by David Archer
"Good morning, Harry," Sam said.
"Son, I'm about to get on the plane that will take me to Washington. Sometime after I get there, I'll be getting on another plane that will be chasing the one you just got off of. When I get the chance, I'll call and find out how things are going for you there, but just expect to see me sometime tomorrow, before noon."
"Assuming we’re still alive," Sam said. "I'm looking forward to it, Harry. It's about time you got off your lazy rump and got back out here in the field with us grunts. Do you want us to try to pick you up at the airport?"
"No, I'll make my own way to wherever you are. If you've already got the mission accomplished, then will simply celebrate together. If not, then we'll see what I can do to help."
"Sounds good. See you then." As always, the phone went dead before Sam could even say goodbye.
When they pulled up in front of the hotel, Ken simply tossed the man a fifty-dollar bill and got out. From the look on the driver's face, Sam concluded that he was happy to see it.
"They take American money here?" he asked.
Ken nodded and smiled. "They love it," he said. "The exchange rate is about four shekels to the dollar, for an Israeli national. If you or I tried to exchange dollars we'd only get about three and a quarter shekels each. When he exchanges that, he'll end up with almost two hundred shekels, as opposed to maybe a hundred shekels if I'd paid him that way."
"No wonder he was smiling," Sam said. "Sounds like a pretty good racket."
They entered the hotel, and Sam was impressed at its splendor. He was even more impressed when he realized that Ken was paying over four hundred dollars a night for their room. Knowing that the card Ken was using was a phony, and had come from one of his prior assignments, he didn't say a word, but just kept a smile on his face as if he belonged there.
Even though they only had carry-on luggage, a bellman was assigned to show them to their room. They rode up the elevator with the bellman talking nonstop, offering to get them tour guides, special accommodations, which was another way of saying, "I can get you anything you want." They thanked him, but refused any special services, and Ken slipped him a twenty-dollar bill as soon as he opened the door of their room for them.
"Can't say I wasn't glad to see him leave," Sam said. He looked around the room, and whistled. "What a place," he said. "I thought I'd stayed in some nice hotels, but none of them compare to this."
"Yeah, I've been here a couple of times. It's always a nice place to stay." He walked through the room, checking all of the amenities. It was actually more of a suite, with a sitting room and a separate bedroom. There was a king-size bed in the bedroom, but the sofa in the sitting room folded out to one that was just as big, and almost as luxurious. "You can have the bedroom, Sam. I'll stay out here."
"Okay, but there are some things we need to do first. First off, I'm gonna call Harry's man, and arrange for some weapons and Intel. Then, you're gonna show me where to find that steak. After that, if nothing else is going on, we can worry about who sleeps where."
He took out his phone and dialed the number that Harry had given him. It was answered a moment later, and Sam was surprised when he heard a woman's voice on the other end of the line. "Hello, a mutual friend gave me this number and told me to call when I got here."
"Oh, then you must be Samuel. Yes, I've been expecting your call. I have a package for you, and if you tell me where you're staying, I'd be happy to bring it to you."
"Oh, well — okay, then. We're at the King David Hotel, room 640. I think we're going to get a bite to eat, would you be joining us very soon?"
The woman laughed. "Why, yes, I can be there in about fifteen minutes. Is that an invitation to join you for dinner? It's a little early for me, but I wouldn't mind."
"Yes, it is. We'd be happy to have you join us, and perhaps you can fill us in on some of the events happening here in the city that we need to be aware of."
"Oh, I'm quite sure I can. And as I said, I have a package for you, anyway. Very well, I'll be there in fifteen minutes. Perhaps we can meet in the lobby? Near the concierge? I'll be easy to spot, because I'll be wearing a dress. This time of year, most ladies will be wearing slacks. Oh, and I'm a blonde."
"Okay, then, we'll see you when you get here. Oh, can I get your name?"
"Sure. It's Natasha. Be there shortly."
