by David Archer
Ken nodded. “It's even worse than that,” he said. “I bet you the sonofabitch is in there eating breakfast. You know what I'd give for a big plate of pancakes right now? Or French toast?”
“Shut up, you're making me hungry,” Natasha said. “We don't have time to worry about food right now. That was always part of your problem, Kenneth, you always let inconsequential things distract you when there are more important matters to attend to.”
“There is nothing more important than breakfast— it's the most important meal of the day! Didn't anyone ever teach you that? Oh, wait, I forgot. You're Russian, for you would be lunch that's most important, right?”
“Would you two grow up?” Sam asked. “Natasha, where are your surveillance people? Are you still in touch with them?”
“We did grow up, and we didn't like it, so we went back to acting like children just to annoy you. Yes, they're inside, still keeping an eye on Chandler. I've got a couple on him right now, a man and a woman. They don't look out of place in there, so he probably hasn't noticed them at all. I instructed them to let us know the moment he starts to leave.”
“Good. Then I guess all we can do is wait.” Sam leaned back in the backseat of the car and tried to relax. “If I doze off, wake me when the fun starts. I'm for snatching the sonofabitch right now, if we can. Only question then is where we take him.”
“If you figure out a way to grab him, I can handle that part,” said Natasha. “There are still places around here where you can do that type of thing. You snatch him, and I'll show you where.”
“Sounds good,” Sam said. “Like I said, wake me up if things start happening.”
The three of them relaxed and waited, with Ken and Natasha keeping an eye on the restaurant. A half hour passed, and then an hour. Sam actually managed to doze off for a bit, but the other two sat there wide awake the whole time. They played a game of tic-tac-toe on scrap paper to occupy themselves.
Suddenly, Natasha's eyes lit up. “He's up,” she said, “and headed for the door. Apparently he's leaving with whoever it is he met with here. They'll be coming out the door in a second, there are six of them.”
Sam sat up and looked toward the door. “Six of them?” he asked. “Do we have any idea how many might be armed?”
“If they're French Embassy, Sam, you can assume they all are. They're almost certainly DGSE, Direction générale de la sécurité extérieure. They're sort of like the CIA, though a bit more inclined to be public about their affairs. Duck down, here they come.”
* * * * *
It was after midnight, but Indie couldn't sleep. She was sitting on the bed, computer in her lap and Kenzie snoring softly beside her, when the message box appeared.
Stony: Herman?
Herman: I'm here.
Stony: I found some stuff, but I don't think you're going to like it.
Herman: Gee, that's comforting. How bad is it?
Stony: Bad enough to make me wish I'd never taken this job, I can tell you that. My boss isn't just playing off the prophecy angle; he's actually orchestrating things to make all those prophecies seem to come true. He's got a solution to the world hunger crisis, a way to bring peace to the Middle East, new medical breakthroughs that his puppet can take credit for, you name it. He's planning to rule the world within the next month, I swear.
Herman: Okay, but we knew he had to have some of those things, or he couldn't pull this off. What's got you so upset?
Stony: He's got everything set up. Herman, it's all in place and ready to go. There isn't any Number Two that I can find, but he's got people in place to make sure each aspect of his plan comes off without a hitch. He's got assets in place in every country including our own, and anyone who isn't willing to play ball his way is going to be eliminated. Care to guess who's first on that list? I'll give you a hint: he lives in the Vatican.
Herman: Wait a minute, he's going to assassinate the pope? I thought he was after some European leaders? The Pope isn't in the file you gave me the other day.
Stony: No kidding. Think I would have left that out if I'd known about it? I just found this stuff, and it's scaring me to death.
Herman: Got any timeline? Anything we can use to try to head it off?
Stony: Not yet, working on it. Thing is, I've been reading his internal messages, and he's got people in the office who are working with him to pull this off. This plan of his is designed so that each individual part of it takes its cue from the one before, as in, item B can't happen until item A hits the news. If the pope is item A, like I think he is, then as soon as he's whacked, item B will be triggered, then item C, etc. As far as I can tell, he's got each item primed and paid for and ready.
