by Ted Dekker
They burst into a room where about twenty gamblers, mostly gentlemen, sat or stood around several tables. Two men hovered in the corners, arms folded, overseeing the action. A waitress served drinks to a large man dressed in a tuxedo. These were not your typical gamblers.
Seth scanned the room. To a man, the gamblers turned to face the intrusion.
“I would like a wager,” Seth said loudly.
No one responded. The man from the right corner, a bearded man who looked like he might have the power to break Seth’s neck with a single swipe, dropped his arms and walked toward them.
“One bet,” Seth said. “And then I will leave you to your small games.”
The fat man chuckled.
“I’m sorry, sir,” the guard said. “This room is reserved for invited guests only. You’ll have to leave.”
Seth ignored him. “I have fifty thousand dollars in chips.” He held up his full hands for all to see. “I’m willing to put these down on any wager that anyone here will make me.”
“You’ll have to leave now, sir.”
A thin man with white hair and large ears spoke. “Hold on, John. Let’s not be so hasty.” He approached and held out a hand. “Name’s Garland.”
“Hello, Garland. I would be polite if I had fewer chips.”
The man eyed him with a smile and then nodded to one of the dealers, who picked up five golden chips. “Fifty?”
“Count them.”
“Oh, I will.” This got a few chuckles. The dealer took Seth’s fifty chips and gave him the five golden chips. Seth shook Garland’s hand.
“What kind of bet do you have in mind?” the fat man said.
“An interesting bet. I now have five chips worth ten thousand dollars each, and I need to walk out of here with fifty of them in under five minutes. I’m afraid that’s all the time I have today.”
Despite the urgency in Seth’s voice, Miriam could not help but smile. The fat man humphed and turned away, dismissing them. Others followed his lead. They weren’t taking him seriously.
“Well, now. I’ve never turned down a donation,” Garland said. “Any bet?”
“Any bet that requires me to beat the odds.” Seth walked over to a table and set down his chips. “I’ll wager these five chips against a pool of fifty from five brave souls, that I can guess any number any of you writes down in five consecutive turns. I can do it blindfolded, and I can tell you the name of every man who writes a number.”
The skinny man turned slowly to the others and raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Any number or all the numbers?”
“All. But we’re running out of time.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” the fat man said. “We’re here to gamble, not to watch a magic show.”
“Please remain quiet, sir. You’re not going to play anyway. I see that.
But Garland here is and so are you, you, you, and you.” He quickly pointed out five men. “You’re going to play because a hundred thousand isn’t that much money to you, and no one has ever placed such an absurd bet for so much money in all your life, and you can’t just let it pass by without taking him up on it. So let’s do this. Who’s got the blindfold?”
Garland was enjoying this immensely, judging by the smile on his face. He pulled off his tie and handed it to Seth, who took it, wrapped it around his head, and turned his back to them.
“Each of you put your ten chips on the table and take a card. Write a number on the card. Then put your name on the card and give it to Mr. Garland here. Can I trust you, Garland?”
“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?”
“I’ll take that as a yes. Are you writing?”
They each did what he said, although not quickly and not without exchanging cynical glances.
“I have the cards,” Garland finally said.
“Good, Tommy.” Garland’s eyes jerked up. “Now mix them up.” He did so.
“Now the rest of you children gather around Tommy for a look-see. The first card is a jack of spades, and Peter has written the number 890.34 on it. He was trying to be tricky with the decimals, but that’s okay.”
Three of the gamblers glanced around the room, looking for mirrors. “My God,” one of them said. “How did you do that?”
“God may or may not have anything to do with it,” Seth said. “I’m undecided on that point. The second card is an ace of diamonds and Don has written a 5 on it.”
Seth went down the list, reciting as though reading. He whipped around, pulled off the tie, and grinned at the stunned onlookers around the cards, ten now.
“Thank you, gentlemen. And by the way, the fat man is about to hit a winning streak, although now that I’ve told you, he will not win as much as he would have. Never turn down a sure thing. Good day.”
He swept up the stacks of chips and marched from the room, Miriam smiling at the gentlemen in his wake.
“Now that is what I call sweeping the board.”
“We have to hurry.” Seth’s stage persona fell away. “We only have a few minutes.”
“But we will—”
“Samir’s here, Miriam.”
She stopped. “What?”
“Samir. Your great lover. Remember? He’s here and he’s looking for you. We have a five-minute window. If we miss it, we miss him.”
“Where is he? How?” She knew it! He had come!
“I don’t know. But I knew while we were in your room that he’d be here.”
The kiss!
“At the moment he’s hurrying this way, searching the casino for you. I can only guess that he knows what Clive knows.”
Miriam craned for sight of him. People crowded the floor, blocking her view. “I don’t see him.”
He sighed. “You will, princess. You will.” It struck her that Seth was not thrilled about this development. But, Seth, don’t you realize, this is what I want! You are so dear to me, but Samir . . . Samir is my love!
For a moment she wanted to say that, but she knew as soon as she thought the words that they would only hurt him.
And then another thought filled her mind, the thought that she was about to leave Seth. What would happen to her then? She couldn’t leave Seth!
