“To avoid loading our guns in public, yes, sir.”
“Or even in front of the chancellor’s aide. It’s just tacky.”
“Understood.”
“I offered to rent a car, but Chancellor Dengler insisted on sending someone. He knows how to roll out the red carpet.”
“So I’ve heard. It will be an honor to meet him. Thanks for the privilege.”
“You’ve earned it, Commander. Now, I have a small gift for the chancellor that I would like you to keep in your pocket until I ask for it. It’ll be a nice touch. It happens to be something I know he has heard of and will appreciate receiving.”
Ranold pulled the stone talisman from his pocket and slipped it to Aikman. The younger man rubbed it between his palms. “These are unique, aren’t they? Wonder where the zealots get them.”
“Never thought of that,” Ranold said. “They must have to manipulate them—by hand or machine—to make them so smooth and shiny, don’t you think?”
“They must. And so you’ll ask me for this during the meeting?”
“Probably near the end. I’ll play it by ear. Just keep it where you can retrieve it quickly.”
* * *
It was after midnight in the States when Paul was awakened by a tone in his tooth. He slid out of bed, hoping not to disturb Jae, and padded into the hall to take the call.
Bia Balaam brought him up to date on her machinations with his father-in-law. “He was getting suspicious, but not of me for some reason.”
“You’re good, Bia.”
“I ought to be after all these years. I learned the game from him, after all. It’s just that I’ve never used my abilities against him before.”
“He’s the best.”
“Well, he was once. Let’s hope—for both our sakes—that we’re better than he is now.”
“I hear you,” Paul said. “What are you doing up, if I may ask?”
“Taking calls from various moles planted here and there.”
“Can’t they leave messages?”
“Sure, but I don’t sleep anymore anyway. The truth is, Doctor, I’ve been studying this document of yours, the salvation thing.”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t get it. It looks too easy. I thought these people—you people—were all about being good and trying to be perfect and stay in God’s good graces so He wouldn’t punish you.”
“What do the verses say?”
“Well, you’ve got this passage about being saved by grace through faith. . . .”
“And not by works so no one can boast that they did it for themselves.”
“So how do you qualify? How do you earn this?”
“What do the verses say?”
She sighed. “Okay, I get the point. Whatever the verses say, you buy. This is your rule book, and what it says is what goes.”
“Exactly.”
She read it aloud, softly, as if to herself. “‘For by grace you have been saved through faith, and that not of yourselves; it is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast.’”
Paul was tempted to explain, but he knew he couldn’t do better than to let the words speak for themselves, especially for someone as bright as Bia Balaam.
He heard her breathing. Finally, “Like I said. Too easy.”
“You want to earn it.”
“Of course I do. I’ve earned everything else I’ve ever gotten in this life.”
“And what will you do to accomplish that?”
“Change my life. Be nice. Play for the right team. Thwart the NPO, work against the USSA, expose the atheistic international government that brought this judgment on us.”
“And that will make up for all the other stuff, the rest of your life? How old are you, Bia?”
“None of your business, but you know well I’m a good bit older than you.”
“Ever killed anybody?”
“What do you think? I’ve lost count.”
“How many good things will it take to make up for each of those?”
* * *
Felicia Thompson was sleepless in Deerfield as well.
Cletus was up and pacing. “I want to believe,” he said, clearly in agony. “I just can’t shake this anger.”
“I’m angry too, sweetheart,” she said. “Angry at myself for being so blind and stupid all these years. We brought this on ourselves. The whole world did.”
“So you’re not angry with God?”
“I don’t know,” Felicia said. “I suppose part of me is.”
“Part of you. All of me is.”
* * *
Ranold enjoyed the attention from not one but two aides from Dengler’s office. They could have been twins, quiet men in their late twenties wearing matching woolen trench coats and black gloves.
Ranold had traveled light, checking a bag only to separate his weapon from his ammunition and packing a change of clothes only in case weather forced him to stay overnight. His return flight was scheduled for late that afternoon, and he had arrived at eight in the morning.
Ranold considered the aides appropriately quiet and attentive. The loading of the weapons went off without a hitch, and he let the men carry his and Aikman’s bags—though Aikman looked as if he’d rather have carried his own. He’d learn.
Bern was an ironic name for a city that flirted with zero degrees Fahrenheit even with the morning sun riding high in a cloudless sky. Ranold felt it, strangely enough, in his ankles. And they didn’t warm in the car, though it had been idling with the heater running.
“We’re prepared to give you a talking tour along the way,” the driver said.
Aikman perked up. “That would be—”
“No need,” Ranold said. “Been here before. At least I have.”
“Would Commander Aikman care to hear—”
“We need to talk,” Ranold said, rolling his eyes at Aikman. That finally bought the aides’ silence, and Ranold made up small talk he whispered to his subordinate.
