by David Archer
"Harry, we will if it's possible. Just start getting a backup plan ready, just in case. If we go down, somebody has to step up and take over."
"Sam, you're getting me excited. I think I might just decide it's time for me to visit the holy land, myself. If I do, I'll find you, don't worry about finding me." The line went dead, and Sam wondered if the old man were serious or only kidding. Knowing Harry, it wasn't a joke.
Sam kept driving, as the kid had told him to do. It wasn't long before he found himself going out of Arlington, and shortly he was in Alexandria. Ken pointed at a Waffle House™, and he turned in to the parking lot. The Mustang followed him and parked beside the Corvette.
He and Ken got out of the car, just as a short, skinny kid climbed out of the Mustang. The boy wasted no time.
"Okay, real quick," he said, holding up a smart phone. "I need each of you to stand up against the white wall, there, so I can get a picture."
Sam and Ken looked at each other, but the skinny kid with the iPhone didn't look like much of a threat, so they did as he asked. Sam went first, and then Ken took his place as the boy took their photos.
"Okay," the kid said, "let's go in and sit down. We need to be as far away from everybody else as possible, okay?" He led the way inside the restaurant.
They took a booth in the corner, which seemed to be as far from everyone else as they could possibly get. Gary opened up the case he was carrying, and produced not only an ultra-thin computer, but a small printer, as well. He connected his phone to the computer with a cable, and began tapping on the keys and the screen.
"What I'm doing," he said, "is creating a couple of passports. I happen to have some official paper blanks, and I've gone ahead and filled in some basic info, including your height, weight, hair and eye color, things like that that I was able to get from files on each of you. What I'm doing now is adding the photos I just took, so that I can print them out. Don't worry, I've had to do this a couple of times for other people; once it's all stapled together, it's as real as it gets."
Ken looked at the skinny kid. "Who are you, and where did you come from?"
"Gary Stone, and pleased to meet you. No, don't tell me your name, frankly I don't want to know it. It's bad enough, I know his." He pointed at Sam. "Just knowing people like you is enough to get me killed, and I'm trying very hard to live long enough to collect Social Security."
"I don't know why you're bothering, there won't be any money there by the time you’re old enough, anyway." Ken grinned at the kid. "Don't you pay any attention to conspiracy theories?"
"Not if I can possibly avoid it," Gary said. "Good grief, man, I live in a conspiracy theory! I'm trying to get away from such things, don't you understand that? And then guys like you show up, and throw prophecies into the mix. There's just no fairness in this, I'm telling you, there's no fairness in it."
Some papers started feeding out of the printer, and Sam leaned over to get a look at them. He saw his own face peeking off the page, but the information beside it said that his name was James Davis. From what he could see, Mr. Davis was from Bakersfield.
"I hope nobody asks me too many questions," he said, "because I've never even been to Bakersfield."
"If anyone is asking that many questions," Ken said to him, "our covers will already be blown and they'll probably be walking us towards the firing squad."
Gary glanced up at Ken, then looked at Sam. "Yeah, what he said. If anyone is getting that curious about you, you're already in trouble."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I get it. So what can you tell us about this trip to Israel? Any idea who he's going to see there? Any hints on how we can get to him there?"
Gary shrugged his shoulders. "The only address I have is fifteen hundred Chopin Street in Jerusalem. It's some sort of business, but I don't know what. All I know is that we've had to ship things there, so that he could get them when he arrived. I think it may be a safe house, but I'm not sure. The only thing I can tell you is that it's likely he'll be in and out of there while he's in the city."
Ken leaned forward. "And how do you plan on getting us there? Got that worked out yet?"
Gary grinned. "Actually, I do. You're going as special messengers for the Prophecies Desk. As it happens, I've done a few computer favors for them, and was able to ask for this one in return. Of course, Julie over there thinks that you're my uncles, who have always wanted to go and visit the holy land, ever since you both graduated from seminary. I told her that one of you had cancer, and this was the only way you'd ever be able to make your dream come true, so she agreed. And you guys had better appreciate it, because I'm going to be dating her for the next couple of months, and she's not exactly the prettiest girl I've ever known."
