Flee The Darkness

by Grant R. Jeffrey

  “What do you mean by believer?” she blurted out, looking around the small gathering. “What makes a person good enough to be taken up with the Lord?”

  The woman sitting in the next chair reached out and caught Lauren’s hand. “None of us is good enough,” she said simply, her voice low and smooth. “We are accepted by God because of Christ’s perfection, not our own.”

  “A believer is one who has placed his life in God’s hands.” The minister studied Lauren for a moment. “Excuse me, but you are an American, right?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled. “What do you do in America?”

  Lauren felt herself blushing. “I, um, work in the political system.”

  “Very good.” The preacher lifted his bushy brows. “Then let’s consider a simple analogy. The American president now is Samuel Stedman, yes?”

  Lauren nodded.

  “And you believe with your head, your intellect, that this Samuel Stedman exists? You have seen his picture, heard his voice?”

  Lauren nodded again, smiling. If only this preacher knew how well she knew Sam Stedman!

  “Very good.” The minister was counting on his fingers; he moved from the first finger to the second. “Did you believe in Samuel Stedman enough to vote for him in the election? Do you believe in him with your heart because you agree with his principles and policies?”

  “I do.”

  The minister smiled and pointed to his third finger. “So you believe in him with your head and heart. This is good. But do you believe in Samuel Stedman enough to be assured that he would save your life? If you were kidnapped on the streets of Brussels by a group of terrorists, do you believe the American president Samuel Stedman would come personally with his armed forces to rescue you? Could you trust him with your life?”

  Lauren lowered her gaze as the question hammered at her. Would Samuel Stedman—her president, her employer, and her friend—risk his life to rescue her?

  She looked up at the minister. Obviously, he expected her to answer no, but he had no way of knowing that Lauren and Samuel Stedman were nearly as close as father and daughter. Despite the affection and love that existed between them, however, Samuel Stedman was president of the United States. He couldn’t risk his life for one insignificant woman, no matter how dear she might be.

  Shattered by the realization, her voice trembled as she answered, “No.”

  The preacher looked directly at her, his eyes dark with wonder. “The Lord Jesus, Son of God, cared enough to leave heaven for you. Though he could have summoned the armies of heaven to prevent his pain, he suffered and died for you.” He placed his Bible on the work counter, then lifted his hand and slowly curled it into a fist. “He will hold you tight, young woman, if you trust him with your life. That is what true believers do, and those are the people who will leave the earth at the Rapture.”

  Lauren lowered her gaze as she took the words in. A shrill electronic beep rang through the bookbinder’s shop, signaling the time, and the preacher took a backward step, effectively dismissing the meeting. The others stood and moved toward the door, sharing smiles and handshakes as they filed out, but Lauren scarcely noticed, so intent was she upon her thoughts.

  She felt a hand at her elbow and looked up to see Daniel standing by her side. “Don’t you have afternoon appointments? Shouldn’t we get back to the hotel?”

  “Yes.”

  They stood and turned to follow the others, but another touch stopped Lauren.

  The minister stood behind her, a printed leaflet in his hand. “Please come back.” His dark blue eyes were soft with kindness. “But if you cannot return, you can read this material. If you cannot read this material, you can still trust Jesus Christ with your life. It is a simple thing, an act of the will and an attitude of the heart.”

  “Thank you.” Lauren reached out and took the leaflet, then slipped it into her pocket. “I am glad I came.”

  She followed Daniel onto the sidewalk, then walked by his side for two blocks, neither of them speaking. She was about to ask for his thoughts about the meeting when he stopped and abruptly turned toward her.

  “I wanted to ask you about something,” he began, his eyes narrowing in concentration.

  Lauren stopped, too, and put her hands into her pockets, warmed by the thought that he cared about her opinions. “Yes?”

  “Adrian Romulus has offered me a permanent position with the European Commission. I think I’d be doing pretty much what I’m doing for the American government, but it’d be a bigger opportunity, of course, because the European Union will be a larger entity than the United States. And there’s always the possibility that I’ll be able to extend the Millennium Project throughout the world. It’s almost a given necessity, for once a nation uses the Millennium Code to fix their Y2K problems, it’s only natural that they would want to sign on with our other Millennium advances.”

