The Reluctant Prophet_A Love Story

by Karl Morgan

  A light bulb flashed in the secretary of defense's head as he realized that Andy wanted time too. "I agree with the vice president," Albright said. "We want Ben to heal as quickly as possible. Neither Andy nor I are doctors, so we will leave the decisions to you."

  Hampton considered the two officials in front of him. As one of the top surgeons in the country, he was well accustomed to dealing with the idiosyncrasies of the rich and famous. "Well, it is very true that every case like this is different. Some patients need to stay in comas for months before it is safe to revive them, but at some point all patients need to take an active role in their recovery. Please be assured that no one medical professional is going to make decisions in a vacuum. I have a teleconference in three days with a team of doctors to review the president's case. Perhaps after that, we can come to a decision."

  "That seems a wise choice," Lake replied. "What is your personal opinion at this time?"

  "Well, Mr. Vice President, if we make a decision in three days and begin the protocol to end the coma immediately, it will still be a week or so before the president is up and about."

  "A week or two?" Albright probed.

  Hampton frowned. "That is hard to say, sir. A week, maybe ten days is a better estimate. And remember that is only if the team agrees it is time."

  "We appreciate your time, Doctor Hampton," Lake said, extending his hand. Hampton shook their hands and left the room. The two men walked over to the bedside and looked down on the president. "It would seem we are of one mind, Frank."

  "I'm not sure what you mean, Mr. Vice President."

  Lake frowned at the other man. "Don't play coy with me, Frank. I've known you too long for that. We need more time before Ben resumes his duties, and there is the situation with Tony's report to deal with. Shit, both of us ignored it, and look where we are now."

  "You think that Thompson fellow really sees the future?"

  "That's why I want to meet him, Frank," Andy replied. "Personally, I think fortune-telling is just nonsense, but then I wonder what would happen if the NTSB report shows no signs of foul play?"

  "You and I can deal with Tony," Frank said. "Another case of plausible deniability."

  "But that only works if Thompson isn't around to tell his side of the story."

  "Is that a problem, Andy?"

  The vice president looked at his old friend and wondered about his loyalty and motivation. "No, that is not a problem, unless Ben decides to wake up before we deal with Thompson. That's part of the reason we need more time."

  "What's the other part?"

  "I can't believe you asked me that, Frank!" the vice president replied. "I thought you were smarter than that when I recommended you for DOD. First, the odds Thompson is a true clairvoyant are like one in infinity, so we have to focus on real options. Regardless of the condition of the jet, someone tried to take it down and Thompson is connected to them. Who do you think would do that?"

  "Al Qaeda, Russia, China, North Korea for starters," Frank answered.

  "We have the cell phones and computers from the Thompson family and are looking for linkages to any of them or another group we don't know about yet. The NSA is pulling together their phone records and Internet traffic to look for something there too. Tomorrow morning, Thompson will be in the DIA secure site a few blocks from here, where we will confront him with any evidence we have found. If we find any direct connections, or if Thompson cracks, we need to launch a preemptive strike immediately to punish the perpetrators for this."

  "And it all needs to happen before Ben wakes up," Frank noted.

  Lake looked down at the president and scowled. "Yes, that's right. Ben is a great American, but too much of a dove when it comes to our enemies. He always wants to negotiate everything. If we find that China is responsible, he'd want to ask the UN for sanctions or suggest a summit meeting or some other meaningless contrition. If they did this to Ben, we will act."

  "And what if Thompson just guessed about the plane?"

  "Frank, we both know he has to die either way. No loose ends, right?" Lake said.

  "Shit, do you think Ben can hear what we're saying?" Frank asked, stunned that the thought just occurred to him.

  "He's in a freaking coma, Frank! Don't be ridiculous. Let's get back to the White House." The two men walked out and past the three Secret Service agents, one of whom walked into the president's room to resume his post.

