by Jim Magwood
“So what do we do about it, if it’s so common? There’s times when I get the feeling I should just walk out of the job, right on the spot. That maybe I’m a danger to others around me. That I won’t be able to hold up my load. I’m a cop, Steve. I can’t walk around never knowing when I’ll collapse. When I don’t know if I’ll drop out in a situation and leave someone in trouble. I’ve got partners who are counting on me and I can’t drop out on them.”
“I understand, but it’s not something you can get around just by pretending it’s not there, or by trying to be stronger or something. Stress problems have to be recognized for what they are, Paul, and then worked on. They don’t go away if we just worry about it or if we ignore it.”
“So, how do I work on this thing? I don’t want to go to the department. I’d be grounded in a minute. But, I do have to do something. I just don’t know what.”
“Paul, there a section in Scripture that maybe speaks to this situation. Hold on and let me look it up here. Yeah, here it is, Psalm 55, verses 3-5. And I think it’s best as expressed in the Living Bible. A little more modern in the wording. King David was in great fear of his enemies at this point. And he was praying: ‘My enemies shout against me and threaten me with death. They surround me with terror and plot to kill me. Their fury and hatred rise to engulf me. My heart is in anguish within me. Stark fear overpowers me. Trembling and horror overwhelm me.’ Does it maybe sound a little like the way you’re feeling?”
“Yeah, maybe a little. But he had real enemies. It doesn’t sound like he was fighting ghosts and goblins.”
“True, but the situation was the same. There was an enemy chasing him and he felt lost, fearful. The words say terror, anguish, stark fear overpowers me, trembling and horror overwhelm me. And the next thing he wanted to do was just get away from it all. Listen. ‘Oh, for wings like a dove, to fly away and rest! I would fly to the far-off deserts and stay there. I would flee to some refuge from all this storm.’ He wanted to run.”
“Okay, so what did he do?”
“Well, can you suggest what he might have done, Paul?”
Paul sat quietly, then said, “He turned to God. I know he did. This was David.”
“Right. Down at verses 16-19, he said, ‘But I will call upon the Lord to save me - and he will. I will pray morning, noon, and night, pleading aloud with God; and he will hear and answer. Though the tide of battle runs strongly against me, for so many are fighting me, yet he will rescue me.’ Kind of sounds confident, doesn’t he?”
“Yeah, he does, but can I be confident? That was David, way back in the old days. This is today. I’m me. Can I have confidence? Can I be sure?”
“Well, there’s some words to answer that right in this section. Verse 22 says, ‘Give your burdens to the Lord. He will carry them. He will not permit the godly to slip or fall.’
Then there’s Philippians 4:6-7 in the New Testament: ‘Don't worry about anything; instead, pray about everything; tell God your needs, and don't forget to thank him for his answers. If you do this, you will experience God's peace, which is far more wonderful than the human mind can understand. His peace will keep your thoughts and your hearts quiet and at rest as you trust in Christ Jesus.’ That’s from the Living Bible, too.
“There’s a lot more verses just like that, Paul, that say that God will hear and answer our prayers, our needs, if we’ll just open up and trust Him. Have you tried that? Have you given Him a chance at this fear?”
After a moment of silence, Paul said, “Probably not. I’ve probably just been trying to cover it, or run from it like David wanted to. I guess I should know better, huh?”
Paul and Steve continued talking for another half-hour, then prayed together. Paul left with a bit of a plan in mind that included making contact with his God and trying to get some strength other than his own.
CHAPTER 90
With the tremendous fallout from his investment scheme sweeping the country, even parts of the world outside the U.S., Jeff Sheldon decided to pull in his horns. The various computer events he had created were overlapping each other daily, and different parts of the nation, the different city, state and federal government branches, and thousands of people worldwide were reeling with fear, anger, hate and the desire for revenge. No matter what the government did these days, there was a screaming mob blocking the plans and chasing the politicians down the roads.
The DEA personnel still had not recovered from the travel plan cancellations and billing and payment fiasco. Many personal credit cards blasted in the scheme were still not replaced and the people were suffering.
The disruption in the money flow following the scheme against the Federal Reserve had been overcome, but many people and companies who had been on the short end of the stick were still just beginning to recover—and the memories were long. Then the thousands of mortgage payments he had stopped from individuals and companies had simply added fuel to the fire. Money, payments, invoices and the like were definitely not being trusted any more.
When he planted the news stories about the mysterious hotel bomber, the news media went running crazy for a couple of weeks. Even as each so-called lead was proven to be false, the stories kept the hungry reporters frantically pushing for more—and each story sent investigating reporters banging on doors across the country, with often lame, but pretentious stories following.
And now the investment scheme had become the coup de grace of his work. Nothing any politician could say or do anywhere was taken seriously anymore, and every one of them was shouted down no matter what he or she said or how honest they had been. Across the U.S., even in many foreign countries, the clamor against anything a politician did was furious and often violent. The best any politician could do any more was simply hide low and keep out of any press situation. Don’t let a face be seen; don’t let a single word be broadcast. You were wrong and a crook; deal with it.