Ken grinned at him. "I'll make you a bet, kid," he said. "If you date her for two months, you'll find she's a lot prettier than you thought she was when you started. Hundred dollars on that, shake on it."
Gary grinned back. "No bet," he said. "I've been through that before, back in high school. Besides, she's one of the nicest girls I've ever met. That's one reason I was willing to ask this of her."
"Okay," Sam said, "So we're your uncles, right?"
"Oh, that's just what I told them over at Prophecies. You don't need to know that for anyone else. All you got to remember is that you, Mr. Prichard, are James Davis from Bakersfield, California, and you, whatever your real name is, you're Stanley Clark from Las Vegas, Nevada. Think you guys can remember those names?"
"Kid," Ken said, "do you know how many names I've used? One more isn't going to matter. I can remember it long enough to get on a plane and off a plane, and that's all that matters to me."
"Good enough. So, anyway, your flight is leaving at 11 pm tonight, from Dulles. Just go to the diplomatic gate, it's not hard to find. Great big sign over it says 'diplomatic gate,' so it shouldn't be a problem. Your names – the names on your passports, that is — will be on the list at the gate, and they'll have your boarding passes for you. Incidentally, if you've never been on a diplomatic flight, then here's a word of advice. Don't drink the champagne."
"Why not?" Sam asked, and Ken began to laugh.
"Because, they don't serve champagne on diplomatic flights. It's an initiation that they like to try to pull on newbies, and just trust me when I say you don't even want to know what's in that glass. If it's offered to you, just smile and say no thanks."
Sam looked from Ken to Gary, and shook his head. "Okay," he said. "Somehow, I think I'd better just take your word for it."
Gary nodded. "You'll be a lot happier if you do."
Suddenly, Ken burst out laughing, and pointed at Gary. "I get it," he said. "You fell for it, didn't you?"
Gary looked at him, and glared. "Do you want these passports, or not?" He finished assembling them, then produced a stapler and hit each one twice. He folded them and handed each to the man whose picture it contained. He turned back to his computer and began tapping keys again.
Sam looked at him. "What now?"
"Those passports won't do you much good, without ID to back them up. I'm generating you each a new driver’s license, under the name on your passport."
Sam shook his head, and looked hard at the computer and printer. "Good grief, kid, is there anything you can't do with this rig?"
"Yeah," Gary said. "I can't print money with it. Well, actually, I could, but sure as I tried, I'd get caught. Somehow I don't think I’d do well in federal prison, and besides, I get paid pretty good to do what I do."
"Well, I'm glad you do," Sam said, "and at this moment, I'm just glad you’re on our side."
Gary looked up at him. "Let's get something straight," he said. "I'm not on your side, I'm on my side. It just so happens that the interests of your side and my side coincide at this moment. And I'm not sure I could say that again to save my life."
7
Ron Thomas tapped on the door to Harry's office, and waited to be invited in, as always. It was almost nine o'clock in the evening, but Harry was sit
ting at his desk when he entered.
"Ron, my boy," Harry said, "tell me something good that I really want to know."
"Harry, you know I would if I could," Ron said in return, "but I just don't have anything that great. I checked out that kid you told me about from Chandler's office, and you're right. He's one I'd love to have on our team. Think there's any chance we can get him?"
"Well, if things go according to plan, he's going to be looking for a new job real soon. I'll make a point of putting in a request for him if that opportunity becomes available. What about those travel arrangements I asked you for? Did you get those worked out?"
"Well, yes and no. The quickest I could get you into Jerusalem will be the day after tomorrow. There's another diplomatic flight going out tomorrow afternoon, and I can arrange to get you there in time to get on it. You'll hop a military shuttle tomorrow morning at 6 am, and that will get you to Dulles for the dip flight. It leaves around two in the afternoon, so you would arrive in Jerusalem day after tomorrow, about 10:30 am, their time."