  Chapter 16

  The vice president was despondent and could feel the icy grip of terror rising up in his stomach. He spent the entire morning in a conference room receiving updates from the NTSB, NSA, CIA, and FBI. The secretary of defense sat to his left with his head in his hands. He had not made eye contact with anyone else in the room for at least an hour. Andy thought he could see the beginning of a smirk on CIA Director Anthony Marshall's face. "God, I hate that son of a bitch," he thought. The door opened and the attorney general and secretary of state barged in. "What's the meaning of this, Cindy?" Lake asked. "Your presence was not requested for this briefing."

  "You see what I mean, Cathy," Cindy said to Secretary of State Catherine Sylvester. "Our presence is not required."

  "We're not idiots, Andy," Cathy began. "We know you are considering taking military or covert actions against foreign entities. You need my input for that."

  "You will be informed before any decisions are made," Andy lied.

  "Also, you have taken a detainee from my site in Alaska and given custody to the DIA," Cindy argued. "No one asked my opinion on that matter."

  Frank Albright looked up and replied, "The vice president was within his rights to reassign this man to us." Everyone noticed how red Frank's eyes were and the strain on his face.

  Tony stood up and said, "If I may speak, we were just about to present the conclusions to our meeting. If State and Justice want to listen, I have no problem with that."

  The vice president scowled at the CIA director and then his face softened to a generous smile. "Please join us, ladies. Go ahead, Tony. We might as well get this over."

  The representative from the NTSB stood and cleared his throat. "To be clear, our investigation is still ongoing; however, at this time we have found no evidence of deliberate tampering to the beams and bolts that failed, leading to the crash of Air Force One. There were signs of fatigue throughout the fuselage, and we have sent a request to the Air Force and Secret Service for maintenance and inspection records."

  "But that is only a preliminary report, correct?" Andy asked.

  "Yes, Mr. Vice President," the man replied. He sat and the representative of the NSA stood.

  "I concur with my colleague that our report is preliminary as well," she said. "Our review included records from all four members of the Thompson family, and the scope included telephone records, Internet activity, e-mails, and text messages. There were only a couple of anomalies discovered to date. The elder Thompson, Abraham, has recently been searching for information on North Korea and China. The searches seem to be generic and focused on sites like Wikipedia and even the CIA World Factbook. All e-mail traffic was examined and no encoded or otherwise questionable information has been found."

  The FBI representative raised his hand and then stood up. "If I may, the Bureau has some information in that regard."

  "Go ahead, Agent Morgan," Andy said.

  "Thank you, sir. Our review of the computer hard drives of the Thompson family revealed an outline and the first couple chapters of a novel being written by Abraham Thompson. It seems to be an anti-war, pro-diplomacy story which begins with discussions of conditions in China and North Korea," the agent replied.

  "Thank you. Anything else from the NSA?" Andy asked.

  The FBI agent sat and the woman said, "Yes, Mr. Vice President. Each member of the Thompson family had a mobile phone. According to reports from their service provider, Ezekiel had a new phone which replaced one we confiscated when the FBI arrested him the first time. It seems odd that there was a period of several weeks when
he did not have a mobile phone at all. During that period, the records from the carrier report that both Abraham and Sarah received texts and calls from the number of the disconnected phone."

  "Perhaps he got a new phone from a different supplier," Cindy speculated.

  "That is possible, but doubtful," the NSA woman said. "No service provider shows that number being active, until the current device was activated."

  "Could he have had a satellite phone from a foreign country?" Frank asked. "Or perhaps a military tactical phone?"

  "Without the actual device, it is impossible to tell. The current device is a standard Apple iPhone," the woman reported. "That's all we have, ladies and gentlemen." She sat down.

  "Thank you," Andy said. "I look forward to your final reports in the coming days. Anything else from you, Agent Morgan?"

  The FBI agent stood and thought for a moment and then said, "Just to be clear, I am a lawman and have been for my whole career. Notwithstanding the preliminary reports, I have to tell you alarms are blasting away inside my head."

  "It would seem we are of an accord, Agent Morgan," the vice president said. "Please continue."

