She had visited a similar group near Stone Canyon Reservoir off and on, but this was the first time she’d been asked to aid in what might be a terrorist act. She called a few friends from her own group to accompany her. One happened to be our informant.
“Our plant was heading out for a business meeting. Grace said not to worry and got someone else. Of course, our informant called us. But by the time we got someone to Grace’s office to follow her, she was gone.
“She lived alone, so we just waited at her home. Potential sabotage of the Los Angeles water supply was too big for an NPO underling to handle.
So Chief Balaam, who has a talent for this, went personally. I didn’t want to miss a thing, so I went along. And what do you think happened?”
Paul pursed his lips as if he couldn’t care less. “Pray tell.”
“I’ve always wondered why people who slit their wrists tend to do it in a full bathtub. Do they want to watch the water turn redder as their lives ebb away? That’s the end Grace chose. She even left a note describing her despair at being duped by religious extremists who offered friendship to a poor, desperately lonely spinster but in fact wanted to exploit her knowledge for their own illegal ends. She slit open both arms vertically from wrist to elbow—that’s when a suicide means business, you know. Of course, she needed some assistance. She squealed like a pig, by the way.
Just like a pig.”
Paul fought to stay impassive. Monsters!
“Here’s where you come in, Paul. Before opening her veins, Grace was repeatedly submerged to, shall we say, aid her memory. Balaam blindfolded her with a silk scarf—a nice touch. Each time Grace came up she gave us a little more about the cell near the port. She only had first names, but she had a good description of the ringleader, the one who had all the questions for her about the water. Seems he was from Chicago—an outside agitator. Get this. He called himself Paul and told her he had been blinded but that God had restored his sight. She even saw his navy blue sedan.”
Paul’s memory flashed to Stephen Lloyd hugging him and gasping,
“Man, that was the first time my faith was tested. I almost didn’t make it.”
“Paul, do you deny being that man?”
“No,” Paul said. He stood with fists clenched, trying to keep from erupting.
“No, you’re not? Or no, you don’t deny it?”
“Hi, Daddy!” Jae said. She rushed to her father, flung an arm around his neck, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Jae! Honey, I—”
“You both seem so serious. What’s going on?”
“Just business. What are you doing here?”
“I missed my husband. I hope it’s all right with the host if—”
“I’m sure Tiny will be delighted. I’ll clear it with him in the morning.
But, Jae, this is a working investigation site. It’s not as if you can spend time with Paul—”
“I’ll stay out of his hair. And I’ll likely have to head back before he does anyway. But I just wanted to see him.”
“Well, that’s good. So you two are patching things up.”
“Totally patched.”
“Well, terrific. Now, Jae, if you will excuse us, we need to finish some business here, and Paul will be right along.”
“Good to see you, Daddy.”
“Yes, of course. Delighted.”
When Jae was gone, Ranold swore and started in again on Paul. “We can’t have our wives joining us on operations like this. Especially like this.
You weren’t here when I got back around ten, so I called the L.A. bureau chief at home—what’s her name? Johns?”
“Harriet.”
“Naturally, I told her to consider herself fired and that I’d make it official when I could reach the head of the agency in the morning. She insisted she had not authorized any undercover work for you, let alone a major sting we hadn’t approved. Of course, the locals resent us and would love to steal our thunder, but Johns persuaded me she wasn’t stupid enough to pull a stunt like that—especially with L.A.’s water supply at stake—and with my own son-in-law, no less. She said she had mentioned that you would make a good infiltrator, nothing more.”
Paul was dumbfounded.
“Paul, you have humiliated me—and even more, yourself—with your arrogance. What made you go off half-cocked like that on your own? Did you think you could compete with me? with Balaam? She’s twice the soldier you are because she follows orders—shows creativity, sure, but does what she is told. You’re the one who should be fired. There is no room in the agency—especially now—for loose cannons. How do you justify this?”
“I can’t, really.”
