Gather The Seekers

by Vince Milam

  “Not really.” He paused. “Popular today all over South Asia. 786. License plates, written on buses, you name it.”

  “And you’d hang your hat on this?” she asked. I don’t know, Zuhdi. Need more hard data before jumping on that train.

  “I’m Muslim, Nadine,” he said. “Trust me on this one.”

  “Not arguing.” He has to understand it’s evil—hellish evil—that’s actually driving this, she thought. They’re shoving it in our face. Jude in San Francisco. Luke in Virginia. Francois down here—which may explain his attraction to the dirty bomb event. The league of seekers. Challenged by demonic evil. That’s the core driver of this.

  “I try and keep my private life out of the workplace,” Zuhdi said. “But I’m going to share some personal information. Important information.”

  Nadine took a sip of coffee laced with honey and wished Francois was around so she could bum a smoke. Cole and Francois sat at their hotel, waiting. Or at least Cole waited. Francois bounced off the walls, frustrated over his inability to do something since their encounter at Baytown several days ago.

  “There’s a war going on,” Zuhdi said. “A war for the heart and soul of Islam. I love my religion. It’s a big part of my life. And those sons of hell are trying to desecrate it. Destroy it. Cutting off heads, burning people alive, sexual slavery, horrors beyond description. Screw them. They aren’t going to win this war. Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  Nadine waited for Zuhdi to continue. When he didn’t, she said, “I can understand why you’d be pissed with them. The ISIS crowd.”

  “Not pissed, Nadine. You and Nick have to understand something.” A pause, and when Zuhdi spoke again his voice was closer to the phone’s speaker—low, cold, and deadly. “I despise them. With a white-hot hatred. They are intent on destroying my religion. Intent on destroying the country I serve and love. Intent on killing everyone who doesn’t believe as they do. They are pure evil, and need to be wiped off the face of the earth. Period.”

  She let his statement settle and thought, Holy moly, Zuhdi, you’re one badass with that particular subject. And I don’t disagree. They are pure, unadulterated evil.

  Mule the Cat stood, stretched, dropped to the floor, and rubbed against her leg as he made his way to the kitchen. Nadine did a quick mental review of any exposed food items. Mule was on the prowl.

  “Enough of that,” Zuhdi continued. “But it’s important the two of you know where I stand. There is no gray area.”

  “Crystal clear, Zuhdi. I appreciate the candor, and I’m with you a hundred percent,” Nadine said. The conversational air elevated to a new dimension—clean, steadfast, and singular of purpose. They were on the same page with the same objectives. I really like him. Tough and no-nonsense.

  “Now I want to hear about this direct challenge,” Zuhdi said. “Nick informed me about his bishop and your priest, Nadine. Direct challenge to who?”

  She took another sip of coffee before answering Zuhdi’s question—time enough to contemplate the best response. The death of her friend, the daily slaughter across the country, and a responsibility to help stop the killings as quickly as possible drove her statements.

  “There’s supernatural evil among us, Zuhdi. Let’s start there. I’ve seen it. More than once. Satanic influence, live and in person. You mentioned war. This is war as old as humankind.”

  “Alright,” Zuhdi said. “I’m with you so far.”

  His voice lacked the slightest incredulity or disbelief as he waited for her to elaborate. “The priest—Francois—has a radar. An internal radar able to fixate on walking evil. Evil creatures. Evil among us.”

  “Alright.” Again, patience and affirmation from Zuhdi.

  This guy is absorbing, actively listening. Zero kickback, which is beyond unusual given past responses when I’ve gone through this. Zuhdi Kouri’s attitude—his acceptance—prompted her to open the floodgates.

  “We thought we were alone,” she said.

  “You and the priest,” Zuhdi said.

  “And Cole.”

  “Cole?” Zuhdi asked.

  “Sheriff of Aransas County. Remember when I mentioned Rockport? Same-same.”

  “Alright. Nick failed to mention this sheriff.”

  She imagined Nick squirming on the other end of the call. The young hottie’s boss would be giving him the stink eye right about now. Sorry, Nick. This is too big and too bad.