  Lauren stared wordlessly at him, her heart pounding. Was he actually considering Romulus’s offer?

  His eyes burned with the clear light that shines in the heart of a flame. “Of course, I’d still be spending quite a bit of time in Washington and Mount Vernon,” he went on, reaching out to take her hand. “And I’d make a point of seeing you whenever I could.” He lowered his gaze into hers, and seemed to probe her very soul. “I don’t want to lose you, Lauren. I want to spend as much time as possible with you, whether we’re here in Europe or back in the United States. You could take some time off and travel with me; you’d be right by my side every step of the way.”

  Lauren drew a deep breath and flexed the fingers of her free hand until the urge to strangle him had passed. Had he no loyalty at all? He obviously considered his responsibilities to President Stedman a trivial obligation, easy to shrug off whenever a better prospect appeared on the horizon.

  And he hadn’t even considered her loyalty to the president. He seemed to think she’d be thrilled to quit her job and fly around the world, that she’d be content to stand by his side and bask in the light of his egotistical, arrogant genius.

  “You’d better make your decision quickly.” Her voice was hoarse with frustration. “Because we’re going home. The president sent a cable just this morning—he wants us back in Washington by Friday. We’re supposed to meet with General Archer for a debriefing.”

  Daniel’s face went blank with shock. “Why is he calling us back?”

  “Because he can.”

  Before Daniel could offer another word to confuse her, Lauren whirled away and left him on the sidewalk.

  TWENTY-ONE

  10:18 A.M., Thursday, February 18, 1999

  “WILL THERE BE ANYTHING ELSE, MR. PRENTICE?”

  The uniformed bellhop stood in the foyer of Daniel’s suite in a deliberately nonchalant pose, waiting for his tip.

  Daniel pulled four hundred-franc notes from his pocket and placed them in the bellhop’s hand. “No, just take good care of the bags, will you? Especially the briefcase.”

  “Of course, sir.” The bellhop turned, then pointed toward the black leather satchel on the dining room table. “Are you forgetting something, sir?”

  Daniel followed the man’s glance, then smiled when he saw that the bellhop was referring to his laptop case. “No, I’ll carry that myself.”

  The bellhop nodded and slipped out of the room. Daniel took a last look in the bedroom, double-checked the garbage cans for any sensitive paperwork that ought not to be left behind, then peered into the bathroom to be certain he hadn’t left his toothbrush by the sink. It was an old habit his mother had drilled into his psyche—the toothbrush was the first thing unpacked, last thing packed. With all the rich food he’d been eating in Europe, Daniel might die from a heart attack, but at least he’d depart this world with healthy teeth.

  He pulled several additional hundred-franc notes from his wallet and dropped them on the bureau for the chambermaid. The abrupt departure order had surprised everyone—even Daniel, who hadn’t realized that President Stedman
knew many details about Daniel’s activities in Europe. The American Millennium Project was progressing on schedule; Daniel received encrypted e-mail updates from Taylor Briner and Dr. Kriegel nearly every day. The European Millennium Project, which should have been of vital interest to the Americans, was proceeding apace as well. All the major European Union banks, government offices, hospitals, and international trading agencies had already begun to run the Millennium Code to correct their Y2K mainframe problems, and Daniel had engaged four major computer corporations to produce PIDs based upon the American design.

  A rap on the door interrupted his thoughts. Daniel hurried to answer it, hoping that Lauren had decided to share a taxi to the airport. She had scarcely spoken to him in the three days since he had mentioned Romulus’s offer of a position with the European Council, and he wanted to clear the air. If she’d only broaden her horizons, she’d see that the world consisted of more than Samuel and Victoria Stedman.

  He opened the door and groaned inwardly when he saw the bellhop again.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Prentice, but this was waiting for you at the front desk. Since it was marked urgent, I thought I should bring it right up.”