Of course you can. And you must. He is your savior, not your lover! She took a deep, settling breath.
They rounded a tall bank of slot machines and there, not ten feet away, stood Samir, neck stretched, looking the opposite way. She began to cry. This was the man she loved, the man who loved her and had been with her nearly every day of her adult life.
“Samir.”
He whirled, saw her, and softened. They stared at each other as if caught in a trance. Moisture flooded his eyes and he smiled.
“Miriam.”
She walked up to him and he swept her up in strong arms. Like a tide, relief swallowed her. Seth would be okay. He would take one look at Samir and know she was happy with him. That would please him.
“I knew you would come, Samir! I knew it!” She stepped back, unable to stop the tingles that swept over her skin.
Samir saw Seth and for a moment his face darkened. “We have to hurry,” he said. “The authorities have sealed off the building.”
“Actually, you have a couple minutes to spare,” Seth said, studying Samir. “Where are you going to take her?”
Samir glanced at Miriam and then back. “And who are you?”
“He is my savior,” Miriam said. “Without him I would be dead.”
“Then you have my country’s gratitude,” Samir said.
“Where are you going to take her?” Seth repeated.
Samir searched Seth’s face. “There is a hall that leads to the—”
“I mean after you escape.”
“To . . . to Madrid. I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”
Seth frowned. She’d never seen him so serious. “The hall to the kitchen is a mistake,” he said. “There’s only one way out. Instead of taking the door to the kitchen, take th
e next one. It will lead you to a window with a fire escape. Take the ladder down to the back alley and head for your car. You’ll be safe for at least the next three hours.”
Samir blinked, confused.
“Samir, we must listen to him.”
Seth picked up a white bucket and dumped the chips into it. “Here’s five hundred thousand dollars. I doubt you’ll need it, but it’s Miriam’s. I would hide out for a while and then return to cash it in. Not all at once.”
Miriam saw that he was finding this difficult. She walked over to him and looked into his eyes. Her back was to Samir. “Thank you. So very much.”
“Your material needs are my spiritual needs,” he said, winking at her. “A Jewish proverb from my grandmother.”
“Your grandmother?”
“Jewish. Crazy, huh?”
She raised an eyebrow, then let the insinuation slide.
Samir stepped forward and took her hand. “We must go.”
“Good-bye, Seth.”
“You should know something, Miriam.” Seth swallowed. “Someone besides me changed our futures yesterday. There’s no other explanation for what happened.”
She nodded at him, impressed by his admission. Frankly, she wasn’t quite sure what she believed anymore. Only that God was very real. Surely that much.
Samir pulled her, and then they were hurrying around the slot machines, running for the exit. They had just reached the door Seth advised them to take when she heard a yell over the cacophony.
“Police, freeze!”
She spun. Others stared at the spot where she’d left Seth, and she knew he’d been caught. He’d allowed them to apprehend him. Why?
Samir tugged on her arm. “Hurry!”
They ran.
Omar watched with five hundred other onlookers as the police handcuffed Seth. He’d arrived half a minute too late and seriously considered shooting the blond American right out from under them. This, after all, was the man who’d taken his wife and surely violated her.
He wasn’t foolish enough to risk his mission for the sake of revenge, however. He’d come for Miriam, not Seth. And Miriam was gone. Which meant she was either alone, hidden by Seth, or . . .
Omar worked his way closer to Clive and Seth, careful to avoid eye contact.
“Where is she?” he heard Clive ask under his breath.
“She’s gone.” Seth seemed at ease, not in the least bit concerned.
“Is she still in the building?”
“No.”
It occurred to Omar that Clive asked such matter-of-fact questions because he knew Seth would answer truthfully.
“Alone?”
Seth looked up into the detective’s eyes. “She’s gone, Clive. She’s in good hands and she’s no longer a concern to the State Department. You want me. You have me. Let’s go.”
Clive wiped his sweaty brow and gestured toward the four policemen who had drawn guns. “Put them away. Let’s go.”
They led him out under the gaze of the crowd.
She’s in good hands and she’s no longer a concern to the State Department. It could only mean one thing. Omar smirked. Khalid had said he suspected that the sheik sent his own man. Samir. So. Miriam was with Samir. Headed back to Saudi Arabia with her lover.
My, my, what a surprise she was in for.
Omar turned and walked for the rear exit. It was time to go home.
chapter 29
few knew of the room deep in the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain, down the hall from the command center and the JFT system, one of the only computing rooms in NORAD’s massive digital complex that hosted only one desk. On the desk were mounted four active-matrix monitors, two on top of two others. Opposite the desk, a ten-by-ten screen virtually exploded with the contents of the four monitors—strings of numbers and symbols that made Clive’s head spin.
Clive peered into the space from an observation room above and behind the desk. Two technicians, Peter Smaley, and four-star general Harold Smites watched with him. But it was Seth Border, the man who sat behind the two keyboards and manipulated those numbers, who held most of Clive’s attention.