Herman: Paid for?
Stony: Yeah. He's funneled billions of dollars from a dozen different countries into this project. Some of those countries have agreed to cooperate with his plan, because he's promising them special favors when it all goes down and he's BMOC!
Herman: Well, come on, Stony, there's got to be something we can do! What can you give me? There's got to be something!
Stony: First thing that comes to mind is to tell your old man to back off. As far as I can tell, the only one who can stop this from happening is the boss himself, so if he gets killed, we're SOL! He's already given everyone their orders, they're just waiting for their cues.
Herman: Then let's nail those people! I'm sure Sam could get someone to go after them, round them up so they can't do their jobs!
Stony: Thought of that, but there's a catch: I don't know who any of them are. The email addresses he's using are ones he set up. They're accessed through an anonymizer system, and scrambled so that you have to have an encryption key to read them. All these people need to do is log in the way he tells them to, and they can talk all day long without anyone ever knowing who he's talking to. Even his is a wild card. We couldn't prove he sent or received any of these emails.
Herman: Great. Thinking. You said you're reading his internal messages. Can you send messages out as him?
Stony: I thought of that, too, but so did he. Each of his operatives has a code word that he gave them in a face-to-face meeting. If he sends them any order to change plans, it has to contain that code word, and I have no way of knowing what they are. I figure he must have a list somewhere, but I can't find it.
Herman: I'm calling Sam. He needs to know all this, now. Don't go away.
Stony: I'll be here.
She slipped off the bed and took both the computer and her phone out into the hallway. The cabin wasn't huge, but the loft it had once had had been expanded into a second floor, and she and Kenzie were sharing the first bedroom at the top of the stairs. Her mom had the other one up there, and Grace got the main one down on the ground floor. Poor George had to sleep on the sofa, but he said it was really comfortable.
She sank down onto the floor and called Sam, who answered instantly.
“Babe, it's me,” she said, “and you gotta listen. You can't kill Chandler!”
“Yeah, we'd already figured that out,” Sam said. “What made you think of it?”
“I'm talking to Gary, and he said Chandler's got this all set up so it's like a domino effect. Each part of his plan will go off as soon as the one before it does, and he thinks the first one is going to be the assassination of the pope. That's all set up, but he doesn't know when it's supposed to happen.”
“Sheesh,” Sam said. “Doesn't this guy ever quit? So, has Gary got any ideas how we can stop him, then?”
“Well, maybe,” Indie said. “He says Chandler's got a list of code words somewhere, and all the people he's been sending orders to know that if he changes the plan, he has to give them their code word, the one he told them when they were together. If he doesn't use that word, then they'll know it isn't really from him, and the plan goes ahead. Gary can't find that list; if you can, then he could send out messages that would tell them all to stand down. It's not much, but it's what we've got.”
Sam sighed. “Great.
Well, you called at the right moment. We're just about to do our best to kidnap Chandler, so at least now we know what we need to try to get out of him.”
Indie could hear the tiredness in his voice. “I wish I had something better to give you. I miss you, Sam. I want you to come home.”
“I will, babe, I will,” he said. “Just as soon as this is all over, I'll be home. Kiss Kenzie for me, and tell our mothers hello. And if your mom happens to get any advice for me from Beauregard, let me know, okay?”
Indie couldn't resist a chuckle at that. “I will, babe, I promise.”
She hung up, and pulled the computer back into her lap.
Herman: Okay, I told him. He's going to try to get that list of code words out of Chandler.
Stony: Okay. Wish him lots of luck, because we all need it.
* * * * *
Sam scowled as he put the phone back into his pocket. “Indie's been talking to handler's computer whiz again. He says the plan is rigged so it will go off with or without Chandler, and the only way to stop it is with some code words that only Chandler knows. If we can take him and make him talk, we might be able to stop it all. If not, then...”
