Silenced

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “You’re not leaving, are you?” she said.

  “I really must.”

  “You won’t allow me to thank you for your kindness?”

  “The coffee was more than enough.”

  “Aw,” she whined, “surely not.” And she moved toward him, reaching for his coat. He moved away. “You don’t fancy me?”

  “Actually, very much. You’re really a beautiful girl.”

  “I am more than a girl, Ray.”

  “You know what?” he said. “I’m not going to do this. Don’t make me insult you or appear ungrateful for the offer, but I’m leaving. Thanks again and good night.”

  As he strode to the door she called after him, “You know where I am. If you change your mind, any time of the day or night, I’ll be here.”

  The phone rang at the Decenti home at about 3 p.m. Sunday. The kids were at the football game with their uncle and aunt.

  The call was from Bia Balaam for Ranold. “Hold a minute, Chief,” he said. “Is this something Jae might want to hear?”

  He waved her to the phone, and as soon as Jae realized what she was about to hear, she was tempted to leave the room. But she could not pull herself away. She sat next to her father as he switched the phone to speaker mode.

  “This is all you’ve got on him, Ms. Balaam?”

  “Yes. I fear the bug was either malfunctioning or he was out of range all day. You’re going to find this strange and out of character, General, and you, Mrs. Stepola, may be encouraged by it. But don’t be fooled. One bit of intelligence we did pick up from Ms. Caresse is that Paul emerged from a car that was not issued to him by the French bureau.”

  “Is that so?” Ranold said.

  Jae was still stewing about Paul’s being out of character and her being expected to be encouraged by that. Maybe he had been in character; had they thought of that?

  “Ms. Caresse feigned a fall in front of Agent Stepola to get his attention,” Bia explained. “The first thing we hear from him is in response to that.”

  “Whoops!”

  “I think I sprained it. Can you tell?”

  Jae rolled her eyes. How transparent, and how weak of Paul to not see it.

  “Maybe you just twisted it. Want to try to stand on it?”

  “In a second. Your hand is so warm.”

  Oh, please! Jae listened as the woman got Paul to walk her to a table, insist that she owed him a drink, and then respond to Paul’s self-deprecating comment about always having been a klutz.

  “Oh no! Not you. You carry yourself with such grace. You must have been an athlete.”

  “Played a little ball.”

  Jae shook her head. He was biting. The drivel about the woman’s name sickened Jae.

  Then: “So you were caressing a bird.”

  “Was I?”

  “You were. And I’m already feeling much better, sir.”

  “Ray. Ray Decenti.”

  Jae had to cover her mouth to hide a grin as her father appeared to nearly choke.

  Finally the woman got to the part about being alone.

  “You don’t have to rush off, do you?”

  Bia Balaam said Jae would be encouraged. Did that mean Paul would resist this obvious come-on?

  “I won’t keep you long. Please. I might not be able to make it all the way with my injury.”

  Laughter. Footsteps. Elevator noises. A door opening.

  Jae was dying.

  “Wow. It is palatial.”

  “Come see the view.”

  A door shutting.

  Gag me, Jae thought.

  “I really have to get going.”

  Attaboy, Paul!

  “Just look at this. The City of Light.”

  “Spectacular. . . . Okay. Thank you. You all right now?”

  “You’re not leaving, are you?”

  “I really must.”

  “You won’t allow me to thank you for your kindness?”

  Jae held her breath.

  “The coffee was more than enough.”

  “Aw, surely not. You don’t fancy me?”

  “Actually, very much. You’re really a beautiful girl.”

  “I am more than a girl, Ray.”

  Jae closed her eyes and actually wished for the first time that she was a praying woman.

  “You know what? I’m not going to do this. Don’t make me insult you or appear ungrateful for the offer, but I’m leaving. Thanks again and good night.”

  “You know where I am. If you change your mind, any time of the day or night, I’ll be here.”

  “That’s all there is,” Bia said. “A bit of TV noise in his room after that, but that’s all.”

  Jae felt as if she could fly.

  “No phone calls?” Ranold said, sounding disappointed. “Is he not in contact with anybody?”

  “If he’s making calls,” Bia said, “it’s from outside the hotel. And this bug is not long range, you know. General, hold on, please. I’m getting something right now. Here it is.”

  “Hey, it’s me. . . . Good. Had a long discussion with Raison’s people today. It’s time to marshal the international underground church, everybody, to again pray that God will act.”

  Silence.

  “We can’t hear the other guy?” Ranold said.

  “Apparently not.”

  “Who is it anyway?”

  “No idea.”

  Then they heard more: “Thanks. He’s finally ready to help me with Magnor.”

  Silence.

  “You’re recording this, right, Chief?”

  “Of course.”

  “This could be huge.”

  “You bet.”

  “You’re kidding. . . . You did? I know you told me God puts it on someone’s heart and—it’s just that when He was prompting you to pray for me, He was prompting me to pray for Jae. Go figure. . . . Yeah, well, maybe He is working in her life. Nothing would make me happier. . . . I’ll talk to you tomorrow. The old man sent Bia Balaam over here, pretending she’s here for the announcement in Bern tomorrow. She just happened to check into my hotel, so she could see the attack site, of course. . . . Yeah, that’s what I said. Anyway, I’m running her to the airport first thing in the morning. That’s what, about 10 p.m. your time? I’ll call you.”