  "Thank you, sir. Let us ignore the rumors about Ezekiel Thompson. Some people say he can see the future but there is no factual evidence of that. We can sit here and believe that man is a prophet and fall on our knees in front of him, but that would be a fool’s errand. First, Thompson IDs an undercover FBI agent in a coffee shop. Then, we take custody of him in San Diego, and it turns out those agents were selling him to the North Koreans. But before they could sell, a Mexican drug lord rescues him. His henchmen were careful only to kill the four agents involved. Next, the North Koreans enlist a second cartel to get Thompson, and there's this giant gunfight where one drug lord and dozens of men are killed along with the two Koreans. Somehow, Thompson escapes Mexico and ends up in Hawaii where we capture him again. Then he predicts the Air Force One crash. In my professional opinion, all of that cannot be coincidental. Ezekiel Thompson is neck-deep in something, and the last thing we can afford to do is let him go."

  "I don't think any of us are saying Thompson is a prophet or totally innocent," Cindy replied. "That's why we took him into custody. We need to learn where he gets his information. But the law is the law. Unless we have evidence to support holding him, we will have to let him go sometime."

  "What do you want me to do, Cindy?" Andy asked.

  "You can keep Thompson at the DIA site, but I want the FBI to be in charge of him. He is a US citizen and we need to give him his rights and access to counsel," she replied.

  "I need at least three days of access to Thompson before he gets a lawyer," the vice president said. "During those days, the CIA will be responsible for his custody. That will give us time to interview him and to get updated reports from everyone else. After three days, if we don't have any new evidence, I'll give him to you, Cindy. Then you can decide whether to hold him, charge him, or let him go. That's it, everyone, thank you." The vice president stood and walked out of the room.

  "Madam Attorney General, may I speak?" Agent Morgan asked.

  "Speak your mind, Stan," she smiled.

  "There are a couple situations I want you to be aware of," he began. "First, a news reporter in San Diego named Shannon Thorpe has been writing stories about terrible working conditions and safety violations at the offshore operations of major American multinationals, including Reliant Industries, the company that used to employ Abraham Thompson."

  "That hardly seems newsworthy, Stan. Reliant employs hundreds of thousands of people."

  "Her first story discussed inadequate fire protection at several factories in Brazil, including a new Reliant building," he said.

  "What's your point, Stan?" she complained.

  "That story was published four weeks ago. Last night, a fire broke out in that plant, leveling it. The fire spread to several nearby buildings, igniting propane cylinders and causing several tanks of chlorine gas to burst. The fires are still burning at this time, and the death toll is in the thousands."

  "Oh my God," the attorney general gasped.

  "Three days ago, Frederick Drake, the CEO of Reliant, gave a press conference calling Thorpe's article total rubbish and stating that all Reliant facilities meet local guidelines. This morning, Ms. Thorpe had a new article in the San Diego Union-Tribune attributing her story to a premonition by Ezekiel Thompson," the agent concluded.

  "Cindy, isn't Reliant one of the vice president's biggest supporters?" the secretary of state asked. She nodded her head.

  "Anything else, Stan?" Cindy muttered.

  "Within forty-eight to seventy-two hours, every news agency in the world is going to want to meet Ezekiel Thompson. It wouldn't surprise me if the Pope or Dalai Lama wants an interview with him either. And there is one other thing." The two women stared back and Cindy nodded. "The Mexican government is following up on their request to provide permanent residence status to Jaime Ortiz Sanchez and his family."

  "Remind me again why we would do that for a drug lord, Stan?" Cindy asked.

  "It was their deal with El Tigre to get rid of the other cartel leader, El Tiburon, and dismantle the cartels in that part of the country. Ortiz and his family are already in Hawaii at the Sacred Life Tranquility Retreat. Apparently, Ezekiel Thompson convinced Ortiz to put his family above the business and get out. The Mexican government is also asking for no charges to be filed against Agent Branson, since he is Ortiz's brother-in-law," he stated.