"Good, make it happen. The most important mission in the history of the world is going down over there, and I'll be darned if I'm going to sit here and miss out on it. Even if I get there late, at least I can say I was there for the mop up. That's better than nothing, I guess. Any word from Sam?"
Ron scowled. "Harry, you know good and well that he doesn't bother calling through the switchboard. He calls you on your cell phone, and is probably the only person I know of who can get away with that as often as he does. Sometimes I wonder if he's your long-lost son or something."
"He's not, but I'd claim him in a heartbeat if he was willing. There's something special about that boy, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't love him like he was my own. But don't get your feelings hurt, Ron, Boy, I feel the same way about you, you know."
"Oh, goody," Ron said, "I can claim two of the deadliest men in the world are my emotional family. Gee, Pop, can I borrow the car this weekend? Huh? Can I, can I? Huh?"
"Don't act like an idiot, Ron, you know how I hate that. Anything else?"
"Nope, I just wanted to fill you in on the flight. You know, you probably ought to get some sleep. You're going to be in the air early in the morning, and you won't get much chance to rest before you arrive in Jerusalem. You're talking nearly twenty hours in the air, altogether."
Harry looked up at Ron and smiled, reaching out to stroke his Colonel Sanders beard. "Well, and I can probably do that if you would get the heck out of my office. Go on, Son, I'll be fine. Who's taking me to the airport?"
"That'll be me," Ron said. "George and your car are still out at the cabin in the mountains."
"And that's exactly where I want them to be."
Ron knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he turned and left the office. As soon as he was out the door, Harry picked up his cell phone and punched the button to call Sam. Sam answered on the first ring.
"Hey, Harry," he said.
"Tell me something good, Sam," Harry said, almost echoing the words he had said to Ron just moments before.
"Well, we just checked in for a flight to Israel, and no one is looking at us funny, so I guess we're ahead of the game. I got your text message with the number for your man in Jerusalem. Anything special I should know about that guy?"
"Only that I've given instructions to follow your orders as if they were my own. Anyone who knows me, knows I wouldn't say that unless I have the utmost confidence in you. My people there will have weapons and just about anything else you might need, and they should have an idea of where Chandler is by the time you arrive."
"All right," Sam said. "I don't know anything else to tell you, not at the moment. Ken is sitting in a chair, sound asleep. I wish I could do that, but I'm too stressed out. Listen, Harry," Sam hesitated, then went on. "Harry, if anything happens to me…"
"They'll both be well taken care of, Sam. I made those arrangements the minute you left for DC. In the past, I've always had a strong gut feeling that you would survive whatever got thrown at you, but I'll be honest and tell you that this time, I'm scared. Scared enough that I'm getting on a flight for Jerusalem myself tomorrow afternoon. I'll be a day behind you, but I'm coming."
Sam grinned. "You old fart. You just don't want to miss out on the excitement. Just don't expect us to wait for you; if we get a chance to take Chandler out. After seeing what he had planned, I think it's a tossup which one of us wants to put the bullet in his head the worst."
"No, it's not. I'm quite certain, Sam, that you want to kill him worse than either I or Ken, simply because you have a baby girl at home that you know and love. Neither of us ever had that luxury, so while we might be infuriated that Chandler would target children, we can't feel it the way you can. Just remember that it doesn't matter who gets the shot; it's just important that someone does. Chandler must be stopped, no matter what the cost."
Sam nodded into the phone. "Don't worry, Harry, I know that. And I won't let you down."
"Why, Sam — you never have." The line went dead.
The woman who had checked them in for the flight suddenly picked up a microphone and announced that they were boarding. Sam reached over with a foot and kicked Ken's chair, waking him up. "Come on, Stanley. They're singing our song."
Ken got up, rubbed a hand over his face, then picked up his bag and followed Sam down the ramp and into the airplane. Most of the aircraft was allotted to cargo space, for diplomatic shipments; there were only a couple of dozen rows of seats, so they grabbed two side-by-side. Sam was a little quicker, and got the window seat. Ken didn't seem to mind, because he buckled his seat belt and was snoring again within seconds.
