Boz handed the phone back to him. “I don’t want to give him time to think about it. I’d rather just show up and ask.”
This time it was Mac who laughed. “If I know my son, I’ve got fifty quid says he’s already planning on doing it anyway!”
CHAPTER 66
The trip north had been mostly uneventful. Keene and the convoy stayed on the interstate as much as they could, only taking side roads when they came through Hattiesburg, Meridian, and Tuscaloosa. Keene had sent a scout one mile ahead for the duration of the trip. Now as they approached Birmingham, they could already see the plumes of black smoke rising from the hilltops. Keene had put the brakes on everyone and set them in formation. He jumped out of the truck and called for a navigation specialist. A few minutes later, they had assessed the map and decided on how to proceed. About a mile and a half north, there was a secondary road that would take them out and around the city.
Jennings had informed them that most of the Chinese infantry hadn’t made it this far inland yet. Most of the concentration was in the northern and western cities, even though the Chao Qi fighters had already done their damage throughout the country.
Still, Keene didn’t want to take the chance. Even a small unit of five hundred infantry could pose a threat. It would cost them close to an hour of drive time, but they wouldn’t have to engage the enemy if there were Chinese there. Slowly, they approached the city and got off at the exit. Twenty miles north of the city, they connected back to the I-65 and proceeded on toward Nashville.
The last three hours of the trip were long and slow. Nashville was the biggest city they were to encounter. As they got near, they slowed even more to allow the scout vehicle to advance farther ahead. Keene had no intention of driving into an already established enemy hold. Even though the 101st was in Nashville’s backyard, the city was a major thoroughfare for interstate traveling, having three major interstates running through its core. He doubted the Chinese would be brave enough to try and set up a foothold there with Fort Campbell so close by, but he still wanted to be cautious.
Before they had even gotten to the I-840 bypass that would take them out and around the entire city and connect them over to I-24, the scout had returned with bad news. The city had already been devastated, and the road was out about a quarter mile south of the I-840 exchange. Once again, Keene decided to stop everyone.
“Hold ‘em up,” he said, keying the mic on the walkie-talkie. “Someone bring me a radio.”
Immediately, the long train of military vehicles came to a stop in the middle of the interstate. Keene stepped out and took the tactical radio.
“Hundred and first, this is General Jon Keene accompanied by the 81st training wing from Biloxi. You read me? Over.”
A few seconds passed with no response. He repeated the process again and waited. The phone burped and cracked and then a static-laced voice cracked from the other end.
“This is the one-oh-one. Over.”
Keene pressed the receiver button again. “We are sixty miles southeast of your position. You got eyes on the city?”
The line clicked a couple times, and then the voice came back. “Roger that, 81st. Got you on radar. The city has been hit pretty bad. Everything north of your position is impassable.”
“How’d you get left alone?” Keene asked.
“We didn’t. We’ve just got some pretty nice toys here, sir. By the time Pensacola and Fort Benning got hit, we’d had enough warning that we were able to defend ourselves. They hit the city first. Came in from the south. We took down three of the Chao Qis that advanced on the base, but the damage was already pretty much done to the city. They tried to air-drop some infantry and vehicles in at the airport, but we shot that down, too.”
“Hoo-rah!” Keene said.
“Yes, sir!” came the reply.
“So how am I going to get me and all these boys up there?”
“Thompson Station Road, sir. It’s about half a click from where you are. It’ll bring you back around to the I-840 bypass. You’re clear all the way in from there.”
“Roger that. We’ll be there shortly.”
“Sir?” The voice crackled.
“Yeah?”
“We’re under direct order from the Sec-Nav to bring you in once we heard from you. We have two Blackhawks scrambling right now. They’ll be at your position in fifteen minutes.”
“Unless those birds can carry all of us—the last time I checked, they couldn’t—I’ll see you in an hour. Out.”
Keene turned off the radio and circled a finger in a big winding motion above his head. “Let’s move out, people!”
He jumped back in the truck.
CHAPTER 67
Taylor sat in her rented Mercedes in front of the International Bank of Commerce on Al Rigga Street in Dubai’s financial district. It was odd, she thought, that in the United States, Mercedes was a symbol of status and wealth, while in other nations it was nothing more than the typical rental. They were as common as a Toyota back home.
It was shortly after opening hours, and the traffic going in and out was steady. She had spent the entire rest of the flight hacking her way through a money trail that was sophisticated, well thought out, and extremely well hidden. Just not well enough. If she was right, and she believed she was, this was where Marianne would turn up.
Three hundred and fifty million dollars. That was the amount she was able to trace. Of course, with banking fees—wire transfers and commission on monetary exchange—the final sum was somewhere around three hundred and twenty-six million. Still, a generous amount by any standard. But nowhere near worth the damage the woman had caused.
