The Click

by Steve Shear

  As she wrestled with all that, her scud rang. It was Rosewall.

  “Are you there?”

  “See for yourself.” She clicked her scud into view mode and scanned the area with it.

  “Good. Just stay alert. I have a meeting with McGivney in a little while and will learn more. He’s been somewhat secretive. Not sure what’s up but just be ready. And one other thing. I want you to get into that Jewish School of Learning before we blow it to hell. One of my sources at the Vatican told me they didn’t believe Hitchcock and his people were still there.”

  “Impossible! Half of VAMA has to be here and they must have the entire school surrounded. It would have taken a resurrection for Hitchcock to get out.”

  “Well I doubt that God’s on their side so let’s assume they’re still there.”

  “And this Spanish Armada that I’m looking at, do we know where in the hell they’re going?” Rousseau asked.

  “I can only guess. McGivney is pulling the strings at the UN. Hopefully I’ll know more soon.”

  ****

  Two DanShebans guarded Julian Iscar in a cabin below deck the entire time they were afloat, and Hitchcock hadn’t talked to him since they entered the gate at the School of Learning. At the moment, he sat with Meta in a cabin across the hall but could see Julian’s back.

  “Oliver?” Meta said as she nodded toward Julian, but Hitch ignored her.

  “These Ethiopian Diamond Mines that DanSheba owns, they fund everything?”

  “More than enough and have forever. What about Julian?”

  “And there are DanShebans secretly living everywhere in the world shipping in new technology.”

  “Yes, and books. But we’ve already discussed much of that. Don’t change the subject.”

  “Yeah. It’s time I talk with my good friend.” He put it off long enough, he knew, but had difficulty all day reconciling Julian’s role in the entire affair. More perplexing was the fact that all the years they stood back to back in the most life-threatening situations, Julian never showed the least bit interest in God or any other spiritual enlightenment. Apparently, that was the way of Tarsusians.

  He stepped across the hall and called out to Julian to join him. Julian and his two guards rose from the table. Hitch motioned to the guards to stay put, then nodded to Julian, who still wore the loose fitting clothes of his Indian disguise and fake arm. They confronted one another above the barge’s wake, and Meta joined them seconds later.

  “This is how you treat your friends? Jesus, I’d hate to be your enemy,” Hitch said without flinching.

  “What?” Julian actually seemed surprised by Hitch’s comment.

  “Your buddy who saved you from bleeding to death in the desert. That would be me.”

  “Oliver…”

  “I trusted you. A Tarsusian, no less.”

  “You want to bring down the Church.”

  “Bring down the Church? No, I want to save my grandson.”

  “It’s always about you, Oliver. It’s always been about you. You are the most narcissistic son of a bitch I…”

  “It’s the president of the United States who wants to bring down your fucking church, and for good reason, you bastard.”

  Julian reached up into the sleeve of his fake arm and stepped back from Hitch. The arm fell to the deck. His good hand came out gripping a small laser pistol. He pointed it at Hitch. “I won’t allow it, my sacrilegious friend. Neither you nor your president will destroy us on such fallacious grounds. The Click is the work of God.”

  Hitch could not believe what he heard from someone with such high intellect. “Julian. The bastards have been lying their asses off. The Cūtocracy is a fraud. It’s over.”

  Meta stepped between them. “We have proof.”

  “Proof! Ha! We took it from your safe. The document is a forgery. The so-called Smotecal Decretum. You can dip a pig in gold and it is still a smelly pig. Our experts…”

  Meta laughed. “Fool! Do you think I would be stupid enough to keep the original at home? We DanShebans are masters at forgery. Your president has the original, fingerprints and all, and she is ready to tell the world.”

  Julian, still gripping his laser gun, stared at her. “Tell the world what?”

  “The truth. That the Click is manmade. That a deal was struck years ago between your Supreme Minister Innocent II and the Cūtocracy.”

  “Your high and mighty church knew what was going on all along,” Hitch added.

  “It watched the Cutocracy delay the vaccine until the Click was ready, causing millions of human beings to die in the meantime.”

