“How did you come by all this information?” I ask.
“First, unlike you, I’m actually good at research,” he jests. “When I get a name, I find out as much as I can about them. Second, and probably more important, I found a tablet during one of my trips. It was encrypted to the nth degree, but I have a few friends in government who specialize in decryption. It took them six months . . . Imagine that! Six months to crack it. But they did.”
“Are you crazy?” I say. “You just said that these guys are dangerous, and you steal one of their tablets?”
Andrew smiles. “They have no idea I have it. Like I said, they think they’re playing me for a chump.”
Our conversation ends when the cockpit door opens and Bruce tells us we’re about to land. If Andrew’s goal was to pique my interest, he did a very good job of it.
CHAPTER 13
The Lecture
About an hour beforehand, I walk into the large ballroom where I’ll give my speech. Expecting to see only a few caterers and technicians setting up the room, I’m surprised to see Kinsley there with three other men near the stage. Two men leave with a pat on the back from Kinsley when he sees me enter. The other man walks with Kinsley toward me.
My blood begins to boil at the sight of Kinsley. I had played this moment over and over in my mind since I found out that Paige and Kinsley know each other. Now, though, all those scenarios fade, leaving me with only a general sense of anger. I tell myself that now is not the time for my imagined discussion. There will be another time. Right now, I need to focus on the task at hand. I can’t yet play any cards.
Kinsley rubs his hands together. “Dr. Fields, you’re a punctual man. I like that. It lets me know that you like to be prepared.”
“The bigger the audience—both in terms of importance and in size—the more prepared that I want to be,” I respond.
“See, Bishop. I told you we hired the right man. Bishop, this is Dr. Thomas Fields. Thomas, this is Bishop,” Kinsley says.
“Bishop?” I jumped in. “Is that your Christian name . . . literally?”
In a deep, serious tone, he responds, “It’s a nickname from my youth. The first man I killed was a bishop.”
Kinsley laughs. “That was good. Where’d you come up with that? Quit teasing, though. You might frighten the professor before his big moment.”
Bishop smiles slightly. “I get asked that a lot. I thought I should have a few stories for answers. It’s simply a nickname I’ve had awhile. I got it when I was a kid. My best friend gave it to me. And it’s stuck.”
Kinsley takes over the conversation again. “Bishop and I have been colleagues for many years. We both want to see peace and stability throughout the globe, so we work together to put these types of things on.”
“Colleagues? Where? What is it you both do again?” I press.
Bishop wants to say something, but Kinsley touches his arm and answers, “I thought I told you. I’m vice president of business development for an international conglomerate. We contract with Bishop to help implement several of our strategies. From a business perspective, we try to keep our name out of most things. It’s more a shell than anything. That helps with taxes, politics, and such. Let’s just say there are many people who oppose our objectives. Our impact is felt much more at the local level, which is why we tout our local branches. For example, we love to see organizations like First Orchard achieve its goals.”
He is slick. I knew he wasn’t going to give me anything I could use.
“Well, we better let you get prepared,” Kinsley continues. “We have a lot of excited people coming tonight. It should be a packed house. We purchased a few hundred copies of your books. If you wouldn’t mind signing some of them after your speech, we would be honored. We’ll have a table set up over there. Of course we’ll pay you for your trouble.”
Bishop looks at me as he walks away. He doesn’t like me, and I can tell that’s a bad thing.
I walk around the room, moving between the tables and looking at the stage. It’s a silly ritual, but for important events, I like to have a feel of the room. My dad used to do the same thing on baseball fields when he was my Little League coach. Coaches always arrive early, but even by coaches’ standards, Dad arrived early. He would set out the equipment meticulously, and then he would go to the pitcher’s mound and rub the dirt in his hand as he assessed the infield. He would then walk the bases with his head down. I never knew why he did it, but it seemed to calm him. I guess walking around the tables at venues like this calms me as well.
I notice the First Orchard symbol on the tablecloths and napkins. The O looks like a piece of fruit, maybe an orange, and the F is part of the fruit’s stem. As I appraise the settings that are already made up, there is no doubt this is an expensive affair.
I spend the rest of my time in a small conference room waiting for the event to start. I’ve rehearsed the speech several times in my head, making sure I know when to place an emphasis. As I rehearse it one final time, something seems different about it. It seems forced, even contrived. I try to block that out and focus on my delivery. Time passes quickly as I work through it.
With twenty minutes to go before the event, I return to the ballroom. Twenty minutes is perfect, as it gives time for conversation with the attendees, but not too much time to spend with any one person. I walk in by a side door, and immediately Kinsley greets me. He seems to have been waiting for me. He shakes my hand, puts his arm around me, and escorts me to a group gathered near the podium. I perform the customary pleasantries and mingle. I play the charming role to perfection. I’ve practiced it for years. One of the other benefits of coming out early and meeting key people is that it gives me a sense of the audience. This audience is new money. I can tell by how they carry themselves, seemingly thinking they are more important than they really are. I’ve always felt like new money was reaching for something to be passionate about, searching for what they saw in old money, but knowing they didn’t want the same thing. It’s a theory I tell myself one day I’ll have to explore further.