  “Have we all heard enough?” Ranold said. “I have.”

  “More than enough,” Bia said. “Guess I’d be disappointed if he bought everything I said. What kind of agent would he be if he couldn’t see through this?”

  “Big question now is, has he flipped, or is he infiltrating the underground?”

  “Sounded pretty convincing to me,” Bia said. “All that prayer business. What do you think, Jae?”

  “I hope he’s just playing up to the underground,” she said. “But it didn’t sound like it.” All Jae cared about was saying enough to get herself sent over there.

  “You realize what you’re saying, honey?” Ranold said.

  “Yes.”

  “That’d be treason.”

  “I know. Or, like you’ve said, he’s that good. He’d have to be to succeed, wouldn’t he?”

  “You may have liked that he didn’t fall for the woman, but—”

  “But that’s nothing, Dad, compared to—”

  “What he may really be about. You ready to go help us find out?”

  “I don’t know. Do you really think I could help?”

  “Of course you could.”

  “I agree,” Bia said, convincing Jae that she could play elusive a little longer and still get to go.

  “I don’t know. I hate to leave the kids right now, and I’m not trained in this.”

  “We can give you a crash course,” Bia said. “We’ve got to find out who this Raison is, where they meet, how many there are, and especially what your husband meant when he said Raison was willing to help with Magnor. Is he going to protect Magnor, work with him, what?”

  “I’m willing if there’s really something you think I can do,” Jae said
.

  “I’ll arrange a flight for the morning,” Ranold said.

  Before Jae went to start packing, her father asked her if she thought Paul had been talking to Stuart Rathe. In truth, that’s exactly what she thought, and her mind was racing with all the implications. Paul wasn’t trying to play up to anyone; he seemed to be talking with a friend who shared his views.

  “I have no idea.”

  “Put that on your list. He mentioned the time difference, which sounds like the Midwest to me. Let’s see if we can find out who that is. That’ll tell us how legit Paul’s underground contacts are.”

  Jae packed her New Testament discs with her other stuff and thought how easy it had been to boldly lie to her father. He had always claimed he could tell someone was lying by watching their pupils and detecting other “tells.” But when she had told that whopper, that she had no idea who Paul had been talking to, she had been looking at Ranold dead-on.

  23

  PAUL KNEW THAT IF HE didn’t get to bed before midnight, he would be good for nothing, having to rise the next morning by four-thirty to get Bia Balaam to the airport. But he had a chore that wouldn’t wait.

  He sat on a couch overlooking the city, his laptop on his knees, crafting a response to the government’s announcement. This he would send to Straight, who would run it past the underground leadership in Detroit, Washington, L.A., Bern, Rome, Paris, and all the other contacts around the world. Each faction would be free to copy, forward, and disseminate the document as far and wide as they dared, including to all the major news organizations in their respective countries.

  It read:

  To: The Honorable Baldwin Dengler, Chancellor of the International Government of Peace, Bern, Switzerland

  From: The worldwide church of believers in the one true God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and God’s Son, Jesus the Christ

  Re: Your decree, announced this Monday, January 21, 38 P.3., which we call the year of our Lord, A.D. 2047

  Chancellor Dengler:

  We aver that the current world system, which has banned for nearly four decades the practice of religion by people of faith, is an abomination in the sight of almighty God.

  We believe that you and your government, as well as most of your loyal citizens, are unaware of the size and potential influence of a people that has, by your actions, been pushed underground and forced to practice their faith illegally.

  We ask that you rescind immediately the decree announced today and put a moratorium on laws prohibiting the practice of religion until you can determine how people of faith can peaceably live in this society without fear of reprisal.

  We are beseeching our God to act in judgment, should this request not be carried out within forty hours of when the decree is announced, or midnight, Bern Time, Tuesday, January 22. We believe that He will act to deliver us from you, our oppressor, as He did in Los Angeles, California, last year.

  We respectfully warn that you will regret ignoring this request, as we are calling upon God to specifically act as He did thousands of years ago against Pharaoh in Egypt, when Pharaoh refused to let the children of Israel flee his domain.

  We refer you to the Old Testament account of the ten plagues God unleashed against Egypt. There are those among us who are asking God to eschew the first nine plagues and to refrain from hardening your heart, and it is our heartfelt wish that you avoid the dire consequences of the tenth plague at the forty-hour mark. Short of this, we fear that God may not limit this plague to the seat of the government but rather that it will affect the entire world.

  To our brothers and sisters around the globe, we remind you that you need not feel bound by the Old Testament caveat of protecting your own households by sprinkling blood on your doorposts to identify yourself. We believe the blood of Christ has already been shed on your behalf and that God knows His own.

  In conclusion: Rescind the loyalty decree, lift the laws against the practice of religion, or proceed at your own peril.