  Daniel reached for his wallet as his eyes scanned the manila envelope in the man’s hand. His name had been written in block letters across the front; the nondescript handwriting could have belonged to anyone.

  “Thank you.” He took the envelope and handed the man another tip, then closed the door.

  A simple typewritten slip of paper lay inside the envelope: “Danny boy, I must speak with you before you leave for the airport. Room 411. Come now.”

  Daniel frowned as he read the note. The tone and lingo were Brad’s, and the fact that he’d written seemed to indicate that Daniel’s phone wasn’t secure. And a clandestine meeting in a hotel room could only mean that Daniel was under surveillance as well.

  With only a quick backward glance, Daniel reached for his computer case, then slipped out of the suite and took the stairs down to the fourth floor. When he arrived outside room 411, he listened for a moment, fearing he’d fallen for some sort of trap. Hesitantly, he knocked on the door.

  Brad opened it a moment later. His eyes were serious, but one corner of his mouth turned up in an irrepressible grin. “Danny boy! It’s about time. Get in here.”

  Daniel followed Brad, then frowned when he realized the heavy curtains were drawn. The television poured a loud and melodramatic French soap opera into the room, and a single lamp burned over the corner table. Brad’s briefcase lay open on the bed, but there was no sign of any other luggage.

  A thrill of frightened anticipation touched Daniel’s spine. “What’s going on, Brad?”

  Brad motioned Daniel to a chair, then sat on the edge of the bed. He lowered his gaze and let out an anxious cough, then looked up and gave Daniel a troubled smile. When he spoke, he was careful to pitch his voice below the frenzied voices from the TV. “Long time, no see, friend.”

  “I know.” Daniel tapped his fingers on the table next to his chair. “Now are you going to explain all this cloak-and-dagger stuff, or am I going to have to bribe it out of you?”

  “Daniel.” Brad’s brows drew together in an agonized expression. “I could get in a lot of trouble for what I’m about to tell you. I got this hotel room because I know there’s a tail waiting for you downstairs. I think we’re okay here, but in this business you can never be sure.”

  “Who would put a tail on me?” Daniel hesitated, blinking with bafflement. “Brad, everything we’ve done here is totally above board.”

  “Nothing is ever what it seems, Daniel.” Brad nodded decisively. “You’ve got to remember that.”

  “Okay.” Daniel leaned back in the chair and raked his hand through his hair. “So who are we hiding from? My people or yours?”

  “I thought we were working for the same people.” Brad’s eyes darkened and shone with an ominous light. “We don’t have a lot of time, Daniel; if you’re late to the airport they’ll wonder where you were. So let me just lay the cards on the table.”

  “I wish you would.” Daniel sighed in exasperation. “Is this about Adrian Romulus?”

  “It’s about you, Daniel.” Brad’s mouth thinned with irritation. “We know Romulus offered you a job. We know he wants you to fill some position working for the Council of Ministers. We know a lot more about him, too, but I can’t tell you everything. I’m overstepping my authority to tell you this—the man is dangerous, and he wants you. That worries us.”

  Daniel snorted in derision. “Do you have nothing better to do than sit around and dream up these fantasies? If you know so much, you’ve obviously been following me and tapping my phones—a practice that, quite frankly, offends me.” An unsettling thought suddenly came to him. “Did you follow me to the old rabbi’s apartment?”

  “One of our agents did.”

  Daniel gave him a black look. “Did you eavesdrop even there?”

  Brad shook his head. “No, we weren’t that interested in the old man. We just had a tail on you for security reasons. We’ve had a tail on Lauren, too, but she’s not nearly as interesting to Romulus as you are.”

  Daniel laughed. “Oh—that’s flattering.” His laughter stopped suddenly. “How do you know Romulus isn’t interested in her?”

  A feral light gleamed in the depths of Brad’s dark eyes. “You see a lot when you’re watching someone, Danny boy. And we saw that we weren’t the only ones shadowing you around town.”

  Daniel felt his stomach drop. “You saw someone else?”