“What insults me is that I know you thought you could get away with it because I’m your father-in-law.”
“I have never, ever tried to trade on your position in the agency.”
“So you just thought you could make a big score all by yourself? You thought you had to go an extra hundred miles because you failed in San Francisco and Gulfland? I can understand that, Paul. But we all have missions that go belly-up. A real soldier accepts it and moves on. Or was it your bleeding heart? You disapproved of our tactics and thought you’d bring in these renegades in cuffs instead of coffins. Well, that’s not how it works with terrorists.” He shook his head. “You’re self-righteous and naive. It makes me sick—and it could have cost you more than just your job. You’d deserve to rot in jail if these maniacs had sabotaged the water and you had let them slip through our fingers.
“Fortunately, Grace said she told you there was no way they could do it without a miracle. She had no reason to lie by then.”
“Then why was she murdered?”
“You think she could have told us more? Anyway, reluctant as she was, she was part of them. And I told you, it was clearly a suicide.”
“With one arm slit from elbow to wrist she managed to slice the other too?”
“We left no tracks, Paul. Don’t worry. Some may wonder how she managed it, but no one will suspect us.”
“What about the cell at the port?”
“Took forever to find it, but we raided the place, of course. No one was there, but we found an ancient printing press, computers, lots of contraband books and tracts. Think about this, Paul: Had you been there with those people, trying to pull your big lone-wolf ruse on them when the raid went down, you might have been killed. At the very least, you’d have some explaining to do.
“We’ll watch who comes and goes there tomorrow. Then on Sunday it will be the first target of a major strike. Intelligence uncovered seven other large cells, and we’ll see if Grace’s friends have anything to add. Sunday is these people’s big meeting day, so we can likely catch all of them at once. Even if massive simultaneous strikes don’t knock out the underground, they will certainly cripple it.
“The question now, Paul, is what I should do with you.”
“Whatever you see fit.”
“It’s hard to assess the degree of harm you’ve actually done. Your meddling did put us onto a new target and give us insight into the kind of attacks the terrorists might plan. Only Balaam and I know what a fool you made of yourself. It would appear a conflict of interest if I were the one to discipline you. I won’t humiliate you further by letting Chief Balaam mete out your fate. Rather, I am going to report you to your superior, Chief Koontz, and place your punishment in his hands.”
Paul felt as if he could melt into a heap. “Seems fair,” he said.
“I’ll give you a chance to redeem yourself Sunday. You will stay at my side during the raids and, I hope, acquit yourself enough to mitigate the severity of my report to Koontz. Until then, you’re suspended. You may not use an agency car. Perhaps if Tiny is kind enough to help you with transportation, you can take Jae out for a little sight-seeing tomorrow.
“Now I’m going to bed, and I suggest you do the same.”
* * *
Sleep was the last thing Paul could imagine. He was horrified at what had happened
to Grace, frantic to warn the Fishers of Men to stay away from the port tomorrow, and desperate to alert the rest of the L.A. underground to avoid their usual meeting places Sunday. Further down the list—but terrifying, he had to admit—was the realization of how close he’d come to being caught. It could have happened so easily.
Paul felt unaccountably blessed that Ranold had been so wrong. It wasn’t like his father-in-law to jump to conclusions. If he’d had my father’s letter, he would have read the situation differently. Jae must have taken it.
What time had she called? Was it possible Ranold had her phone to try to pull him out of Sapiens before the raid—not to save Paul so much as to spare himself the embarrassment?
Ranold said he’d gotten home at ten, which might or might not be true.
Grace had left the port just before seven. If they had extracted the information from her by nine, Ranold could have set the raid in motion and then put Jae up to calling. He could have sent her to the airport. The rest of her story might even be true, but Ranold could have flown her in earlier in the day.
How long were we there talking about Barton and the manifesto? Then how long was I on the road?
With everything else going on, the timing was too much for Paul to work out right then. Warning the others was his priority.