  For your reference, following is the text of the carrying out of the tenth plague on Egypt, which we fear God may administer upon those who turn a deaf ear to our plea:

  So Moses announced to Pharaoh, “This is what the Lord says: About midnight I will pass through Egypt. All the firstborn sons will die in every family in Egypt, from the oldest son of Pharaoh, who sits on the throne, to the oldest son of his lowliest slave. Even the firstborn of the animals will die. Then a loud wail will be heard throughout the land of Egypt; there has never been such wailing before, and there never will be again.”

  . . . And at midnight the Lord killed all the firstborn sons in the land of Egypt, from the firstborn son of Pharaoh, who sat on the throne, to the firstborn son of the captive in the dungeon. Even the firstborn of their livestock were killed. Pharaoh and his officials and all the people of Egypt woke up during the night, and loud wailing was heard throughout the land of Egypt. There was not a single house where someone had not died.

  When Paul had polished the manifesto, he checked his watch and realized it was late afternoon in Chicago. He called Straight but got his machine. “I want to read you this thing, Straight. Call me as soon as you can.”

  Paul sat hanging his head. Was it possible God would do this? Would He finally lose patience, run out of mercy, act as He had in the days of old? Paul didn’t know how to pray—that God would do it or not do it. Such a catastrophe would eliminate any hope of these millions of slain firstborns ever entering the kingdom.

  Seconds later Jae called, speaking quickly. “Paul, don’t say my name. Say as little as possible. You have been compromised. Listen, I couldn’t call until I was able to break away from my parents’ house under the guise of a last outing with the kids before I leave for Europe.”

  “Eur—?”

  “Just listen. I’ve been enlisted to help bring you down, and I’ll be there late tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Is—?”

  “Paul! Listen! Balaam planted a bug on you. Probably on whatever jacket you were wearing when you greeted her. It has a short range, but she picked up your whole conversation with the young woman. You were set up.”

  Oh no! “Yes,” Paul said. “Thank you, sir. I’ll pick that up at the desk then?”

  “And she played for Dad and me your side of the conversation with Straight.”

  Paul shuddered. They had talked about prayer and the underground, and he had even mentioned Raison. “Yes, I’m leaving the hotel early tomorrow morning, so I’ll stop by.”

  “You didn’t mention his name, but you said something about what time it would be where he was, and Dad assumed the Midwest. Paul, hear me. I’m on your side. I believe you’re playing up to the underground to infiltrate them. If I’m wrong, well, then you’re going to take me down with you. I’ve got to go, but I wanted to warn you about the bug. I love you, I miss you, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Same to you, sir, and thank you very much. Good night.”

  As soon as Jae hung up, Straight called. “Hey, it’s me. What’ve you got?”

  “Yes, I already got that message. I’m picking it up in the morning.”

  “What?”

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “What’s going on, Paul?”

  “I appreciate it, and can you call me when you know anything about my laundry?”

  “You want me to call you back?”

  “When you have it figured out, yes.”

  “I’ll call you back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Paul paced for five minutes, hoping Straight would put two and two together. The tone sounded in his mouth. “Stepola.”

  “You’re being bugged; is that it?”

  “Yes, thank you. That’ll be fine.”

  “You finished the document, but now you can’t read it to me.”

  “Right. No, late morning will be fine.”

  “Can you transmit it to me?”

  “Sure.”

  “And when you’re somewhere secure, y
ou’ll get back to me?”

  “That works for me. Thanks again.”

  Paul knew he would never sleep. This was as close as he had ever come to being found out, and he racked his brain to recall if he had totally given himself away.

  His overcoat had to have the bug. Would he be able to find the bug without making so much noise that it was obvious he was looking for it? Better than destroying it, he decided, was to use it to his advantage. He opened the closet door where his coat hung so the transmission would be even clearer. And he would be wearing the same coat in the morning on the ride to the airport. Bia would be asleep by now, but she would check the recording when she rose.

  Paul added a line to the cover page of the manifesto, reminding underground factions to hold it until after the decree had been announced in their time zones, and then to get it to everyone they knew.

  Then he phoned his boss, Bob Koontz, in Chicago. “Sorry to bother you at home, Bob. Just wanted to check in and thank you again for releasing me for this assignment.”

  “Yeah, how’s it going, buddy?”

  “Frankly, it couldn’t be better, Bob. I’m good, you know that?”

  Koontz laughed. “I’ve been trying to tell you that for years. So, what’s happening?”

  “I’ve got the patter down, Bob, the lingo. I’ve infiltrated the underground here and in Rome, and I’ve got enough on these people that I think they’re going to lead me to Magnor himself.”

  Bob swore appreciatively. “You serious?”

  “I’ll keep you posted. The Rome people meet in an abandoned cathedral about an hour south of the city. They’re small and ineffective, but there is some tie to Magnor. They say he’s headquartered in Germany. In France the biggest zealot underground faction is based in Marseille. I’m in good with them. Guy named Raison Arnaud is their top guy. He was mentored by Magnor.”

  “Man, you’ve really made progress. How soon before you can get to Magnor himself?”

  “I’m hoping within two weeks.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah, wow.”

  “This will be a major, major deal for you, Paul.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Oh, it will,” Koontz said. “Guess you know what’s coming down tomorrow.”