  Julian began to shake. Hitch had never seen him look so conflicted. “No!” His head darted back and forth, first to Hitch, then Meta, and back again. He searched their eyes for a sign of the truth, then stepped back against the railing. He looked up for an answer.

  As if God Almighty gave him his orders, he swung his pistol around and aimed it at the man who saved his life and fired. Zing. Meta jumped in front of Hitch and took it in the arm. Hitch lunged toward Julian and took him down. They wrestled for the pistol. Zing. Julian went limp in Hitch’s arms.

  Hitch was now conflicted. They were friends, comrades in the trenches. He had saved Julian’s life and he knew well one doesn’t take the life of a person he once saved. He gently set Julian down. “I’m sorry my friend, but on Edna’s grave, they lied to you and the rest of the world. On my wife’s grave I swear it.”

  “Edna’s grave?” Julian gasped for air. He reached up and pulled Hitch down. “You need to know about Elana. She…” A last gasp and Julian died as Meta stood over them holding her arm.

  Hours later, in the middle of the night, after making sure Meta’s arm was cleaned and bandaged, Hitch stood alone at the bow of the barge and peered out into the lightless future. He would make sure his friend was properly buried. As he wondered exactly what that entailed for a man of his extreme faith, he heard someone whispering out his name. He pivoted and smiled. Elana approached.

  “If it weren’t for Julian,” she said taking his hand in hers.

  “I know, but it wasn’t exactly a benevolent act, at least not toward you.”

  He turned away from her. His gaze focused down, into the wake of the hull as it glided through the dark water. She moved close to his side. Their bodies brushed up against one another.

  “Then why?” she asked.

  “He really believed he was doing the work of God. Just the thought that his Church or even the Cūtocracy would betray God, he couldn’t handle that.”

  “But he betrayed you. He was CIA and your friend.”

  “Friend? Maybe, maybe not. CIA. Tarsusian. Cūtocrat. Librarian for sure. What the hell else was he?” Hitch gripped the railing so tight he couldn’t help but notice the pain across his knuckles. One of her hands covered his, warm, soft. He felt the other touch his thigh. He turned to her. She kissed him. He kissed back with such passion he felt dizzy. Their bodies came together; his groin pressed against hers. With their tongues clinched, his hand slipped under her blouse, up and down her braless back, into her bare buttocks. Her breathing became heavy.

  “Shanghai women don’t wear anything under…”

  “In the rush when I changed, it seems I forgot.”

  Hitch moved her to the raised side of the hull and lifted her skirt. She unzipped him, then wrapped her legs around his thighs. As the barge skimmed across still water, Elana’s muffled moans were swallowed up by the jungle’s rhythmic heartbeats.

  In the morning, everyone gathered on deck and were welcomed with coffee and rolls. They gazed ahead as the barge navigated the narrow river and multiple forks until a wharf with throngs of black people in colorful outfits burst into view. Reds and oranges, blues and greens, and yellows swirled among the crowd. Some waved bright purple handkerchiefs, others clapped. Meta nudged Hitch and pointed to a hill abutting a glassy multicolored mountain wall that reflected the sunrise. Hitch could hardly see beyond the wharf. It was as if the vill
age itself had disappeared.

  “Like you said, geography.”

  “And blackout shades at sunset come down automatically.”

  All of a sudden, something occurred to him. “Meta, Nagasi had a V-Mark.”

  “You mean like this?” She pulled up the sleeve of her good arm. The other arm was wrapped within a sling. “A tattoo so good even VAMA can’t tell the difference.”

  Hitch was about to respond, clearly impressed, but just then spied his daughter tremble as she watched Dr. Ringthaller bend over Christopher with his stethoscope.

  Meta reached over and gripped Hitch’s shoulder. “We dock in minutes. He’ll be taken directly to the hospital, a hospital like you’ve never seen. I promise.”

  Hitch took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and let it out. He turned back to Meta and was about to respond when he heard Kathy call out to him. She was in tears.