Sam hung up the phone and turned to Ken. "Well, Harry's man is a woman," he said. "I invited her to join us for dinner; hope your phony credit card can handle that. She said she's bringing a package for us, and will bring us up-to-date on what's going on. We're supposed to meet her down by the concierge in about fifteen minutes."
Ken nodded. "Okay. That doesn't leave us time for a shower, but we probably ought to change shirts, at least."
Each of them did so, and Sam took the opportunity to run a razor over his face. All of that took up ten minutes, so they left the room and took the elevator down to the lobby. The concierge desk was surrounded by chairs and couches, so they went over and took seats. They'd only been there a couple of minutes when a lady entered, a blonde-haired lady in a modest dress, carrying what looked like a salesman's sample case. She glanced at the two of them and broke into a grin, while Ken suddenly groaned.
"Natasha Minsky," he said. "I'm gonna kill Harry when I see him."
The woman walked directly to them, so Sam and Ken stood. She smiled broadly, looking at Ken. "Why, Kenneth," she said. "Harry didn't tell me you were coming. If I'd known, I could've baked a cake."
Sam looked her over. She was a blonde, all right, but it was the kind that came out of a bottle to cover gray hair. She was also, if he was any judge, at least in her mid-fifties. Ken looked up at him with a weak smile. "Natasha and I have worked together in the past, on an assignment in South America. Remind me to tell you her history, someday."
Natasha waved a hand as if to dismiss the past. "History is not important," she said. "What most definitely is important, however, is your current mission. Harry sent me a lot of information, and I've been doing some digging on my own, as well. This monster has to be stopped, and right away. His first moves are scheduled for within the next forty-eight hours, but that's as close as I can pinpoint them."
Sam looked down at the case she was carrying. "Should we take that up to the room, or take it into the restaurant with us? I don't know about either of you, but I'm ready to eat."
"We can take it along. I’ve got some files in it that you might want to look at while we have dinner. And yes, I'm starving. I don't usually get to eat this early, but I missed lunch today so it's kind of a blessing for me."
Ken pointed across the lobby to the entrance of the restaurant. "The La Regence," he said. "Sam wants a steak, and their fillet of beef financier is going to be the best steak he's ever met in his life. Shall we?"
They entered the restaurant, and at Ken's request, they were seated in the corner, off by themselves. The waiter took their orders and then left them alone, and Ken asked Natasha to give them an update on Chandler.
"We've got three people keeping him under surveillance," she said, "and they're very good at what they do. They switch out often, and change clothing and hair so that he never realizes it's the same people. He's made two stops, one in Tel Aviv, and then one here on Chopin Street. That's where he's been for the last few hours, and from what we can tell, it must be his local headquarters. If he leaves, I'll be notified, and I'll pass the word on to you."
She had opened the case, and withdrew two files which she handed over, one to each of them. "The first photo you see there is the building on Chopin. It seems to be some sort of office building, but no one seems to know much about it. Some small company that does public relations work, that's all we can get."
"What about security, bodyguards? Is he moving about alone?" Ken asked.
"No, he has an entourage of five or six people with him. They were waiting when he got off the plane, and our people said they were with him the entire time until he got t
o Chopin Street. We have to assume they'll be with him if he leaves, as well. There are photographs in the folder, showing him and the entire group."
Ken flipped through the photos, as Sam did likewise. Sam, of course, didn't recognize any of the faces except for Chandler's, but Ken let out a curse.
"What's wrong?" Sam asked, and Ken muttered the same word again.
"See this guy?" He pointed at a tall man in the photo with Chandler. "That's David Glenn, the one I was telling you about. When Chandler told Harry that he had gone rogue, I assumed that Chandler had him put down. Obviously, I was wrong, and I can tell you that he is one formidable opponent. Chandler uses him for assassinations, but his real specialty is personal security. He's very good at keeping someone safe and alive, and I'm sure that's why he's with Chandler right now."