Sam took out his phone and called Indie one more time, telling her and Kenzie how much he loved them and promising their daughter that he would be back home as soon as possible.
"And, Daddy," little Kenzie said, "be sure you don't get shot again. I don't like it when you get shot."
"Don't worry, Sweetheart," he said. "I'll do my best. I love you."
"I love you, too, Daddy," Kenzie said. Sam said goodbye to both of them, and turned the phone off before the plane began to move away from the terminal. A part of him was terrified that he might never see them again, but a bigger part was terrified of what would happen to them if he failed in his mission. He closed his eyes and uttered a prayer that God would help him to achieve what he had to do.
Suddenly the plane began to move down the runway, and then the nose came up and the rumbling stopped as the wheels left the earth. Sam felt the bumps as the landing gear was tucked away, and he was on his way to Jerusalem.
* * * * *
The flight made one stop, in Germany, where it stayed on the ground for less than twenty minutes. Two passengers and several parcels got off the plane, and then the doors were shut while the plane was refueled, and then it turned around and was back in the air again. A flight crewman — there were no flight attendants on board — offered Sam and Ken brown paper bags that each contained a couple of turkey salad sandwiches, a bag of chips and a banana. On the other hand, there was a cooler full of soft drinks, and they were told to help themselves to all they wanted. Sam dug through the ice for a couple of minutes before he concluded that there was no root beer, and settled for a Coke.
There weren't a lot of people on the flight, and most of those who were seemed to be sleeping a lot. A couple of people tried to strike up conversations, but Sam and Ken made it clear they weren't interested in being friendly. Sam felt a little rude, but it was safer than making a mistake that would give away the fact that they were phonies.
They both dozed in and out as the plane flew on through the air, and finally woke up the last time when the pilot announced they were making their descent towards Ben-Gurion airport at Tel Aviv, Israel. Sam sat up and watched out the window as the plane came down, and finally touched the runway.
This time, the plane taxied all the way to the terminal. It parked near what Sam guessed was the equivalent of the diplomati
c gate, and some portable stairs mounted on a truck were driven up to it. A flight crewman opened the door, and everyone was allowed to disembark.
An Israeli policeman was waiting at the bottom of the stairs to guide them all to the appropriate line for diplomatic visitors. Because they had diplomatic passports, none of their bags were searched and they did not pass through customs, but were led to a table where a bored man glanced at their passports, stamped them and waved them on past. Five minutes after climbing down the stairs, Sam and Ken were climbing into a taxicab.
"We're going to Jerusalem," Ken said, "the King David Hotel. See if you can get us there without racking up a ridiculous charge, and I'll throw in a hefty tip. How about forty shekels?"
The driver smiled and nodded vigorously. "King David Hotel," he said. "King David Hotel, yes, yes!" No sooner had they shut the doors then the car lurched forward, tires squealing as the driver hurried to collect his tip.
Sam looked over at Ken. "The King David Hotel?"
"Yeah, it's a pretty nice place. I figured, what the heck, I've got a couple of cards that still have some money on them, we might as well stay somewhere nice. After all, we're here to save the world, right?"
Sam chuckled. "I guess so," he said. "Think I should call Harry's friend now? Or wait till we get settled into a room?"
"I'd wait, I think. I think that would be best. It's not that late in the day, so we can take the time to get a bite to eat. I don't know about you, but those sandwiches just didn't do it for me."
Sam nodded. "Yeah, I have to say I could sure use something decent. Can you get a good steak in Israel?"
"The best," Ken said. "Trust me, there's a restaurant at the King David that will put a steak in front of you that will make you drool, and when you taste it, you'll think you've died and gone to Heaven."
"Okay, fine, but shut up about it until we get there. I'm starving!"
The ride took about forty minutes, with the driver being careful not to take any detours, or rack up any extra miles. Sam took out his phone and called Indie to let her know they had arrived safely, but it was only 6 am in Colorado, so he told her he loved her and let her go back to sleep. A moment later, his phone rang and he saw that it was Harry.