Paul stepped outside. He might be under surveillance, but he had to call Straight. The fountain was gushing, as always, so Paul positioned himself as close to it as possible. He’d get soaked by the spray, but the burbling and splashing would cover the sound of his call. To avoid rousing more suspicion by going back indoors dripping wet, he slipped off his shirt and pants and tossed them to safety where they’d stay dry.
Like Paul, Straight was stunned at what had happened.
“The big problem is how to reach any of these people,” Paul said.
“They’ve got to be warned to stay away from Sapiens Fisheries tomorrow and told to get the word out to every other cell in Los Angeles. And Grace Dean’s friends from the Stone Canyon group are about to get snatched for interrogation if they haven’t been already.
“And here I am, totally out of commission—certainly being watched by Ranold and possibly by Jae.”
“She didn’t plant a bug on you, did she?”
“I didn’t even think of that with all this madness. Luckily—” Paul burst out laughing—“even if she did, I’m standing here in my shorts, sopping wet, with my head stuck in a fountain.”
“I wondered what that sound was,” Straight said.
36
Tiny Allendo oozed charm in the morning and acted as if Jae’s presence made his month. “Your timing is impeccable,” he said. “This evening at poolside I am hosting an elegant prestrike dinner, to which you are invited.
The governor of Sunterra and his wife and some major players in town will be here, along with Chief Balaam and your father. Oh, and Juliet Peters.”
“The movie star?”
“The same,” Tiny said. “I’m thinking of casting her as Chief Balaam in the movie. You know, beautiful blonde fights her way up the ranks of the NPO, finally gets her big break leading a crack strike force. I’m not sure about the love angle yet—maybe the handsome leader of the zealots, whom she takes prisoner. Maybe a jail-cell seduction . . . she comes in wearing a gold cat-suit and stiletto-heel boots to show she’s all woman doing a man’s job . . . but it’s a triangle. The real Mr. Right is the wise old agency chairman. He’s thirty-five years her senior, but he’s a tiger—a silver fox. Seasoned. Tough. Rich as King Midas.
“At the end the zealot turns out to be a brute. The silver fox saves the blonde, and she sees he’s so much stronger and better than the cute young muscle man. Or maybe it’s the other way around, and it’s really the old guy who’s evil. It all depends on which costars Juliet wants.”
Paul could barely hide his revulsion. “Thank you for your hospitality to Jae,” he said.
“Until this evening then,” Tiny said, bowing.
* * *
Tiny had offered Paul and Jae the use of his car and chauffeur for the day.
Ranold must have engineered it because Paul hadn’t asked, and he declined to tell Jae that the reason they were imposing on Tiny was that her father had suspended him. Paul had barely slept, anguishing over the fates of Fishers of Men, Grace Dean’s three friends from the Stone Canyon group, and the other groups targeted Sunday. Had Straight and the others been able to warn them? Somehow Paul had to connect with Straight that morning, but what would he do about Jae?
He had been genuinely happy, if confused, to see Jae, but he still hadn’t talked to her about his father’s letter, and she had volunteered nothing. He had no idea whether she had found the letter and, if she had, what she might make of it. On top of that was her call last night, which might well have been timed to yank him out of Sapiens one step ahead of the army.
Even without those suspicions, no way could Paul risk telling Jae he had flipped to the other side and was now working to rescue the very people her father was bent on exterminating. The news would shatter not just her image of him but also the bedrock values of her upbringing. With so many innocent lives at stake, he didn’t dare gamble on her understanding.
The day had broken hot, and by ten the temperature was already flirting with ninety degrees. Paul was soaking but not just from the heat.
Jae needed an evening gown for the party that night. Tiny’s chauffeur took them to the famous Rodeo Drive, now a ten-story mall of exclusive stores for those who enjoyed actual shopping more than on-line virtual try-ons.
“This is wild,” Jae said. “I never thought I’d actually see it in person.
But I doubt we can afford anything here.”
“Let’s splurge. How often do you get to have dinner with Juliet Peters?”