  “Romulus had people on you, too. Everywhere. That was quite a parade through the Grand’Place last Sunday. Between you and Lauren darting to and fro, you had us all going a little crazy trying to keep up. But Romulus’s people didn’t follow her—only you.”

  The empty place in Daniel’s gut filled with a frightening hollowness. “So, what am I supposed to do?”

  “It’s easy.” Brad leaned forward. “Just watch yourself . . . and call me if Romulus does anything suspect.”

  “You’ve just said the man himself is suspect.”

  “He is, but I want you to call me if he says anything that might undermine American interests in any way, shape, or form. You’ve got to promise me, Daniel.”

  Brad and Daniel stared at each other across a sudden ringing silence.

  Daniel laughed to cover his rising uneasiness. “You never did tell me how you got a copy of the Millennium Code. Now’s a good time, don’t you think?”

  Brad drew an exasperated breath. “I’ll tell you—if you promise to call me about Romulus.”

  “All right.” Daniel threw up his hands. “I’ll call if Romulus says anything suspicious, but don’t hold your breath. I don’t think he gives two figs about American interests. He has spoken of uniting the world in some kind of interconnected community, but he’s never implied that he intended to be at the center of power.” His eyes locked on Brad’s. “Now spill it—tell me how you tapped into our system and got the Millennium Code program.”

  Brad leaned back and wrapped his hands around his knees. “We knew your Dr. Kriegel was working on the Y2K fix. On the afternoon you went to Canada—our computers logged your flight number, destination, and arrival time—a nondescript van parked on the street outside your headquarters in Mount Vernon. While people shopped and walked around it, the agents inside used a Talegent electronic surveillance device to isolate the electromagnetic radiation from Kriegel’s computer, revealing everything that danced across your professor’s computer screen—that’s how they got a copy of his e-mail to you. Anyway, they knew he’d been successful.”

  “No way,” Daniel said, irked by Brad’s cool, matter-of-fact manner. “We encrypt all our e-mail with PGP. It’s a nearly unbreakable code.”

  “You didn’t have your laptop.” One corner of Brad’s mouth pulled into a slight smile. “You were fishing, remember? You had the little Nokia phone with you. The professor knew you were trying to relax, and he go
t lazy and sent the message without encrypting it.”

  Daniel combed his hand through his hair, feeling restless and irritable. Brad was right. He hadn’t taken the laptop to the cabin; he had told the professor he wanted to leave the office behind. He groaned as his stomach churned with anxiety and frustration. If they had a device good enough to pick e-mails out of thin air. . . .

  “Go on,” he said, knowing what Brad was going to say next. “You knew the professor had the bugs out. So how’d you get the program?”

  Brad cocked his head and gave Daniel a jaunty smile. “It’s a beautiful thing, really. As I said, the Talegent had isolated the professor’s computer. We just commanded it to run the program on your network, and after that, copying the program was simple. As the program played on the monitor in your company vestibule—only a few yards from the van’s parking space— they were able to record every digit, every keystroke.”

  “You probably broke about ten thousand laws,” Daniel drawled, his voice ringing with distinct mockery. “The CIA and NSA are not allowed to spy on Americans in the United States.”

  “So sue me.” Brad grinned. “And don’t take it personally, Danny boy. I had the same kind of surveillance on at least twenty other techno-wizards. You came through for me.”

  Daniel shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

  “No,” Brad’s face went suddenly grim, “Adrian Romulus is unbelievable. Listen to me, Daniel. The man is a charmer, he’s brilliant, and everyone loves him. But we’ve heard reports that he is currently exerting tremendous pressure on three of the nations in the European Union. His agents are inciting unrest in one country, undermining the economy in another, and there’s talk that he has developed some sort of Svengali relationship with the prime minister of yet another—and that’s not good.” Brad’s mouth dipped into an even deeper frown. “No one knows, of course, but last year that prime minister attempted suicide. We fear he might actually succeed in a suicide attempt if Romulus yanks his string hard enough.”