And the governments were reeling with the inability to get anything done. No more massive writing of useless laws, nor of valuable ones. No more pork, but no more desperately needed bridge or road repairs. No more needed judicial appointments were made; authorities such as the TSA were simply being ignored (passengers simply walked past them or walked away from their flights); massive numbers of NSF payments were being sent with impunity; and worse, people were simply canceling their planned spending everywhere.
Vacations were cancelled. Home repairs, new car purchases, medical plans, donations to anything that had “government” attached to it. People were simply walking away from everything they had planned to do. Voting campaigns were quickly pulled back by virtually all politicians or organizations because the few campaigns that had actually got to the public were simply swamped by huge majorities of voters voting No on everything.
The government was next to crashing.
While Jeff was thrilled with the chaos he had put into motion, he was also aware that the more he put his computer on the line for the events, the more possibilities there were that someone would catch an error he had made and find a link back to him. He had seen a small search come back up a line he had used in the mortgage scheme and recognized someone was searching. He thought he had been able to stop the searchbot in time, but in today’s computer world you just did not really know what was taking place. There were too many experts out there to ever think you were the best and therefore immune.
He had continued his work for his government masters all along, but was wondering now where he should go with his life. Should he just ride everything out, pull back from anything else for a considerable time and see what developed? Or should he plan to pick up his life and move it elsewhere? Quickly? How close was anyone to finding him, or were they at all?
He had had numerous conversations and meetings with his bosses and the agencies he worked for and had never felt any hint of suspicion from anyone. He had even received several new projects since all the disruption had begun. Search out everything to do with senator so-and-so. Try to track t
hese computer links between certain banks. And on. He figured he would never have received work related to the messes he had created if there was any suspicion directed at him—but you never really knew until they walked through your door with the warrants.
As his computers hummed with the work he had already set them on, Jeff leaned back in his chair and tried to figure out what he should be doing. There were no easy answers. Stay or leave? Now or later? Leave officially or just pick up tracks and disappear? And leave to where?
He had many places he could go that he had researched for years. Just making the decision was the difficult part. He already had several passports he could use and could get any number more within hours. Money was certainly no problem. He had millions (even billions now?) stashed in bank accounts around the world.
Travel was easy. He could charter a private jet almost immediately, be in Canada within an hour or so and then be on his way to anywhere from there. At this point, security to find or track him would be non-existent. He knew facial recognition software would likely pick him up in any major airport terminals, so using private flights from small regional airports would be best. A Canadian passport with a different name and slightly different facial characteristics would get him through probably unnoticed, then changes in identification and passports in different countries would probably make him disappear.
Where would he go? Hey, he thought, I’m packing my bags already. I guess I’m going? Anything in the Caribbean was too close. Government agents could be there any time and their relations regarding “exporting” prisoners quietly was a known fact.
Some little coastal villa in Italy? Tucked away on a beautiful exotic island in the Med? It would need to be someplace that was already fairly sophisticated and upbeat, yet allow him to hide himself in luxury without really being noticed. Nothing South American. Nothing there but playboy retreats or drudgery. Nothing in the Orient. He would stand out too much by appearance almost anywhere there. What about Israel?
He could easily buy himself a good life there and could hide in the masses of visitors or expatriates or people flocking “home” from around the world. Stay out of Jerusalem. Too much trouble to get into. Haifa? No, Tel Aviv. It was larger. He had been there before. Beautiful; large; everything available; masses of people working, living and playing. Lots of money so he wouldn’t stand out. Good climate. Perhaps a home in Tel Aviv and a villa out of the city somewhere to get away for quiet? Sounding better by the moment.
So, why not now? Why wait? Was there anything here to keep him? Yes, a few details of things he had set in motion to clean up, but nothing else. No family. Sell the penthouse overnight, or just leave it. The money was already set in place. He already had everything on his computer systems backed up onto portable drives. Do another mass backup, put the drives in his bag, erase everything on all the office systems, reformat the drives so they would be completely empty and walk away.
A few phone calls to a few people to finish the other business he had going, then be gone to a better life.
He knew all along he would never have been able to actually destroy the hated United States, but this would be sweet, and a simple end to all he had done.
Tel Aviv? Hmmm.
CHAPTER 91
“Good morning. I’m looking for a Detective Paul
Corbin.”
“That’s me. How can I help you?”
“I’m Virginia Cannon, floor supervisor at Walter Reed
Army Hospital here in D.C. We have a patient here who has asked to speak with you, and he said he wanted it to be a personal visit.”
“That can be arranged, but who is it?”
“His name is Frank Kimball, ex-Army, and he says he has information for you.”
Paul was already exclaiming, “Sarge?”
“Yes, that’s what he called himself.”
“How did he get in there? What’s wrong?”
“Well, he’s retired Army so he has the right to be here. Apparently never claimed any veteran’s rights except his pension, but he cashed his way in and so we’re treating him.
“He’s an older gentleman and looks like he got caught out in the cold and couldn’t fight off infection. Very severe case of pneumonia with a lot of complications from his age. It’s serious and he looks like he doesn’t have too much longer. He also doesn’t appear to want to fight it much either, so we’ve kind of got a losing battle on our hands. Can you come by soon?”