The Americans were delivered to the entrance of international headquarters. They were greeted by a squat black woman in a gray-and-navy uniform that may have fit in her younger days but now made her look like a toddler in too-small hand-me-downs. She proved the epitome of the security chief Ranold had predicted.
“I bring you greetings and welcome from Chancellor Dengler,” she said with a Caribbean lilt, “who eagerly awaits you. It will be my pleasure to usher you through security and up to his office.”
Ranold nodded and Aikman thanked her. But when she led them to a metal detector, Ranold gave him the eye and the younger man went to work.
“Surely you won’t require the head of NPO USSA to be processed,” he said.
“Just routine,” she said. “You can see we’re in private here.”
“Be that as it may,” Aikman said, “you don’t want to embarrass General Decenti. Surely Chancellor Dengler would not want you to circumvent diplomatic protocol.”
“Look,” she said, stopping to face Aikman, “my job is to process you through security. Now—”
“And my job is to protect the dignity of the office of the chief of NPO USSA, not to mention your reputation with your own boss.”
“Do you have something to hide, sir?”
“Certainly not, and I’m offended at the suggestion.” He looked to Ranold, who put his hand to his ear.
“Please get the chancellor’s office on the phone for me,” Aikman said, “so I can inform him of our levels of security clearance.”
“Security clearance in the USSA does not necessarily translate to clearance—”
“Even at this level?” Aikman said, flashing his ID.
The woman had already pulled out her cell phone. She flipped it shut. “That’s internationally sanctioned,” she said. “Forgive me. My mistake.”
As Aikman and the woman spoke, Ranold removed his gloves and put them in his suit-coat pockets.
“Gentlemen,” she said at last, “follow me, please.”
Within a minute, Chancellor Dengler appeared in his doorway with an exhausted smile and an extended hand.
Ranold was stunned at the man’s appearance. He had that height, that willowy, dignified air, but the power seemed to have seeped out of him. Dengler was grieving, of course, but who wasn’t? He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, though he was typically nattily dressed, coiffed, and shaved.
After meeting Aikman, Dengler said, “Would he care to wait for you? You certainly don’t need a bodyguard in here.”
Ranold hesitated, his mind racing. This was Dengler’s turf and protocol made this his call, but still . . .
“Oh, he’s much more than my bodyguard, Chancellor. Commander Aikman is one of the highest-ranking members of my inner circle, and I’d appreciate it if he could sit in with us.”
Dengler’s face went slack and he exhaled loudly. “Certainly,” he said flatly. He led the way into his massive, gleaming office. Ranold turned to signal Aikman to close the door behind them. That brought another look from Dengler, who busied himself drawing an extra chair next to Ranold’s.
The general knew for sure he had pushed Dengler past his comfort level when the chancellor settled in behind his desk. He knew it was Dengler’s practice to sit with guests, not across the desk from them. Ranold didn’t want Aikman to know this meeting was not really about his being officially welcomed into his new role. So rather than wait for Dengler to ask what he could do for him, Ranold jumped in.
“I can’t tell you how much it means to me to be invited here, Chancellor Dengler.”
“Well, certainly, but I—”
“It’s an honor to serve in this way, and while the NPO is a separate entity, of course all the service agencies—particularly the intelligence operations—function at the behest of the international government, and, thus, you. So thank you, sir. It’s a pleasure.”
Dengler folded his long-fingered hands in front of him on the leather desk blotter and leveled his gaze at Ranold. The general sat there, as if waiting for some formal words from the chancellor, but it quickly became clear that Dengler was on to him. And Ranold hated him for it.
“Is there something specific you wish to cover, General Decenti?” Dengler said, implying that otherwise he had a busy day.
“Yes, as a matter of fact there is, Chancellor. I need to know whether you are holding to your edict that the citizenry of the world must sign the oath of loyalty by March—”
“Pardon me for interrupting, General, but your jurisdiction does not extend past the borders of the United Seven States of America, does it?”
“Of course not. But naturally what applies to the world applies to my country.”
“So, your question again?”
Ranold felt himself flush. “Are you or are you not going to hold citizens to their pledges of loyalty?”
“Have you heard otherwise?”
“I believe I heard equivocation from you.”
The chancellor sat back and folded his arms. “In light of the worldwide mourning over—”
“It’s a yes-or-no question, Mr. Chancellor.”
Dengler lowered his voice and squinted. “You realize, I assume, General, to whom you are speaking.”
“Yes, I do. To the man who is waffling on his own—”
“You’re further aware, I assume, that I neither report to you nor am remotely obligated to answer to you.”
Ranold scowled and shook his head, disgusted with Dengler beyond words.
Dengler glanced at Aikman. “Your boss is not a pleasant man, is he?”
Ranold swiveled to see if he could detect the slightest capitulation in Aikman, but to his credit the commander merely gazed at the chancellor, expressionless and silent.