The bad thing about being the speaker is that you have to leave your dinner early in order to speak. This time is no exception. I sample some of the food knowing I’ll be called to the podium soon. Kinsley introduces me. It’s more flattering than I expected, especially since it comes from someone who barely knows me. Evidently, his people were thorough in vetting me. Funny, how things stick in your mind when you’re walking toward a podium. For me, it’s the fact that Kinsley knows so much about me. I wonder how much he really knows. I’m sure Paige has divulged a fair share. Who else is in his pocket, giving him information about me?
When I speak, I feel the audience hanging on my words. People have stopped eating for the most part and are watching me as I pace across the stage. From my opening remarks, I’ve captured them. I know these people, and I know how to draw them in.
“Blood for oil. Blood for oil. We all heard the chants during the Iraq War. Maybe some of you even chanted those words. How smart we were to see through the Bush war agenda. He was after the oil, right? Wrong! They duped us. See, we thought we were being smart by discovering it. The truth is, they were happy that we went down that rabbit hole. Sure, Bush wanted the oil, but that isn’t what the war was about. This was a war that has raged for a thousand years. This was a continuation of the Crusades. This was a holy war! A war over religion! Bush and the secret Christian political circle desired to spread Christianity by force into the region. When we jumped on the oil bandwagon, they laughed. We were wrong! Now, the war still rages. Muslims versus Christians. Muslims versus Buddhists. Buddhists versus Christians. They do this in the name of God. What do they do in the name of humanity? A day is coming, though, when all people will realize that the only lasting peace will come when we put an end to religion, an end to God!”
I speak for about thirty minutes. When I finish, they give me a strong applause. I stay another two hours to sign books and talk with people. Most are very ent
husiastic about my speech and want to hear more. They all have unresearched theories they want to run past me. All of them except for one Messianic Jew. I’m not sure who invited him or why he has come, but I can’t shake our conversation from my mind.
He is an older man, about eighty years old. “Hello, Dr. Fields,” he says. “My name is David Rosenberg. I have traveled much.”
“Oh, whereabouts?” With his last name and accent, he sounds as if he spent his youth in Israel. “Have you spent much time in the Middle East?” I ask.
“The journey I speak of is a spiritual journey,” he replies. “I come from an Orthodox Jewish family, but I became a nonpracticing Jew in my twenties. By the time I was forty I was an agnostic with no room in my heart for God. Now, I’m a Messianic Jew, and my journey is complete.”
“Maybe this is just a temporary landmark,” I reply.
“My time is short, Dr. Fields. God is finally calling me home. I know it will be difficult for you to believe, but Jesus himself told me to come to this function. Maybe my whole journey has led me to this moment. I don’t know. What I do know is that you are a well-educated man with a gift for speech.”
“Thank you,” I say, hoping he would move on. The mention of Jesus has made me uncomfortable.
He doesn’t move but continues our conversation. “You are well educated, but you are a foolish man. I hope your gift of memory is as strong as your gift of speech. I was sent to tell you Proverbs 2:1–5, that says, ‘My son, if you accept my words and store up my commands within you, turning your ear to wisdom and applying your heart to understanding, and if you call out for insight and cry aloud for understanding, and if you look for it as for silver and search for it as for hidden treasure, then you will understand the fear of the Lord and find the knowledge of God.’”
I stare at him for a moment. “Proverbs 2. I think I can remember that,” I say.
He touches my forehead with his hand, and in a whisper, he says, “‘Wisdom will save you from the ways of wicked men, from men whose words are perverse.’”
CHAPTER 14
The Weekend
The preparation, the lecture, the conversations, the old Jewish man—all of it has left me exhausted. I decide not to go to Kinsley’s party. Instead, I relax in the suite I share with Andrew. Andrew tells me that I’m foolish. He says, “These are the events you don’t want to miss.”
But my mind is still churning over everything that’s happened these last few days. My curiosity after my conversation on the plane with Andrew has only increased. I decide tonight is the perfect opportunity to look at the information on the Principal that Andrew started to show me. Fortunately, his briefcase is unlocked and open when I wander into his room. His lack of precaution amazes me. I quickly find the folder with the information and take it back to my room. There’s a flash drive in the folder, but I wait to look at it. Many of the names I see I’ve never heard of, but Andrew has annotated most of them. Each is a head of state, a congressman, a senator, a board director, a CEO, a CFO, or a university president. I put my hand to my head. And now I am involved.
My hand to my head reminds me of the old Jewish man. I can’t shake the image of him. Placing his hand on my forehead and reciting those words: Wisdom will save you from the ways of wicked men, from men whose words are perverse. I open the Bible app on my laptop and begin to read Proverbs and enter various searches on verses containing the word wisdom.
While reading, I fall asleep. I wake up at three in the morning when Andrew stumbles into our suite. I notice the folder next to me with some of the papers strewn about and the flash drive. I stuff everything into the folder and shove it under my pillow. I hope he doesn’t notice the missing folder from his briefcase. I hear him singing in the kitchen. I decide that he’s probably not very attentive at the moment. A few minutes later he slams his door. He will be fast asleep soon. Self-consciously, I place the folder under my mattress.