“Absolutely. We’re on our way right now.”
The red light and screaming siren got them across town to the Fourth District and Walter Reed in record time, and the men rushed through the hospital and to Sarge’s room. Virginia Cannon caught up to them at the room and explained, “He appears to be going downhill quickly. As I said before, he doesn’t want to fight this, so he’s going quickly. We’re treating him, but it’s not working. Frankly, though, he’s said he wants to go so we’re not pushing too hard against his wishes. No family, so we’re keeping him comfortable, but there’s not much more we can do.”
“Can he talk? Will he know us?”
“Yes, he’s cognizant. We’re keeping him quiet and without pain, so hopefully you won’t have to roust him too much?”
“I hope not. But he can talk to us?”
“Yes. Let me see if he’s okay and then I’ll bring you in.”
She went in the room and the men heard her say, “Sarge, there’s some visitors here for you. Are you okay to see them?”
“Is the one the guy I asked for?” they heard him softly respond.
“Yes. He’s Detective Corbin.”
“Okay,” he said.
The nurse returned and said, “Okay, gentlemen, you can go in. I guess, in the circumstances, you can stay as long as you want. Just use the call button if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” they said, and entered the room.
Jake had not seen Sarge before, but Paul was amazed at the difference from the time he had been with him. Shrunken, emaciated, pasty-faced, definitely going downhill. Definitely not the man he had seen before. The previous Sarge had been a man getting old, but strong, physically fit and energetic. This Sarge was on his way out.
Sarge turned his head as the men approached and said, “Told you you might see me again.”
Paul gently replied, “Yes, sir, you did. I won’t ask how you are. Anything I can do?”
“Nope. They’re doing it all, but I don’t need it any more. Time’s up. Time to go.”
Jake said, “We haven’t met officially. I’m Jake.”
“Yeah, saw you at the tracks that day peeking ‘round the corner. Know the girl got hurt at that hotel. She doing okay?” “Yeah, she’s recovering, Sarge. Thanks for asking.”
“What happened shouldn’t happen to anyone. Glad she got out okay.”
“Yeah, She had to have a lot of medical work, but she’s on the good side now.”
The men stood for a moment while Sarge closed his eyes and breathed laboriously a few times. They had seen enough death between them to recognize he was going soon.
When he opened his eyes again, Paul asked, “You called for me, Sarge. What can I do to help?”
“Two things. Want you to know I had nothing to do with any of the stuff going on. No schools. No shooting. Not the hotel or that guy. Just knew things I picked up on the street. Okay?”
Somehow, both Paul and Jake knew he was telling the truth. They both nodded as Paul said, “We believe you, Sarge. Anything else you can tell us about any of it?”
“No, don’t know any more. Wish I did.”
“Okay, Sarge. You doing okay right now?” Paul was wondering if he should pray with the old man or something and snuck a look at Jake to see what he might be feeling.
But Sarge replied, “Nope. I’m okay. Had a good talk with the Chaplain a bit ago. I’m okay to go now. Made sure of that.”
Paul felt close to tears at that and prayed silently for the old man.
“One more thing. Jake, get
me my old coat in the closet there, okay?”
Jake got the coat and, through habit, quickly patted it down for weapons, then handed it to Sarge.
The old man reached into a pocket and pulled out a folded paper, smoothed it out and handed it to Paul.
“This here’s my will. Had an attorney do it up just before I came in here. You can see his name and all on the bottom there so you can look him up. It’s all official and proper. Want you to take care of it with him, make sure things are done right. Your name is in there so it will work right.”
Paul quickly read through the paper, then looked quizzically at Sarge while he handed the paper to Jake to read.
“Sarge, what do you mean here? You’re leaving everything you have to Sylvia? How do you know her?”
Jake was also looking at the old man with somewhat skeptical amazement.
“Don’t know her except through the news. Don’t have anywhere else to leave my stuff, so wanted her to have it ‘cause of what she went through. Maybe pay her back some for her trouble ‘n all. Looked up her name in the papers and described her working with you, so the lawyer said it would work okay. You’ll make sure it happens, right?”
“Well, yeah, Sarge, but are you sure. You don’t have any family or anyone…”
“Nope. Never married. Didn’t leave any kids behind. Nobody out there. You acted good to me, and then with her getting’ hurt ‘n all, I figured no place better to give it. Okay now?”
“Yeah, Sarge. I guess it’s okay. And I’ll take good care of it for you.”
“Okay, then. You guys get out of here now and leave an old man in peace. I got someplace to go an’ you’re just holdin’ up the train. Scoot on out now, here?”
As the men turned to go, both of them put out hands and touched Sarge’s shoulders gently. Jake was starting to step to the door, but Paul turned back and, with tears in his eyes, said, “I’ll be praying for you, Sergeant.”
The old man’s eyes lit up a bit at hearing the old title, then he smiled and said, “Yeah, you do that. I’m okay now. You go be okay, too. Take care, son.”