  “Well, we work as a team. And thought we were the only ones. But Francois had a feeling—that weird radar of his, I suppose. A feeling we had to go to Boise. To meet others. Others like us.”

  “Boise?”

  “Yes. And we did meet others. Nick, for instance, and his Bishop Sikes. Luke Sikes.”

  “Others?” Zuhdi asked.

  Good grief, Nick. You didn’t tell him the whole thing. Sorry, hot stuff, but I’m not holding back. “Jude Gill. Pastor. San Francisco. And her partner—or maybe muscle is a better descriptive—Jean Murphy, ex-cop. Oakland.”

  “Quite the gathering,” Zuhdi said. “Any others you might want to include that Nick failed to tell me?”

  “Nope. That’s it.”

  “Hold on a second, Nadine,” Zuhdi said.

  She heard a mute button click. Without doubt, Nick was now getting his ass chewed—big time. Thirty seconds later, Zuhdi came back on.

  “I appreciate you filling me in, Nadine,” Zuhdi said. “Agent Capellas is now acutely aware of the importance of sharing information. Isn’t that right, Agent Capellas?”

  This last comment sounded more statement than question. Well, I doubt it’s his first ass-chewing. Sure won’t be his last.

  “Absolutely, sir,” Nick said. “And I apologize to you, Nadine, for not prepping my boss sufficiently prior to this call.”

  “No worries,” Nadine said. “As for the others, Zuhdi, both Luke Sikes and Jude Gill have some variant of Francois’s radar. Less tuned, but there. And we came together. Their sense, or radar, did that. But I think it triggered something. I think, while it may not have caused or created this killing across the country, it sure is tied to it. Hence the anchor points, geographically. That’s the direct challenge. It’s in our face. A ‘screw you’ right back at us.”

  “For the record, sir, I don’t subscribe to that,” Nick said.

  “This would be a good time for silence, Agent Capellas,” Zuhdi said. “And you might want to consider your personal challenges regarding when to speak and when not to.”

  “Yessir.”

  Poor kid, she thought. But he’ll recover. It’s time to shake, rattle, and roll. Stop this murderous madness.

  “Tell me again, Nadine. Geographic anchor points.”

  “Jude and Jean. Bay Area.”

  “Radius?”

  “Don’t know. Couple of hundred miles. Spread out.”

  “You and the priest?”

  “And Cole. Rockport. Houston. Same thing. Couple of hundred miles.”

  “And Virginia,” Zuhdi stated.

  “Yeah. Luke. Luke and Nick.”

  Zuhdi remained silent, then asked the big one. “Each area, each anchor point, driven and directed by evil. Supernatural evil.”

  “Yes.”

  She let that sit for moment, then asked, “So, Zuhdi, just how crazy does this sound to you?”

  He sighed. “Not crazy at all. Remember, I’m Muslim.”

  “Okay.”

  “As in the Christian world, about half of us believe in supernatural evil and half don’t. I’m a believer. Seen too much not to.”

  “Cool. So I don’t have to tiptoe around this moving forward.”

  “No,” Zuhdi said. “And let’s damn sure move forward. We’ve got to find these killers. I’d put money on there being twenty-one of them. One a day for each. Personal jihad for the caliphate. We’ve been picking up claims, propaganda, from ISIS websites and social media. Cryptic claims in general terms. But alluding to something like this.”

  Common ground and
mission definition accomplished, it was time to see if Zuhdi played turf games, as did so many of her clients.

  “Just so you know, I’ve alerted the FBI already. About my findings.” She gave Zuhdi the name and contact information of the FBI resource she’d spilled the beans to.

  “We’ll work together,” Zuhdi said without a trace of irritation. “There’s no time for departmental pissing matches. We have to pull out all the stops and take out these killers. These jihadists.”

  They discussed a communication strategy and settled on four times a day conference calls with Nadine, DHS, and the FBI. No stone would be left unturned. Zuhdi would also push this up the ladder so the administration was aware.

  “Let’s stop these bastards,” Zuhdi said. “Now. Before this grows. Stop them and wipe them off the face of the earth.”

  Chapter 26

  How can this be, Lord? Francois prayed as he paced the lobby of the hotel. How can this be? I cannot move, attack, do battle.