She kept thinking about how this fit in with what the Prophet had said. While she wanted, just as much as anyone back home, to find this woman and make her pay for what she’d done, she couldn’t help but wonder if somehow it could’ve all been stopped. The Prophet had warned them to have President Grant go and tell the American people to repent and turn back to God. And President Grant was going to do that. So why, then, was all this still happening? She stopped for a moment and silently thanked God that she didn’t have any family back home. She was an only child, and her parents had passed away a couple years ago. But her heart was still broken for her fellow citizens. And because she had been running nonstop for the last two days, she realized she hadn’t even allowed the weight of what had happened back home sink in. She glanced up from her laptop and took in the area again. Still no sign of Marianne.
The last thing she wanted was to take her focus off the bank. But she became overwhelmed with emotion as she sat there, considering the enormity of what had happened. She needed some strength. She needed some reassurance. She reached into her bag and pulled out her Bible. She thumbed through a few passages she had marked. They always seemed to lift her up and restore her hope.
She thumbed through the passages for about fifteen minutes, taking a moment every few seconds to glance back at the front of the building. She was about to put the Bible away but stopped. She had only been familiar with a couple verses of the chapter, but she felt like God’s Spirit was pressing her to go there and listen to what was written. She flipped through the pages and looked for the passage. Isaiah 55. She had only started reading, but by the time she had gotten to verse four, her heart began to fill with joy.
Behold, I made him a witness to the peoples, a leader and commander for the peoples. Behold, you shall call a nation that you do not know, and a nation that did not know you shall run to you, because of the LORD your God, and of the Holy One of Israel, for he has glorified you.
Seek the LORD while he may be found; call upon him while he is near; let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts; let him return to the LORD, that he may have compassion on him, and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon. For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts
than your thoughts.
For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven and do not return there but water the earth, making it bring forth and sprout, giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater, so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth; it shall not return to me empty, but it shall accomplish that which I purpose, and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it. For you shall go out in joy and be led forth in peace.
She wiped her eyes and thought about what she had just read. She closed her eyes and prayed, Father, I believe with all my heart that You have brought all of this to pass for a purpose. And Your word says that our ways are not Your ways, and our thoughts are not Your thoughts. But, Lord, I believe You have shown me this scripture today for a purpose. I know that Isaiah was speaking to Your people. But aren’t we Your people, too? Please, Lord. Let this scripture be a promise for us today, also. Please, Father, spare our nation and lead us back to You. I ask You in Jesus’ name. Amen.
As she lifted her head and opened her eyes, she got an overwhelming sense of peace and affirmation. She wasn’t sure yet what was going to happen, but she definitely knew that God had reassured her that He was in control. And while everything was in chaos right now, eventually He would still the chaos and bring restoration.
She closed the Bible and placed it back in her bag. She decided that sitting inside this cramped car wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Besides, she needed to use the restroom. She decided to go see what the inside of the International Bank of Commerce looked like.
She entered the double doors and found a spacious lobby. Along one wall was a station of kiosks with computer monitors and automated banking. The other held typical teller stations for everyday banking. At the far end of that wall stood a set of elevators, manned by an armed guard. In the center of the room was an information desk with two men, dressed in finely tailored suits, sitting, monitoring the goings-on of the large room. At the back end of the room were signs for public restrooms, and in front of that was another, larger kiosk that housed a snack vendor. She could already smell the aroma of the fresh hot coffee.
She tried to think of something clever to ask the men at the desk but decided against it. She didn’t want to attract any more attention than she already was. She smiled curtly at the men and moved toward the restrooms. When she was finished, she stepped up to the counter and ordered the largest cup they had. The man handed her a coffee and her change and nodded. As she turned around to leave, she pulled up short. Across the room, the doors to the front entrance were opening. And another American was entering.
She’d changed her hair. And the clothes were casual not business professional. She wore oversized sunglasses to hide her eyes, and her collar was pulled up to shield her face. Taylor immediately sat down beside the snack kiosk in one of the several chairs that were there for customers. There was a newspaper sitting on the table, so she opened it and hid herself as the woman walked past her, only several feet away, and stepped up to the elevator guard.
Taylor shifted in her seat slightly to get a better look at the elevators. The woman had some kind of ID badge and was now placing her hand on some device the guard had produced. Megan had seen them before. Portable ID scanners. They could be programmed to receive hand- and fingerprints, retina scans, or even voice analysis. This one seemed to be simple enough. The woman only had her hand on the thing for a moment before the guard stepped aside and gave her a key card. This was for the elevator itself, Taylor presumed. She watched as the woman disappeared into the elevator and the doors closed. She waited a few seconds and then stood up, took one giant last gulp of the coffee, and threw it away. She nodded to the guy at the information desk as she left.
When she got to the car, she pulled her laptop and phone out. Looking up at the entrance door every second or two—determined not to miss her coming out—she went to work attaching the small clip to her phone. She logged in to the satellite and placed the call.
“This is Jennings.”
“Can you talk?”
“Hang on.”
She heard the voices in the background get quieter. And then she heard a door close.
“Okay. What do you need?”