Seth insisted on working alone, without the distraction of propeller heads leaning over his shoulder. Their breathing bothered him. Three days had passed since Seth’s apprehension. Testing him was Clive’s idea; testing him in the war room was Smaley’s.
But testing a man’s mind required his willing participation, so Clive and Seth reached a simple compromise. The government would drop all of its charges against Seth in exchange for his cooperation. On the way to the Las Vegas airport, Clive explained the consequences of aiding and abetting a known fugitive and then presented their deal. Seth looked out the window, silent, and finally nodded.
Smaley arranged for the tests at NORAD and actually arrived in Colorado Springs before Clive and Seth. The deputy secretary had developed a fascination for the case. It took a day to modify the scenario programs with Seth’s help, during which time he remained quiet and introspective.
Clive spent four hours debriefing him on the chase while the geeks set up the computers according to Seth’s specifications. Apart from engaging him on a string of fascinating though rather trivial facts, Clive came away with three significant conclusions.
One, Seth might have saved Saudi Arabia from a coup by breaking the law and aiding Miriam.
Two, with or without his clairvoyance, Seth’s cognitive powers surpassed Clive’s greatest expectations. Destroying a mind like Seth’s would indeed have been like killing a young Einstein or Sir Isaac Newton.
And three, Seth’s clairvoyance was changing. What had started out as an increasing ability to see possible futures now fluctuated like a swinging pendulum between massive breadths of sight and a complete loss of it. Seth could see beyond himself and clearly beyond Miriam, but only sometimes.
“This is incredible,” General Smites said, breaking the silence. He crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. “If I wasn’t watching it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t buy it for a second. How many of these simulations has he completed?”
“Sixteen in the last two days,” one of the techs, Garton, said.
“And he’s won them all?”
Garton nodded. “The first battles were oversimplified sea battles in which he commanded a single destroyer against a slightly superior force. We moved him up to tank battles with odds stacked in the enemy’s favor and then on to full-scale invasions.”
“So he just sees what’s going to happen and counters it?”
“Not exactly,” Garton said, tapping his pencil on the window. Seth turned toward the noise, eyes darting. Garton held up his hands in apology, and Seth dived back into the simulation in front of him.
He wasn’t unlike an overgrown kid playing the world’s most complex video games, battling the likes of IBM’s ASCI White, a computer that ran at a speed of 7,226 gigaflops. One gigaflop was equal to a billion mathematical operations per second. Even for a man with Seth’s capabilities, the task was daunting, and he hated distractions.
“Strung pretty tight,” Smaley said.
“Wouldn’t you be?” Clive said. “He’s holding countless bits of information in his mind, tracking each from one moment to the next and adjusting for countless variations. I get a headache just thinking about how he does it.”
Garton smiled. “And that’s only half of it.” He looked down the windowpane to the general. “He’s not seeing the future, just possible futures. There’s a big difference. If he were seeing what’s going to happen, that would be easy enough. But evidently the future doesn’t work that way. I mean, what’s going to happen one minute from now hasn’t been decided yet. If a tank is standing on the battlefield facing ten enemy tanks, the future may hold a thousand possible outcomes, depending on decisions the commander makes. Seth has to see them all and choose those in which his tank destroys the other ten tanks and escapes unscathed. That might entail a half-hour battle and a unified string of decisions chosen from a
million possible decisions.”
He chuckled and faced Seth again. “Now try that with a thousand tanks, each facing ten tanks, and try commanding all thousand tanks at once. If you can imagine that, you have an idea of what he was doing yesterday.”
A few moments drifted by. Clive couldn’t imagine it, not really; none of them could.
“And what’s he doing today?” the general asked.
Garton took a deep breath. “Today he’s directing a zero-casualty campaign.”
General Smites’s eyes skipped to the techs and then back to Seth.
“It was actually his idea,” Garton said. “Took us most of the night to set it up.”
“A battle in which he incurs zero casualties?”
“Sort of. That was his initial idea, but we took it further. It’s not a battle; it’s a war, and he’s trying to win it without any casualties on his side.”
The general came off his heels and stared at Seth, who hunkered over the desk, hands flying nonstop over the keyboards.
“This boy’s invaluable.”
“Actually, it’s more than just a war,” Garton said. “It’s a nuclear offensive. Question: How do you win a worldwide nuclear offensive without sustaining a single casualty?”
“That’s possible?” It was Smaley this time.
The tech they called J.P. answered. “Winning is possible, yes. This morning, at 0843 our time, Seth saw two different futures in which the United States could launch a full-scale attack, including the use of nukes on China, parts of the former Soviet bloc, several Arab states, and a dozen smaller targets, and walk away pretty much having a lock on world power.”
Smaley cackled. “Seth knows how to take over the world?”
“Not necessarily. I’m telling you that he saw two unique futures in which that would have happened if the United States had done specific things beginning at 0843 our time. It’s now 1315. Those futures don’t exist anymore. The premier of China might have eaten a bad steak for lunch, gotten indigestion, and as a result might now react differently to the news of incoming nukes than he would have if they were launched before he ate the steak. Seth’s seeing a ton of stuff, but he can still only see three hours out.”