"Well, let's face it, that would make sense. He may not know we've come to Jerusalem after him, but he knows that there are people out to stop him. He's gonna want whatever security he can get."
Ken was nodding. "Yeah, it's just going to make it a little harder to get to Chandler. And it would be a safe bet that the rest of those men are David's hand-picked people. None of them will be easy to get past."
Sam leaned forward and looked Ken in the eye. "I'm going to tell you something. I'm not a bit worried about getting past those people, because if they get in the way, I want to go right through them. As far as I'm concerned, if they're working with him, they are just as bad as he is. If I have to take a page out of his book, and blow them all up to get to him, that's fine with me."
Natasha grinned and looked at Ken. "Your friend, here, has the same fire in him that you used to have. Remember Venezuela? That's how you felt about Torres, and you got him. I was impressed."
"Sam has a lot on the line on this mission," he said. "He has a wife and little girl back home, and he wants to get back to them. At the same time, he knows what will happen to them if Chandler manages to pull off what he is up to. That's what gives him the fire, but I'm hoping to help make sure he gets to see his family again."
The woman turned and looked Sam over. "There must be something special about you," she said. "Harry Winslow told me I'm to obey your orders just as if they were his. He's never given me instructions like that before, so that tells me he has the ultimate confidence in you. Now, frankly, I'll do as he says, but I don't know you like he does and so I don't have that confidence in you. If you get me killed, Sam Prichard, I'm going to be so pissed off at you!"
Ken winked at Sam. "Word to the wise, don't get her killed. She's a former Soviet agent, came over to our side after the fall of communism. If there's one thing she knows how to do, it's hold a grudge. I don't think even death would be enough to keep her from getting her revenge."
"I'll bear that in mind," Sam said. "So, Natasha, do you have any ideas on how we can get to Chandler?"
She shook her head. "Not at this moment, no. Right now, I'm waiting for my surveillance team to let me know when he moves again. That may give us some opportunities, and that's all I can hope for, don't you agree?"
Sam shrugged. "I just want to put a stop to this madman, and at this point I don't care how I do it. He's a mad dog, and the only way to deal with a mad dog is with a bullet in its brain."
"What about hardware?" Ken asked. Natasha picked up the case, and tilted it so that Ken could see inside, and then did the same for Sam. He saw that there was an assortment of weapons in the bottom of the case, and nodded his approval.
The waiter brought their meals, and they switched to small talk as they ate. Sam made so many moans of Epicurean delight that Ken began to chuckle at him. "That's pretty good, isn't it?" he asked, but all Sam could do was nod his head vigorously as he continued to chew.
The meal was delicious, for all of them, but soon it was over. Natasha accompanied them up to their room, and they spent some time looking at other parts of the file she had brought. There were photographs that showed the building on Chopin Street from different angles, including from the roofs of nearby buildings. "I've thought of putting snipers up there, to try to take him as he leaves, but from what I can tell, it looks like there may be cameras watching those roofs. Up on top of that building, in the photos, can you see those things that protrude upward? I believe that those are security cameras, so I think any activity on the nearby buildings would be detected."
Both of the men nodded, agreeing with her assessment. "I think," Ken said, "our best bet is going to be trying to catch him on the street. If we can get him while he's in a car, or moving from vehicle to building, then we have a chance of making a good strike. I don't want to miss, because I don't think we'd get a second chance. This guy knows so many secrets that he's surely been the target of assassination attempts in the past, so the very fact that no one has taken him down says he's a pro at anticipating and surviving them."
"Agreed," said Natasha. "But you also can't forget that he is playing on prophecy. Jerusalem is the center of the three greatest religions on the earth, so given the chance, there's no doubt in my mind that he would attempt to make his actions appear to fulfill some prophecy. Now, according to Harry, Chandler is into some old Babylonian/Mesopotamian prophecies regarding the sun god, Shamash. Those prophecies also predict the rise of a Beast-like figure, but without the appearance of Jesus at the end of his reign. His followers believe that he will rule the world for the rest of eternity, and will in some way become immortal because of his allegiance to the sun god. If Chandler gets the opportunity, I'm sure he'll try to take anything we do and fit it into one of those prophecies."