  “He’s asking for you, Dad.”

  He rushed over only to see how pale his grandson was. Christopher opened his eyes. “Grandpa?”

  “I’m right here.”

  “Grandpa, I…I don’t want to die like OJ.”

  “We’re here in DanSheba so don’t you worry. Just be tough. That’s important.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a Hitchcock. You’re…”

  “No, I mean why me?”

  Before Hitch could respond, the barge bumped against the wharf and a number of DanShebans rushed aboard to help dock it. At the same time, they carried Christopher away on his gurney down to the wharf. Kathy froze as she watched him go. She stepped closer to her father and whispered in his ear. “He’s going to die in this jungle. I know it.”

  Before Hitch could even react, she was gone, following after her son. He stared after them for several moments, then at all the villagers crowded around the wharf. His eyes drifted to the highly polished mountain up the hill, the river that disappeared upstream and downstream, and the impenetrable jungle across the river. Jesus, he thought. She’s right.

  ****

  Rousseau went from the East Bombay Wharf to the Jewish School of Learning. She naively thought she could waltz right onto the grounds and cut Hitchcock’s throat. The gate was chained shut and VAMA had it surrounded. When she attempted to climb the wall with the help of an old man’s stool, one of the guards came running and grabbed her by the ankle. The stool toppled over, and she fell to the ground. Her instincts took over as one leg, then the other slammed into the guard’s groin. By then, several other guards were on top of her.

  “Get off my ass, you fuckers,” Rousseau hollered. “Do you know who in the fuck I am?” She jumped up, pissed as hell, and showed them her credentials.

  “Orders from above. No one comes or goes, ma’am,” one of the guards insisted.

  Upon returning to the East Bombay Wharf, still pissed at being treated like a private, she received a call from Rosewall. He instructed her to return to her hotel. McGivney was insisting on a conference call amongst the three of them. Getting to the hotel was as difficult as getting to the wharf in the first place, in fact more so. More cars, more people, more protesters. Something big was happening.

  Shortly after reaching her room, Rousseau had both McGivney and Rosewall on her scud in split screen mode. Rosewall instructed her to set up the Blue Cube. She hesitated until the Minister assured her he knew all about it. In fact, he had a similar one operating in his office at that very moment.

  Before long, she stood beyond her own huge HS-Screen. After some instruction from McGivney, she saw a protolyte view of India with a cross-hair pulsating over the jungle.

  “Is that what I think it is?” she asked, astonished, baffled in fact. She heard McGivney hoot with gloating happiness.

  “I told you both to have faith.”

  “I’ve had enough faith to last a lifetime,” the general responded. “Now that I know it’s real, I plan to blow that shitty village to bits.”

  “Just a bit longer, Rosewall. It would be better if we had the entire UN fleet on our side. In the meantime, I want you there to lead the charge.”

  ****

  By the time Hitch climbed down from the barge, Christopher and Kathy had disappeared. He hurried up the hill to the village square and past the tall flagless pole toward what clearly had to be the hospital, a one-story red brick building that seemed simple enough. He wasn’t sure what Meta had been bragging about, until he arrived. Equipment everywhere, labs, offices, patient rooms seemingly placed everywhere at random. Research scientists and doctors, all DanShebans, filled those rooms. Several huddled with Elana and Barnaby when Hitch finally found them at the end of a narrow hall.

  Meta stood by herself talking on her scud.

  Hitch looked around for Kathy and wondered where Christopher had been taken. He started toward the huddled group when he heard Meta call out.

  “Oliver, wait.”

  Hitch stopped and approached her as she clicked off.

  “That was Yennie. The president says VAMA has our location. They’re coming, the entire UN fleet, unless she can stop them.”

  “What? We searched Julian. He had no tracker.”

  Meta glanced over at Elana.

  “Oh, Christ. The bastard planted a… Jesus, am I a dumb shit.” Hitch wheeled around in Elana’s direction.

  Meta grabbed his arm. “Leave it. She doesn’t have to know. We always knew the risk was there. Now, we must work that much faster.”