“You're always so optimistic,” Ken said, but Sam didn't even crack a smile. They had just watched as Chandler and an entourage of five men and a woman had left the restaurant and climbed into a small van to drive away, and Natasha was trying to follow and keep them in sight, while not getting close enough for them to be sure they were being followed.
“That's what we’re dealing with,” he said. “Chandler's got agents in place all over the world I guess, and each one knows that when something particular happens – one of the events he's set up – then that's their cue to make their event happen. The only way to stop them is a message from Chandler that contains a code word he gave them, and I guess it's a different word for everyone. If we can get that list, then Gary can send out the messages that will stop it all. Otherwise, nothing can stop it before it's too late.”
Ken and Natasha looked at one another, and Ken shook his head. “Geez, this thing gets better and better. I thought I was just out to stop a guy who was trying to bring on globalism and destroy our national sovereignty, and now we're dealing with the fact that we're after a madman who makes Hitler look like a Boy Scout.” He sighed, and turned in the seat to look at Sam. “What you're saying is that if we'd killed him back in DC, or even last night, we'd still have to deal with whatever it is he's got set up, right?”
“Something like that,” Sam said. “I don't know if whoever he's got set up as a puppet is still gonna take charge if that happens, or if it's just that all his disasters will go off and we'll be dealing with the aftermath, it could be either way. All I know is that if we want to stop these things, we need that list of code words or whatever.”
Natasha shrugged her shoulders and looked angry. “That settles it, then. We have to take him alive, and we have to make him talk. No other way, right?”
Sam shook his head. “Nope,” he said. “No other way.”
They continued to follow the van, which went out of Jerusalem on Highway 60, traveling to the north. They'd been on the road for about twenty minutes at that point, and the van seemed to be cruising along at a steady clip. The road was empty out that far, and Sam found himself just watching the scenery flow past.
“Hey, hey, what's this?” Natasha asked. “They're pulling off, turning onto a dirt road. Do I follow?”
Sam sat forward, and grunted. “If you do, they'll know we're here and following. We'd have to move right in, and to be honest, if we try to take them on our own, I'm not sure we'll be able to do it. There are seven of them and three of us, and that doesn't strike me as great odds.”
Ken nodded. “I agree with Sam. Go on by, go another half mile and then turn around. We'll have to park and walk in, most likely, just to do a recon. Try to see what we're dealing with here.”
Natasha nodded and moved into the left lane, slowing to let the van get further down the road and away from the highway. By the time they passed the road it had turned off on, the vehicle was almost out of sight. Natasha pressed the accelerator, then, and sped up to get to where she could safely turn around.
It was almost three minutes before she got to a place where she could do so, and then she hurried back to the entrance to the road. There was no sign of any vehicles, so she turned in and followed the track for a short distance, then pulled over and stopped behind a small hill, out of sight of the actual road itself. Sam had his phone out and was looking at the area on Google Earth.
“Okay, we've got a good-sized residential area off that little side road up ahead, to the north. If they've gone into there, we'll never find them. If they went straight ahead, on the other hand, there's nothing much but a whole lot more desert. I see a couple of big buildings out there, no clue what they might be.”
“Hang on,” Natasha said, “and I'll see if I can find out.” She took out her own phone and dialed a number. “Itzak, it's Tasha. Get my GPS location and tell me what's around here that might interest DGSE agents. Of course I'll hold, idiot, what else am I going to do?” She covered the mouthpiece and leaned over to look at Ken. “Do you know how hard it is to get good people lately? No, of course you don't, you work alone. Never mind, but trust me, it's—yes, I'm still here. Yes? Really? Well, well, isn't that just interesting? Thank you, Itzak, I'll make it up to you later.” She hung up the phone and smiled. “Well, one of those big buildings is the research lab of a joint French-Israeli company named Fire Flower that's been working on a process for making a better fuel grade methanol than what's currently available. Some of the unofficial reports that Itzak has seen indicate that they've been successful. If he's right, then they can now produce a pure methanol fuel that any car can run on, and for less than a nickel a gallon. The process is simple enough to be set up just about anywhere there's a surplus of vegetable matter to use for fermentation.”