"I'm not concerned about any fulfillment of false prophecies," Sam said. "As a Christian myself, I follow the view of the biblical prophecies, including those in the Book of Revelation. If it should turn out that Chandler truly is the false prophet, the second Beast of Revelation, then so be it. From what I've learned, if that's the case then the Rapture should be coming any day, and my family and I won't need to worry much about it. The problem is that I don't believe that's the case, so this madman is trying to force things to happen outside of their time. In order to do that, he's willing to sacrifice literally thousands of lives, including the lives of many thousands of children. That would make him the greatest murderer in history, in my book. Granted, there have been genocides that have killed more people, but I can't imagine any single murder event that could kill so many, and have such a devastating impact upon an entire nation as his plan to wipe out all those schools."
Natasha nodded sadly. "I agree with you," she said. "But while you would hate to see so many of your children die in that attack, I don't believe you have seen the big picture. By laying the blame for it upon radical Muslims, Chandler will be launching a whole new form of warfare upon the Islamic people. Every American, especially the many thousands who will be connected personally to the children who die, will be ready to see Muslims die in retribution. Thousands of your people will take up weapons and begin to murder every Muslim they can find, in the belief that they are somehow avenging those who have been lost. This is Chandler's true plan, for it will cause Muslim nations to demand action against your country, and it could lead to a third world war. It certainly will, if something doesn't happen, but that is the rest of his plan. His puppet, whoever it is, will suddenly arise with the answer that will bring peace. Every nation that is screaming for your destruction, because of Chandler's control over those in power within them, will accept that puppet's suggestions and agree to some form of peace. Other nations' leaders, also under threat of some kind of exposure by Chandler, will similarly bow to this puppet. With so much support, it will be a matter of no more than weeks or months before the world is ready to accept that person as some type of global leader. Any nation that resists, will of course face extinction, for it will not be able to stand against an army of millions, an army made up of the armies of a dozen nations, or more."
Sam shook his head. "And thus is ushered in the New World order. You know, I understand that the true Antichrist wi
ll be a monster as far as his actions against the people, but at this point I have trouble imagining anyone who could be a greater monster than Grayson Chandler."
"Well, now you know why I've been trying to stop him for a couple of years," Ken said. "I didn't have any idea just how bad he could get, just how evil he truly is, but I knew that he had to be stopped. I was just concerned about the threat to our national sovereignty, but this — this evil is so far beyond anything I had imagined that I — all I know is, he has to die."
8
Sam left Ken and Natasha talking in the sitting room, while he went to take a shower. The long flight had left him feeling less than fresh, and he wanted to get into some clean clothes. When he got out, he got to take a look at the weapons Natasha had brought them.
There were an identical pair of silenced nine millimeter pistols, as well as a pair of heavier forty caliber Glocks. Sam was delighted at these, especially when he found three additional magazines for each pistol, and two boxes of extra ammunition for each.
In addition, in the bottom of the case, he found a box that he opened. Inside was a weapon he'd never dreamed of, a strangely modified Colt forty-five government model that, when assembled, would have a longer barrel in the shoulder stock. A laser sight tucked under the barrel would presumably give this weapon some incredible accuracy at medium range. This was a carbine, a short-to-medium-range sniper's weapon, small enough when disassembled to smuggle into a building under normal clothing, but powerful enough to do the job. A pair of long, thirty round magazines were provided, and both of them were full of forty-five caliber ACP rounds.
Since Ken was still busy talking, Sam chose the pistols he wanted and left the others. He showed Ken the carbine conversion, and saw the smile that it brought to his face.