Dengler pushed his chair back as if to rise, but Ranold stopped him. “Let me see if I can salvage this conversation, Chancellor Dengler, if you’ll indulge me just another moment.”
Dengler settled back. “I do have a pressing calendar.”
“Surely you didn’t expect this meeting to end so soon.”
“Granted. But, please . . .”
“I wanted to show you our sidearms,” Ranold said, pulling his left glove from his suit-coat pocket.
“Sir?”
“You didn’t hear me, Chancellor?”
“Yes, but I . . . why would I—”
“Are you not fascinated with intelligence, espionage?” Ranold said, pulling on the glove.
“Of course, but—”
“Commander Aikman, show him your nine millimeter and explain to him why we load them with fewer rounds than they are designed for.”
It irritated Ranold that Aikman hesitated. As he feared, it gave Dengler time to protest.
“I’m intrigued by your area of expertise, but—”
“Show him your piece, Commander! Indulge me a moment, Chancellor.”
Aikman unsnapped his holster and hefted the black gun slowly, apologetically, as if he could read Dengler’s impatience and Decenti’s impropriety. “We load the magazine with only ten bullets because the full complement has been known to threaten the integrity of the loading spring.”
“It stretches it, in plain English,” Ranold said, drawing his own weapon. For the first time he saw the alarm in Dengler’s eyes. “See that we both carry the same model, being former military men.”
“Yes, well, that’s interesting. Now—”
Decenti reached for Aikman’s gun with his left hand. The younger man hesitated, then offered it. Ranold fired two quick rounds at Dengler from Aikman’s piece, one piercing his left eye and the other tearing through his cheekbone. The force of the shots drove Dengler’s head back and made his chair roll. His remaining eye open, teeth bared, he was dead where he sat.
Aikman recoiled and tried to stand, but with his own gun Ranold shot him through the forehead, then through the heart as he fell.
The general heard screaming and footsteps, knowing no one would dare enter until they were sure the shooting had stopped. He dropped Aikman’s weapon atop his body, slipped off his glove and pocketed it, then holstered his own gun.
“Help!” he yelled. “For the love of all things sacred! Help!”
30
“HAVE YOU EVER PRAYED, BIA?” Paul said.
“Not once, ever.”
“Not even by accident, when your life was on the line, anything like that?”
“No. When I’m in trouble, I talk to me, to myself. I say, ‘C’mon, Balaam, do what you need to do.’ I never pray.”
“But you believe in God now, right? Isn’t that what you’re telling me?”
“Of course.”
“You can pray to Him.”
“I gather that, but how? What does one say to God?”
“What do you want to say?”
“I’m getting another call, Paul. But quickly, I want to tell Him I’m sorry, and I want to tell Him I believe in Him.”
“Then do it.”
“I can’t just talk to God like I’m talking to you, can I? I wouldn’t know how to say it. Sorry, I’ve got to take this.”
“Okay, call me back. But yes, talk to God the way you talk to me. He made you. He’ll understand.”
* * *
When Chancellor Dengler’s executive assistant slowly opened the door, Ranold dropped to his knees with his hands to his head, swearing. “I had to shoot my own man! He murdered the chancellor! Call security!”
Before Ranold knew it, Dengler’s office was swarming with s
ecurity, aides, and onlookers. “I can’t believe I could so misread my own man!” Ranold raged. “Who would have ever suspected? He was one of our top people!”
The woman who had tried to run them through security introduced herself and asked Ranold to step into an anteroom. “You know that man had a conniption when I tried to walk you two through the metal detector.”
Ranold nodded miserably. “I didn’t understand that myself, but it all makes sense now. I wasn’t even thinking.”
“Neither was I,” she said. “I took him at face value. I thought he was just trying to make things easier for you.”
“Me too, ma’am, and yet I, of all people, know the value of security. It would have been no bother even to be searched, and I often surrender my weapon in secure settings. I just didn’t give it a thought this time.”
“I understand. Now are you up to telling me what happened in there?”
“I’m pretty shaken, but I’ll try.”
“Take your time, sir.”
“We were having a great meeting. I even offered to have Aikman wait for me, as he was just here to assist me and didn’t really need to be involved. But the chancellor, kind and generous as always, insisted on inviting him in. Chancellor Dengler congratulated me on my promotion and said a few kind words about my background, that sort of thing. I commiserated with him because, as you may know, we both lost sons in The Incident.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Thank you. It’s hard. My wife was murdered too, so—”
“Oh, my word!”
“I was doing okay. I’m surrounded by people who care, and they all thought this trip would be just the tonic for me. I must say, the chancellor was taking my mind off my troubles until Commander Aikman just stood, drew his weapon, and shot the man dead.”
“Then what?”
“What could I do? Hardly thinking, because I have been trained a lifetime to react instinctively, I drew my own gun, and as Aikman turned toward me, I knew it was him or me, so I fired.”
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