“I’ve found her.”
“Do you have her in custody?”
“Not yet. I tracked her to a bank here in Dubai. I’m waiting for her to come out. I’ll follow her and see where she goes.”
“I don’t care where she goes. I care where she ends up.”
“I got that. I just wanted to know if you could tell me if the CIA has any assets here in Dubai. Or if there’s a house, somewhere I can take her. I don’t think you want me dragging her into my hotel.”
The line was quiet for a second, and then Jennings said, “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll call you back.”
“I may not have ten minutes. She just went in. I almost walked right into her. If she comes out, I’m going to have to move quick.”
“Okay, then just call me back when you can. I’ll have what you need then.”
“Will do.” Then, “Any word?”
She heard Jennings take a long breath and blow it out again. She could imagine him standing there pinching the bridge of his nose.
“It’s not good. The Chinese fighter jets have hit every highly populated city and military base in the country west of the Appalachian Mountains. The only reason, we believe, they haven’t advanced on the East Coast is they’re waiting until they can get infantry in place. That, and it’s really the only defense systems we have left in country. We have a handful of ships between Andrews and Norfolk. We have roughly sixty F-35 and F-22 jets combined. The problem is, we don’t have enough pilots here to fly them. But the Chinese don’t know that. So they’re staying in the Midwest, for now. But it’s only a matter of time before they hit us. We’re sure.”
“What about Jon? Any word from him?” As she asked, she felt a small lump in her throat.
“He’s okay. He checked in a couple hours ago. He’s at the 101st Airborne Division, north of Nashville. They’ve got a fair amount of troops there and a ton of artillery. Now it’s just a matter of getting them mobilized.”
She was relieved to hear Jon was all right. For now. “So what’s the plan?”
“It’s thin, but Jon is waiting for the rest of the scattered divisions to show up. From there, we’re going to try and mount an offensive. The plan is for us to communicate to as many citizens as we can to find their way east of the Appalachians. If Jon and those guys can hold the Chinese off enough to get that done, we can defend the East Coast. By that time, we should be seeing our Navy and a ton of our boys coming back in.”
“How long?” Megan asked.
“Minimum a week. More like ten days.”
Holding the Chinese off for ten days was highly improbable. According to Jennings, they had already dropped infantry throughout Chicago, Detroit, Indianapolis, Columbus, and Cincinnati in the north. The Midwestern cities were the same. And with the Chinese moving in artillery on the heels of the air attacks, the American people were cowering, waiting to see what would happen. As soon as the Chinese realized they weren’t going to get any resistance, they would press on, bringing in even more ground troops and more artillery. They had a couple days at best.
“Sir, you and I know that we don’t have ten days.”
“I told you, it’s pretty thin.”
“What about all the people in the central part of the country?”
“We’re going to set up blockades with air support at all the Appalachian mountain passes. Even if it takes people two weeks to get to one of them, we’ll get them through. But there are those who will stay. They won’t resist. And the Chinese don’t want to come in here and destroy the country. They just want the land and the resources. Once they have people under submission, they’ll just continue moving forward.”
“What about Boz? Any word from him?”
“I haven’t heard from him. But no one is going to help. They can’t. The Chinese would crush anyone wh
o tried to help us. They’ve already bullied the Mexicans. We know now that they’ve been using Canada for the last ten years to bring in their military. They probably threatened Canada with the same attack if they resisted. It’s brilliant, actually. No one’s on our side on this one.”
“Not even the UK?”
“Especially not the UK. The English prime minister is the softest politician they’ve had in twenty years. And with the damage the last administration did to our relationship with them, they’re acting like they don’t even know us. We have to hold out till our troops get home. And even then, we’re going to need an act of God.”
Taylor felt her breath hitch. She thought back to what the passage had said in Isaiah: “… and a nation that did not know you shall run to you, because of the Lord your God.”
“Don’t worry, sir. I think we’re going to get one,” she said.
Just then the doors to the bank opened. Marianne Levy walked out, checked her surroundings, pushed the sunglasses up on her nose, and took off walking down the street.
“I have to go,” she said quickly. “She’s on the move.”
CHAPTER 68
It was just before lunch when Boz and Mac entered the pub at Pickford’s Wharf on Clink Street. It was a decent place—good food, good ale, according to Mac. Neither of that mattered to Boz right now. He wasn’t much hungry, and he didn’t want to be all that noticed anyway. Mac’s son Eli was already enough of a celebrity, depending on who was around at the time. Mac had said that this was a good place to meet. Not a lot of nosy people and not a typically frequented place for guys like Eli.
As they waited, Boz watched the small television hanging above the bar. It was a BBC news program, and the discussion was the same one on every news station around the world: the Chinese invasion of the United States. The topic was how it could have happened and whether or not anyone was going to come to the aid of the suffering country. And it was getting heated. There was a disagreement as to whether or not Prime Minister Bungard and the Royal Navy should run to the aid of their former longtime ally.
The 13: Fall Page 25