  “What else did your man Yennie say?”

  “They hear the UN will invade DanSheba to vaccinate the population. But the president fears the Cūtocracy won’t settle for that, and…”

  “And…”

  “And we have to prove scientifically the Click is a fraud before the president will expose the Smotecal Decretum and be able to convince the UN to turn back. Only independently validated proof will stop them.”

  Is that all, Hitch thought? No it was not all. They also had to make an antidote or Christopher would…

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The entire village, men, women, and children, dug ditches and built barricades under Hitch’s direction. He was in his element and actually enjoying it, temporarily oblivious to the fact that Christopher was deteriorating rapidly at that moment. He would learn soon enough. In the meantime, he and the others watched an Indian helicopter and two from Israel land within the shadows of the mountain. According to Meta, the White House had leaned heavily on India’s prime minister. As for as the Israeli helicopters were concerned, apparently no leaning was necessary. Many DanShebans secretly lived in Israel, as they did in most other areas of the world, but in Israel many of them occupied high positions in government and in the military.

  While Hitch watched the Indian and Israeli troops unload weapons, he continued to dig trenches alongside the villagers. As he explained where to dig next, his scud rang. It was Barnaby. He had just left Christopher and Kathy and thought Oliver should get to the hospital right away.

  With his shovel gripped in one hand, Hitch raced up the hill toward the square, trying to keep up with his beating heart. He passed dozens of DanShebans lined up in front of the hospital waiting to donate blood. As soon as he entered, Barnaby grabbed hold of his arm and led him into a large futuristic scientific lab where he and Elana were working with vials of blood and fancy equipment.

  “Oliver, before you see them, you should know that Christopher is failing fast. The Clicks are increasing in both intensity and speed and Kathy’s state of mind is hyperventilating at the same pace. You need to calm her down.”

  “Calm her down?” Hitch dropped the shovel. He was having trouble processing the words.

  “And tell her we are still hopeful,” Elana added. “No, tell her we will get him the antidote.”

  Hitch merely nodded then practically flew down the hall. Christopher was in the room on the right, and Kathy was standing vigil outside the opened door, biting her nails with chattering teeth. As he rushed over to her, she quickly shut the d
oor behind her.

  “No, I won’t let you see him. We wouldn’t be in this…this place if it weren’t for… Damn it, Dad.” She clutched on to him and bawled. “He’s going to die just like OJ. He’s going to…”

  Hitch held her tight and whispered in her ear. “No, he’s not. As God is my…”

  She broke away and stepped back with pain oozing from her eyes. “You don’t believe in God. How dare you.” She left him standing there as she marched back into her son’s room and slammed the door behind her.

  For a moment he froze, then followed her in. The oxygen, the IV tubes, the monitors hit him even harder than the verbal slap across the face he had just received.

  ****

  Yennie Tawahada sat in his office waiting to talk to Dillon Burber about scheduling a meeting between the Ecclesian ambassador to the United States and President Wainwright. The president planned to show the ambassador the Smotecal Decretum before going public in hopes of thwarting an all-out invasion of DanSheba, but first she needed to know as a matter of fact that the Click was a fraud.

  About the time he looked up at the clock wondering where Dillon was, he received a text message on his scud. Dillon was going to be late. The television had been on but muted all the time Yennie waited for his boss. What he observed was one pro-Cūtocracy march after another in Rome, Beijing, London, and right there in Washington, DC. He paid little attention to the orchestrated show of support until UN Secretary General Heinrich Flum of Germany filled the entire screen. Yennie knew him as a devout Ecclesian who managed somehow to stay loyal to both the Church and the Cūtocracy.

  Yennie unmuted the TV and listened to the Secretary General blab about how the disillusioned left was attempting to destroy their beloved institutions using all types of baseless allegations. The member nations were united, he insisted, and ready to march into DanSheba and inoculate the heathens. He went on to describe what he claimed was a real-time buildup in troops on the east coast of Mumbai and then displayed camera shots from there. It surely looked to Yennie like a major invasion was eminent.