  Cindy sighed and shook her head. "I can't imagine how things could get any worse than this. Stan, just send the papers to my office and I'll sign them this afternoon."

  §

  As the aircraft carrying Zeke approached its destination, the shades on all the windows were closed and his wrists were cuffed to the arms of the seat so he could not peek outside. He had been in the CIA compound in Alaska, so he knew he could be anywhere in the world, but assumed he was still in the United States. Upon landing, he was hooded again and led off the plane and into another SUV. The traffic sounds were loud, so he assumed he was in a large city and secretly hoped it was San Diego again, although the flight was much longer than what he assumed it would be to his hometown. When the vehicle stopped, he was led through two sets of doors and then placed in this cell with no window, and only a small panel in the door for the guards to check on him and deliver meals. There were small cameras in each corner where the walls met the ceiling. He fought the urge to call out to Bea, as her accidental appearance in his cell would be very problematic for both of them. The guards had taken all of his personal effects, and now he thought how angry Taron would be that he was not wearing the ring anymore. But he still had those two devices in his skull. No one had bothered to x-ray his head, yet.

  The lock in the door turned and FBI Special Agent Stephanie Marshall walked in. The door locked behind her. "Hi, Zeke, it's good to see you again."

  "I'm glad to see you up and around," he smiled. "The last time I saw you, you had just been shot."

  "I remember that night very well," she said as she sat on the small side chair. "Thank you, Zeke. I owe you my life."

  "You know everything we say is being recorded, right?"

  "Of course I know that, Zeke," she laughed. "I'm still an agent after all. But I wanted to tell you that I am moving to the CIA as you predicted."

  "Maybe you made that choice after what I told you," he noted.

  "Perhaps, but you were right. That night in San Diego made me reevaluate my goals. I heard what one of the men who took you said. He told the other man not to shoot me because I wasn't guilty. I guess you were right about that too. With all of that in my mind, it makes sense that I'm only half-heartedly looking forward to the CIA. Does that make sense?"

  "That's probably my fault too," he acknowledged. "If I hadn't told you about Peter . . ."

  "What else can you tell me about him?" she asked.

  "Not much, to be honest. It was someone else who told me Peter would be
my best friend for life, but I've only spoken to him a couple of times. But if you're going to marry him, he must be a wonderful guy."

  She laughed again. "Zeke, you're either a prophet or a nut case. I haven't made up my mind yet. Now stand up. My last FBI and first CIA assignment is to take you to an interrogation room."

  He stood warily and looked down. "Okay, I guess. But so far those interrogations have been hard on my face."

  She clicked the cuffs around his wrists and said, "Don't worry, Zeke. I'll be there the whole time and report any physical acts personally. Besides, you have a special guest interrogator."

  "Gee, I'm honored."

  "You should be. He's the vice president of the United States." Zeke looked stunned as Stephanie led him out of the cell and down the corridor and into an elevator car. When the doors opened, the wall across from the elevator was lined with windows, and the skyline of Washington, D.C. filled the view. The Capitol and Washington monuments were less than a mile away past rows of houses and businesses. Stephanie led him down the corridor and then they turned down a second hallway to a door where two Secret Service agents stood guard. She approached them and they checked the security of Zeke's cuffs. "Okay, Zeke. These guys will take you now. I'll be in the room next door on the other side of a one-way mirror. Good luck." She walked further down the hallway and stepped through the next door on that side of the hall. The two agents led Zeke into the room. One wall was a mirror. There was a small conference table and four chairs. The vice president sat quietly at one end of the table. The agents cuffed Zeke to restraints on a chair that was bolted to the floor and then left.

  "It's an honor to meet you sir," Zeke said.

  The man half-smiled at Zeke and turned to face the mirror. "This is a private session, guys, so I'm going to mute the microphones. You can still watch in case something untoward happens." He pressed a button and then turned to look at Zeke. "Mr. Thompson, let's cut to the chase. Are you a terrorist or sympathizer?"