“A gold catsuit and stiletto-heel boots . . . that movie sounds beneath her. But, Paul, I know how much you hate shopping. . . .”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
“So why don’t you have the chauffeur take you somewhere? This is my one big chance at Rodeo Drive, and I don’t want to worry that you’re miserable.”
Paul was a hairsbreadth from taking her up on it, desperate to see what was going on at the port, when it struck him: This is a test. Maybe Jae was in cahoots with Ranold and maybe she wasn’t. But Ranold had arranged for the limo and driver right after stripping Paul of his agency car. If the man behind the wheel wasn’t an operative assigned to check on him, Paul would be shocked.
“You know, Jae, I’m pretty sick of driving around. I’ve been stuck in a car all week. It’ll feel good to be in an air-conditioned mall on a day like this. If I get bored, I’ll wander off on my own.”
* * *
The mall was an architectural marvel of curved copper beams and gold-tinted glass. Jae checked the registry of stores, ooh ing and ah ing over the famous names. “I’m going to start at the top and work my way down,” she said. “Think you can stand that?”
“Lead on.”
Over her shoulder Paul spotted a tenth-floor store that looked like an oasis: Cicero’s Games. They got off the jetvator and Jae headed for an interesting shop. Paul left her at the door and headed over to Cicero’s.
Inside, beyond the usual banks of life-size interactive games, was an entire section devoted to old-fashioned board games like Scrabble and chess. No clerks or customers around. Pretending to examine the merchandise, Paul called Straight.
Straight led off with good news. Someone in the salt mines knew Carl and Lois because of their letterpress-printed tracts and had been able to warn them away from Sapiens. They in turn had provided leads to many of the other Los Angeles groups. The bad news was that the three friends of Grace Dean from the Stone Canyon Reservoir group had yet to be found.
“It’s hopeless by now,” Paul said. “They may have already been tortured to death.”
“Nothing is hopeless,” Straight said. “Last I heard, God was still on His throne.”
Straight reported that underground factions in every state were fervently praying for God’s judgment on Los Angeles and the protection of its believers. “Your contacts are paying off,” Straight said. “From Abraham, Sarah, and Isaac in the Detroit underground to Arthur Demetrius in New York, the word is being spread. San Francisco and Washington are hopping, eager for God to avenge their martyrs. And get this: The media is starting to pick up on that Christian manifesto. The whole country is going to be watching L.A., Paul.”
Thank You, Lord.
Paul went to collect Jae, and they made their way down to the ninth and then the eighth floor, where Jae stopped off twice to see evening gowns with Paul gamely looking on. On the seventh floor, Paul homed in on an electronics store with state-of-the-art video players in the window.
All were tuned to a breaking-news network.
“Let’s check this a second,” he said.
The Christian manifesto was splashed across every screen. Police spokesmen claimed the warning was a hoax and urged citizens to ignore it.
But talk-show hosts took calls from all over, and the warning was all anyone wanted to discuss. The underground’s threat to cut off L.A.’s water had frightened many and also had become fodder for jokes, giving pundits no end of fun spinning and laughing at outrageous scenarios.
“What in the world . . . ?” Jae said.
By the time Paul and Jae reached the ground floor, the manifesto had become a nationwide phenomenon.
* * *
They arrived at the Allendo estate a few hours before dinner and strolled the grounds in the sweltering heat. Jae kept her distance from the fountain so it wouldn’t ruin her hair, but she stared at it from inside the fence that separated the pool from the rest of the grounds.
“Who are all the young women?” she said.
“Party favors,” Paul said.
“And did you—”
“No.”
“And Daddy?”
“Don’t ask.”
Paul found himself silently praying at every spare moment. Now that the warnings had reached the Sapiens group and were, ideally, rippling through the rest of the L.A. underground, he finally felt able to concentrate on his own situation. If the targets were empty when the army came storming in Sunday morning, he knew full well heads were going to roll.
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