  “You’re going to wear out the carpet, amigo,” Cole said as he finished a call with Nadine and sat in a lobby chair with his laptop.

  The sheriff appeared sanguine, calm and collected. But Francois knew, deep inside, his friend harbored expectations.

  Cole and Nadine had expressed subtle assumptions with regard to Francois’s ability to flip a switch and pursue the supernatural forces driving the murderous rampage. And, one must admit, I hold those same expectations.

  “The third day,” Francois said and locked eyes with his friend. “And we know what this means.”

  Cole folded his laptop shut, stood, took him by the arm, and ushered him toward the lobby door. “Let’s not talk where we might be overheard,” Cole said. “Outside. You can smoke.”

  The imperative of public silence certainly rang true. The Americans were a most peculiar people. Panic would ensue should word get out, to be sure. But also perhaps a reaction in direct opposition to the killers. That, too, held great danger.

  The person who fired his deer rifle during the recent Rockport event—a rifle in his possession while fishing!—exhibited this American proclivity. One could never imagine such an act of armed lunacy in Europe! Lunacy and yet a reality one must address. If word of the murderous conspiracy should be revealed, one shuddered to think of the carnage of an American overreaction. One would have to dodge bullets in pursuit of decent coffee!

  Francois fired a Gauloises immediately upon exiting the hotel. “Have you any idea, mon ami, how frustrating this is? People shall be killed on this day. Why? One could write a book, quite large, on the question of God allowing such a thing to happen.”

  “Well, I’m not putting any pressure on you, Francois,” Cole said. “But our best bet is you. You and Nadine.”

  True. True and yet a burden, a pressure, he had never experienced. “I am of course aware of this and need not be reminded.”

  “Just sayin’,” Cole said.

  “Yes. And you have said so repeatedly. Of this, too, I am aware.”

  “Come on. Let’s walk. Houston’s spring lasts about ten days. Let’s enjoy it.”

  And so they walked. The suburban hotel, close to Nadine’s place, offered patches of pine and oak trees in small undeveloped areas. They stopped under a massive live oak, its lower limbs—hundreds of years old—stretched thick and horizontal to the ground. Traffic was light, and a bird sang above them.

  “And what type of bird is this?” Francois asked.

  “Mockingbird. It’ll imitate the sounds of other birds.”

  “Mocking. How apropos. I should be mocked. Another has died! Murdered! While we stand here.”

  Life had purpose. His path had been defined, laid out—to confront true evil among us. Such had been the case in Wales, Syria, Africa, and Mexico. As his friend the sheriff well knew. This situation differed. The demons refused to show themselves. Mocking? Perhaps the Enemy mocked his ability and belief. And yet, they would show. At some point, they would show.

  “I’m gonna conference call Jude and Luke. You need to talk with them,” Cole said and produced his phone. They had talked with their teammates last night, after Nadine’s findings.

  “Oui. Oui, perhaps they will have insights. For I stand before you a failure.” He lit another cigarette. The bird continued to warble overhead as a light breeze rustled the live oak’s leaves.

  “Lighten up, Francois. We don’t need you beating yourself up.” Cole dialed their compatriots on a conference call, adding, “We’re a team, pard. All of us. Remember that.” He hit the speaker button on the cell phone and held it toward Francois.

  The hello from Jude and Luke prompted Francois to speak. “I stand bereft, mes amis. Bereft and wounded, unable to move. To confront the Enemy.”

  “Hi, Francois,” Jude said. “I cannot tell you how frustrating this is. Jean and I are driving around. Driving around! At random! No head alarms. No focus. Nothing!”

  “Oui. A feeling I must say I share.”

  “Me, too,” Luke said. “Like an old fool. Meandering highways. Seeking. Seeking something.”

  Vexation crackled over the long-distance airwaves.

  “Is everyone aware innocent people are dying as we speak? Does that hit anyone besides me?” Jude asked.

  “Of course it does, Jude,” Luke replied. “I am attempting to control myself and not rip this steering wheel apart thinking about it.”

  “Cole, you still there?” Jean Murphy asked over Jude’s speaker.

  “Yep.”

  “What’s the news from the law enforcement side of things?” she asked.

