940 hours this morning three missiles approached Haifa and detonated on impact obliterating the city. There were no survivors. There was absolutely no warning. If you look here, you see that the missiles were flying high enough to show up on radar. They should have shown up on our radar! We have not been able to figure out why they did not. We have checked and rechecked our radar systems for malfunctions, but there were none. We also checked our computer systems but found no viruses or breaches of security. This has to be some new type of weapon, but we are unaware of who has the technology for this. My first guess would be either Russia or the United States, but then again I don’t think either of them would do this sort of thing. At least, not without a good reason. My next guess would be China, but I think this is too advanced even for them, so I really don’t know what to think. It’s almost like something out of a science fiction movie. We are hoping to learn something from the site. I have people currently shifting through the wreckage. Other than that I have nothing new to report sir,” John Henry said.
Prime Minister Olmert frowned at this. How could he possibly protect his country from future attacks like this when they knew absolutely nothing? This is bad, really bad. I feel so helpless. Prime Minister Olmert sighed. Now, what are we going to do? How can I protect my beloved country from something we know nothing about?
“I see. Well, do what you can. We need to find out how this happened and why. I want your office to work around the clock if need be until we solve this,” Prime Minister Olmert said.
He got up and started to walk out of the room when Ruth, his secretary, came bursting into the room in tears.
“What is it, Ruth?” Prime Minister Olmert asked concerned.
She stood there swaying back and forth; tears pouring down her cheeks. Silently she turned on the television to the breaking news story about the bombing of Tel Aviv, Israel. Prime Minister Olmert stood there disbelievingly. I hate it when I’m right. Now, Tel Aviv. It’s not going to stop there is it? Wait a minute, why didn’t we receive any intelligence about this? We were right here in the room.
“This can’t be happening,” he said. Everyone in the room sat quietly staring at the television; it was definitely going to be a long night.
CHAPTER ninety-one
Josef Bartola had finally translated the scroll the Administration of the Patrimony of the Apostolic See had given him. He was extremely upset by what it said. Please tell me that I translated this wrong. It cannot be true. Jesus can’t be the son of God. This is heresy. I cannot allow the translation to be given to the public—it will ruin not only my plans but the church’s plans as well. He was sure that the Catholic Church would not allow it either. There was no way they would allow this scroll to be released.
Mary Magdalene’s testimony about Jesus would have to remain hidden; he couldn’t allow it to prove that Jesus’ was exactly who He said He was. Josef was, after all, trying to disprove Jesus, not prove Him. Disgusted he carefully rolled the scroll back up and resealed it. He was going to give it back to Pope John; he would know what to
do. Josef collected the photos that he had taken as well as the translation and threw them into the flames. He stood there watching the paper catch fire. No one would know what the scroll said, not if he could help it. Josef stirred the ashes to break up the large pieces of paper left behind. He bent down to ensure nothing left was readable. Satisfied he picked up the scroll and went off in search of the Pope. He found him sitting quietly in the library.
“Excuse me, sir,” Josef said quietly.
“Ah, Patriarch Bartola please join me,” Pope John said patting the chair next to him. Josef sat down. “What can I do for you, my son?”
“Here is the scroll that you asked me to translate,” Josef said handing him the scroll.
Pope John took the scroll looking at it. He turned it over in his hands noticing the new seal on the scroll. He was puzzled by this. Why did he reseal it? Such odd behavior.
“Is something wrong Josef?”
“I tested the scroll, the carbon testing dates it back to the days of Jesus. It’s an authentic scroll. It is a great archaeological find, but it would be damaging to the church.”
Pope John pondered this. “How so?”
Josef told him what the scroll said.
“Are you sure about this? Did you go over the translation again?” Pope John asked worriedly.
“Yes sir, I am sure. As the writing is in Aramaic I went over the translation very carefully to make sure that it was correct and that I had the original language correct. Sadly, sir, it was.”