Sam had both eyebrows about as high as they would go. “That's great news, unless you own stock in Exxon, but how does it help us?”
Ken chuckled. “Sam, you must be getting tired,” he said. “Chandler wants to be the force behind the Antichrist, so he's got to be able to solve all the big problems facing the world. Fuel and energy are two of the biggest ones there are. Safe bet that it figures in to his plans.” He turned to Natasha. “Do you know how far up the road it is?”
“Not me,” she said, “Sam's the one with the maps. Sam?”
Sam looked at his phone. “There are two buildings, and I don't know which one it would be. One is about a mile and a half ahead, and the other is, oh, twice that. Three miles, give or take a thousand feet, I'd say. And that one is surrounded on the photo by crop fields, so that's probably the one we want.” He looked out through the windshield as if he could see the building in the distance, even though there were hills blocking the view. “I wish I'd grabbed that carbine. We might have had a chance for some sniper work.”
Natasha grinned. “If we do, there's something in the trunk that's even better. M21, the old American sniper rifle. I snagged it yesterday, just on the off chance we might need it. It happens to be one of Kenneth's favorites.”
“Sure is,” Ken said. “One of the finest long range weapons ever made, in my humble opinion, and I mean bar none! Get me to somewhere I can see down onto that building, and I can pick 'em off as fast as they can come running out!”
Sam looked at him for a moment, and then smiled grimly. “You're giving me ideas. Let's go get a better sense of the range, shall we?”
Natasha put the car back into gear, and they moved toward the building where they hoped to find Chandler.
4
The building was right where Sam had said it would be, and they found a place to hide the car from view that was less than half a mile from it. Ken and Sam climbed a hill and found a spot for Ken to hunker down with the rifle, and then Sam went back to the car and Natasha.
“Here's what I've got in mind,”
he said. “I've got an idea on a way to spook Chandler out of there and herd him toward Ken. Once they're away from any possible help, Ken's gonna pick off his escorts, starting with the driver to stop them. Once they're isolated, then, you and I will move in and take him alive.”
She nodded as if this were what she'd been expecting to hear. “Kenneth is good,” she said. “He'll take out the others, and all we should have to deal with is Chandler, himself. We should go on past the building, just in case they try to go out that way. Even with handguns, we should be able to send them back toward Kenneth.”
“Then let's do it,” Sam said. Natasha started the car and put it into gear, and Sam stayed low in the seat as they passed the building where Chandler was apparently playing God. Sam looked at it, then glanced at Natasha. “Natasha,” he said, “I've got an idea.”
They went half a mile past the structure, and found another small hill to park behind. Sam took out his phone and scrolled through the recent call list until he found the one he wanted, then told the phone to dial it.
A tired and nervous voice said, “Hello?”
“Hi, there,” Sam said. “This is James Davis, remember me?”
Sam heard a swallow on the other end of the line. “Whole lot better than I want to,” Gary Stone said. “Can't say I was expecting you to call me tonight. Is there a reason I shouldn't hang up now?”
“Just the fact that you're in too deep to quit now, and eventually you're gonna need me and my friends. Listen, kid, I need one little favor and then I'll do my best to leave you alone, got it?”
A sigh. “What's the favor?”
“I need your boss's cell number, the special one he uses just for his secret contacts. I want to give him a ring.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no way! If I were to give you that, he'd know it was me. See, it isn't one number for everyone, it's one phone with a dozen or more numbers that ring to it. As soon as it rings, he knows who's calling. If I give it to you, he'd know you got it from me, and I wouldn't live ten minutes after that.”