  “Nadine has kicked the anthill. DHS, FBI, Lord knows who else,” Cole answered.

  “They buying it?” Jean asked.

  “It’s Nadine May. They’ll buy it,” Cole said.

  “Well, I wish they’d hurry up and pinpoint someone. I’m ready to shoot one of these bastards,” Jean said.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Bon, bon. Enough of this shooting of le bâtards,” Francois said. “It is the Satanic force behind such things we must focus on.”

  Again, exasperation filled the phone silence. Two cyclists pedaled by, chatting as they rode. One of them displayed a Houston Rockets emblem on her sweatshirt.

  “Speaking of focus,” Cole said as he stepped closer to Francois, the cell phone between them. “Besides kicking the anthill, Nadine’s found a pattern.”

  Why would you not tell me this first? Share with the others, certainement, yet should I not be informed first?

  “Seven killed each day in the northwest, eight down in this neck of the woods, and six in the northeast. Seven, eight, six. Same thing every day,” Cole said.

  “Ah!” Francois said. “I am aware of such a number.”

  “What’s it mean, Francois?” Jude asked.

  “The Abbasid period,” Francois replied, holding aloft a finger as a professor before his class. “The counting of numbers with regard—”

  “Yeah, but that ain’t the point,” Cole interrupted. “Don’t get all spun off in that direction. Suffice it to say it’s likely jihad against America.”

  Such simplistic distillation! A challenge, large and ever-present, to understand this American tendency of bluntness. They exhibited no subtlety, no peripheral nuance. Give me strength, Lord, to deal with such a people.

  “Jihad?” Jean asked. “A tie to ISIS?”

  “She’s not sure. But probably,” Cole said.

  “If that’s the case, let’s start by nuking them out of existence,” Jean said.

  There! Once again! Shoot, bomb, and, God forbid, blow up with a nuclear device. No nuance. None! He blew smoke toward the still-singing mockingbird overhead.

  “Back to Nadine,” Cole said. “She sees this as a direct challenge to you three spiritual warriors. Murders clustered around y’all’s home bases. In Francois’s situation, that’d be Rockport. Or Houston, or this general part of the States.”

  Yes! A direct challenge to the three of them in the context of
this conspiracy. Of course!

  “I knew it,” Luke said. “Sensed it. A reaction to us gathering!”

  “Oui! Yet why has it ceased? This, the third day since our encounters, and they hide. They fear the power of God, mes amis!”

  A lively discussion ensued among Francois, Jude, and Luke. They probed the possibilities, pursued a variety of explanations. In the course of doing so, Francois observed his friend the sheriff, lost in thought, lean back to watch a squirrel dash along one of the lower limbs of the live oak.

  “Great God Almighty has provided me one thing,” Luke said. “A certainty. A conviction.” He paused.

  Well done, my large and powerful friend, Francois thought. He appreciated a good dramatic pause.

  “And I can testify,” Luke continued. “Testify we are destined to confront the Enemy in a real and physical way.”

  “Oui. This is most certainly a part of my sense. My feeling.”

  “Yes,” Jude added. “Soon. Maybe not today. Or tomorrow. But soon. Soon, one of them—or three of them—is going to enter our realm. And when it happens, we’ve got to move fast. Move fast and kick some ass.”

  “The Lord takes vengeance on his adversaries and keeps wrath for his enemies,” Luke said.

  “His way is in whirlwind and storm,” Jude added.

  “And yet, ‘His understanding is unsearchable,’” Francois said.

  “And how small a whisper do we hear of Him,” Luke said.

  “Oui, oui, most true,” Francois said, adding, “And you, mon ami, may stop rolling your eyes as we converse.” He directed the last statement at Cole. His friend’s body language expressed impatience, if not irritation. He clearly failed to understand the importance of such discussions.

  “Y’all may have to wait,” Cole said.

  Several joggers ran past, intent and focused. Each wore earbuds attached to portable music devices. Cole watched them as he formulated a continuation of his statement.

  “I tossed the idea to Nadine this morning,” Cole continued. “She reckons I may be right.”

  “I’m not following you, brother Cole,” Luke said. “Wait? Lay that out for me, please.”