By the time Bruce calls the next morning at eight o’clock sharp, letting us know that we will be leaving for the fairgrounds at nine, I’ve already exercised, showered, shaved, and dressed. I feel rested and ready for the day.
Andrew, on the other hand, is the opposite. It is clear that the phone call awakened him. He stumbles into the shared living room and aims himself toward the coffee brewer. I anticipated his mental state, and a hot cup is waiting for him. He doesn’t acknowledge my effort. In fact, he barely acknowledges my existence as he staggers back to his bedroom. I hear the shower turn on. I briefly think about replacing the documents in his case while he showers, but I decide against it. I doubt he will notice they are missing.
Andrew rushes out a few minutes before nine o’clock, looking like a different person. His spirits are up, and his appearance is in total order. “You missed a fantastic party last night,” he says.
I simply respond, “Let’s go.”
In the elevator, Andrew’s excitement from last night continues to grow. “You should see this redhead I met last night. “Smokin’ ” barely describes her. I’m going to see her at the party tonight. If you hear anything coming from my room tonight, just turn up your TV and don’t bother us.”
He’s clearly proud of himself. My lack of interest, however, doesn’t dissuade him from sharing even more.
“I almost forgot. She has a blonde friend. Amber. Or Alice. Ah, hell, I can’t remember. Regardless, she is smokin’ also and apparently heard your speech last night. She really wants to meet you. Score, baby! See, I’m always looking out for you.”
After we get to the fairgrounds and eventually arrive at the stadium, the Red River Rivalry game between Texas and Oklahoma flies by. It’s a rush of colors: burnt orange, white, and red. It’s an afternoon of pageantry, screaming, cheering, boos, bands, signs, and football. In the end, Texas wins a close game. This leaves about two-thirds of the people in our box in a good mood. Most of my time is spent meeting people, snacking, and enjoying some very decent liquor. I pretend to watch some of the game, but not enough to get a sense of what happened.
After the game, we spend some time walking around the fairgrounds. The Texas state fair is the only state fair I’ve ever attended, but I imagine Texas does it unlike any other state. Big Tex, for example, looms over the fair. This giant cowboy stands fifty-two feet tall, wears size seventy boots, has a seventy-five gallon hat, and booms out, “Howdy, folks!” The fair also has the Texas Star, purportedly the largest Ferris wheel in North America. And they have the most kinds of fried foods in the world, which I avoid.
It doesn’t take Andrew long to get bored with the average folks around us and the fair atmosphere. He is anxious to get back to the upscale climate he understands.
Bruce returns us to the hotel. When we arrive at the hotel, Bruce steps out of the car and hands both of us a card with his cell number on it. “Remember, if you need anything or you have any concerns, call me first.” Am I imagining or did he look at me when he spoke those words?
Going into the suite, I’m concerned Andrew might discover the missing papers. I’ve come up with an excuse if he does. I will play on his ego and let him know how much he intrigued me with his investigation and remind him that he was too busy with the redhead for me to ask for them. I think he would buy that, and it is partly true. It never becomes an issue, though. He goes into his room for a nap and then showers before the party.
I go into my room, shutting the door behind me, and turn on the television, though I don’t pay any attention to it. I open my laptop and resume my research on the Principal. It is a wasted effort, though. I don’t find out anything more about this secret organization. I look at the flash drive but decide not to look at its contents yet.
What I come to understand is that if Lucifer had not been directing me to do this, I would make this my last engagement with this organization. In the back of my mind I’m hoping Lucifer won’t require me to keep working with them. But based on everything he said, I know that won’t be the case. Somehow and in some way, the Antichrist
will emerge from this organization.
“Thomas! Let’s leave in about thirty minutes. I want to get there early,” Andrew yells through my door, disrupting my research and thoughts on the Principal.
I quickly put everything under the mattress again. I take a short shower and throw on some business casual clothes prior to going upstairs to the party. Andrew is pumped about his opportunity and about mine.
“You and Alicia should hit it off. I mean, if I didn’t have Tess, I would go after her.”
“Go after who? Is it Alice, Alicia, or . . . What was the other . . . Oh, yeah, Amber.” I pretend disinterest.
“We’ll know soon enough,” he says as we step out of the elevator.
The room is huge. It is long, with a band playing on a stage in the middle. Across from the band are steps on either side that lead to a balcony and walkway above the main floor. There are tables scattered throughout. There are also several bars stationed throughout the room, including one in the upstairs area. On either end of the room are some huge screens where people are playing video games. There are other smaller televisions showing some college football games. The room is somewhat dark, but it has well-placed lighting. Behind the band are huge windows overlooking the hotel lobby. Throughout the room, chaffing dishes and other food stations are set up. There is no shortage of food: fruit, pork medallions, chicken, shrimp, fajitas, nachos, salad, and so much more.
In his excited state, Andrew moves quickly through one of the bars, unaware that he has left me at the first stop. The bar is empty, so I dare not pass up this opportunity. I order my bourbon and Coke and chat briefly with the bartender. He is older, maybe in his midsixties.
Inside Lucifer's War Page 10