They would look for the leak, and someone would pay. Paul was relieved that Ranold had never told him which specific groups were in the crosshairs, but he still worried the breach might easily be traced to him.
He had wanted to remain a mole in the agency until he chose to leave.
Something like this would make his decision for him. He would have to be gone before they caught on.
* * *
Allendo was resplendent in his usual black on black, gold-mirrored shades in place. Tiny didn’t seem to sweat, while Paul felt as if he were swimming. The governor’s entourage arrived at ten to six, when Ranold also made his appearance for pictures and handshakes. He proudly introduced Jae to all the dignitaries. The governor’s wife appeared relieved to see Jae and insisted on staying at her side and sitting next to the Stepolas at dinner.
Bia Balaam arrived preening in another silver gown—this one satin and skintight, clinging awkwardly to her angular body—with matching stiletto heels. Jae nudged Paul. “You’d think she overheard Tiny’s ideas for Juliet Peters. I can’t believe that woman is NPO.”
Balaam snubbed Paul and Jae, apparently disgusted by Paul’s connection to Sapiens Fisheries. You don’t know the half of it. Paul was gratified that Jae had evidently taken an instant dislike to the woman.
Giddiness was in the air, as if everyone was in on a delicious secret.
Ranold laughed quietly with Balaam, the military men, the governor, and Tiny and his friends.
Jae whispered, “There’s sure a lot of laughter for what should be a sober day. You’d think they were planning a surprise party.”
“Peculiar, considering people might die,” Paul said.
The governor’s wife agreed. “I know we’re targeting terrorists, but I find it hard to approve of jocularity at a time like this.”
Suddenly everyone’s attention shifted to the French doors leading from the house, where Juliet Peters shyly entered with none of the apparent ego one might expect. She was a curvaceous blonde in a white strapless gown, her trademark platinum mane reaching to her impossibly tiny waist.
“Juliet, dearest,” Tiny said, “at last. Now let’s all be seated for dinner.”
Offering Juliet his arm, Tiny escorted her to a place at the table between his own and Bia Balaam’s.
Paul and Jae were at the far end of the table, nearest the pool. Tiny’s
“party favors” continued to cavort in the water during dinner, and Paul envied them, longing to plunge in and cool off. The servers kept the wine flowing, but Paul concentrated on his tall glass of ice water.
What if there were more targets than Straight’s people had been able to reach? What if he had to go along and see his brothers and sisters killed?
He fought to hold fast to his faith. He had to believe God would heed an entire nation’s prayers and make Himself known.
* * *
“So,” Juliet Peters said, as the waiters came around with dessert, “have we all been sufficiently warned of the judgment of God?”
She smiled and sipped water from her glass.
The others laughed.
“Yes,” Ranold said, sounding on the verge of a guffaw, “better stock up on water!”
“Indeed,” Allendo said. “I bought extra-long straws so we can drink out of the pool if necessary.”
Paul could hear the rush of the fountain from the front of the house, which showed high above the roof, and the splashing of the young women in the pool. Spare us, he prayed.
Bia Balaam locked eyes with Paul, but he tore his gaze away, fearing she could read his thoughts. As if sensing his anxiety, Jae grabbed Paul’s hand under the table.
Juliet Peters coughed. Someone cried out, and Paul looked up just in time to see one of the women at the pool plunge down a slide and slam into the dry bottom with a sickening thud. Her friends screamed.
The fountain had ceased.
The water glasses on the table were not only empty but also dry. Even the sweat on the glass serving pitchers was gone.
Tiny Allendo jumped up so quickly his chair pitched backward. He stared at the pool, then whirled and looked at the fountain.
Paul studied the table. Even the liquid in the food had evaporated. The fruit tart had shriveled. The sorbet was colored powder. The wineglasses held a gooey residue.
Tiny’s voice sounded weak and timid. “Bottled water!” he croaked.
Waiters ran into the house, then came out, looking stricken. “The bottles are unopened, sir, but empty.”
Paul looked at the grass on the beautiful sprawling lawn under the lights. It was withering. By tomorrow it would be brown.
Balaam was on her feet, tottering out to her vehicle in her heels.
Ranold stood, fingers fluttering, lips trembling. Tiny called out to his people, “Get to the store! Bring back all the water you can!”
But Paul knew what they would find. More empty bottles. God had more than answered the prayers of the faithful. He had done more than shut off the water supply to Los Angeles.
The mighty Lord and Creator of the universe had withdrawn every drop of water in the wicked city. The word would spread throughout the land, and underground believers would rise up with confidence and strength, boldly proclaiming the message of faith. The powers that be would stop killing the people of God, or they would all wither like the grass and die.
* * *
The miracle would be known around the world within minutes. To those aboveground, it marked the beginning of what would become known as the Christian Guerilla War. To those underground, this was clearly the beginning of the end, the mark of what—and who—would be coming.
Soon.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Underground Zealot 01 - Soon Page 29