Ken’s mind flashed back to his dream, and he began to sweat once more. “How do you know these things, Dr. Ninomya?” Ken asked, wondering if he really wanted to know the answer.
“A dead sailor from the ship came to me in a dream and told me. The name on his nameplate was Starbuck. Is that helpful?” Ninomya asked.
Nathanial Hawthorne Starbuck, Ken thought. “Yes, Dr. Ninomya, that is very helpful!” Ken said.
“Thank you, thank you,” Dr. Ninomya said. “I wish you much luck and success. Good-bye for now, young Ken!” The line went silent, followed by the dial tone.
Ken hung up and sat back down on the bed.
Donna sat beside him and asked, “What in the world was all that about?”
Ken looked at her, and she looked back with concern, as if she detected his high level of stress and anxiety.
“Do you remember me talking about my dad’s best friend on the Arizona? He was killed at the same instant as my father.”
Donna nodded.
“Well, he has been busy tonight!”
CHAPTER 46
Ken showered and shaved, and upon returning to the bedroom, he saw that Donna had laid out his dress blues for the press conference this morning. Donna always loved it when he wore the uniform resplendent with all of the medals and campaign patches. Ken looked at the uniform and smiled as memories came flooding in.
In the next instant, Ken experienced a bright flash of light and saw Nate shaking his head violently. The flash disappeared as quickly as it had appeared and left Ken slightly dazed and unsteady. The feeling passed, and Ken sat down on the bed, wondering what Nate was so strongly opposing.
He reached over and picked up his uniform pants, only to see the flash again and Nate shaking his head from side to side. Again the flash extinguished, and Ken understood Nate’s message: don’t wear the uniform! He also understood why. A member of the United States Navy, retired or not, in full dress uniform would stand out in a crowd. Nate had warned Ken earlier during the dream encounter to not react to the thing he described as “the evil.” If this “evil” saw any form of military presence at the press conference, it might spook him, preventing Ken from finding out his plans for attacking the United States.
“Thanks for laying out my uniform, baby, but I think I’ll wear a suit. The Chinese billionaire is the star of the show today, and I don’t want to outshine him!”
“I understand,” she called back. “Try the Brooks Brothers gray suit we picked up in Chicago last year. That should help you blend into the crowd!”
Ken laughed and called back, “Yeah, I’ll look just like the rest of the suits!” Ken put his dress uniform back in a garment bag and hung it up in his closet. He retrieved the light gray suit, a white dress shirt, a classic red and black striped tie, and a pair of spit-shined wingtips.
Donna called from the kitchen that breakfast was almost ready and that he should hurry up. Ken quickly dressed and headed into the kitchen. The smell of coffee and bacon filled the room as Ken sat down on the dinette chair. Donna was pouring four whisked eggs into the frying pan when she asked Ken when he was going to tell her what was going on.
“Right now, it is all vague warnings about an attack on the United States. I have no details, but both the quick and the dead tell me I will find out today.”
Donna was alarmed and asked, “You mean like 9/11?”
Ken couldn’t answer her question as to the scale of the attack, but the phone call and visions overnight were convincing indications to him that the scale of the attack could be massive. “I’ll know more later today,” Ken offered. “I don’t think the attack is imminent, or the warnings would have occurred earlier. I have some time to plan and intervene.”
“You have time to plan and intervene?” Donna shot back. “Hold on, quick draw!”
“I have no fantasies about handling this thing alone,” he quickly assured her. “Once I get some details, I am calling Joe Collins—remember, the FBI agent for this district I met last month at a battleship memorial function downtown? Among the FBI, CIA, and Homeland Security, there are more than enough personnel and resources to stop the threat. I’m just the messenger!”
Donna’s shoulders relaxed somewhat at Ken’s reassurances, but there was still some fear and concern in her voice when she asked, “Do you promise to go to the FBI and let them handle it?”
Ken rose from the kitchen chair and walked to the range top. He put his arms around her and squeezed gently. “I was impressive in my day, but now I am a retired old man. I promise to call the FBI first thing when I have more details. Good enough?”
Donna relaxed more in his embrace and upon hearing his promises. “Let me go, or the eggs will burn,” she said in mock protest.
“Let’s see, you or burnt eggs—which should I choose?” he teased.
She turned away from the eggs long enough to give Ken a playful punch in the gut and then returned to the stove, stirring the eggs.
Ken returned to the dinette chair with a cup of steaming coffee and picked up the morning newspaper. The upcoming press conference was front-page news, with an article describing the new facility, the investment into the community, and the three hundred high-paying jobs that would result. The piece also reported on the background and business experience of Dr. John Chin, CEO of Far East Lithium; his PhD from Shanghai University and his multiple business holdings in real estate, pharmaceuticals, and transportation all were listed. Also listed were several philanthropic organizations dedicated to third-world health issues.
Funny that there is no picture of him, Ken thought. There was also no mention of why he had chosen Wilmington. No matter, Ken thought. He figured that eccentric Chinese entrepreneurial billionaires were probably quirky.
Donna served up their breakfast plates, each filled with scrambled eggs (not burned), slices of applewood-smoked bacon, a mound of Aunt Ruby’s southern-style yellow grits complete with one tablespoon of sweet cream butter lodged in the center, and a toasted and buttered English muffin, accompanied by a small bowl of blackberry jam.
Ken looked at the plate and then at Donna. “Are you trying to fatten me up?” he protested.
“Absolutely!” she responded.
They ate and chatted through breakfast, with Ken trying to lighten Donna’s mood and reassure her that he was not going to go all “John Wayne” on this. Donna listened but had her doubts. After almost thirty years of marriage and years of dating before that, Donna knew the man well. He was brave and strong and had an unshakable sense of right and wrong. He had sworn to protect his country against all enemies, foreign or domestic, and would not release himself from that oath just because he had retired. She would continue to worry.
Ken finished his breakfast and stood up from the table. After kissing the back of Donna’s neck, he went to the bathroom to make sure there were no Aunt Ruby’s southern-style yellow grits stuck in his teeth. Once he had brushed, flossed, and rinsed his mouth, he declared himself ready to meet the new day and Dr. John Chin. He stopped for a long good-bye kiss and hug with his wife before walking out to the garage and raising the door.
There it was! Next to Donna and his boys, this was his most prized possession. Parked next to Donna’s Chevy Suburban was his fire-engine red 1968 Sunbeam Tiger convertible. The two-seat Tiger (a.k.a. poor man’s Cobra) had been his hobby for years—tinkering with the suspension, modifying the engine, and adding every performance part he could cram into the tight engine compartment along the way. Ken squeezed his six-foot-four-inch frame into the cockpit and started the engine. The modified Ford V-8 roared to life and then settled into a low, throaty rumble. He thought about putting the top up, but he knew he wouldn’t fit well if he did. Ken backed out of the garage and headed toward downtown and his destiny.
CHAPTER 47
Ken’s tie flew behind him as he cruised down Third Street in the Tiger, headed toward downtown
. He loved the historic old homes and the tree-lined boulevard. He passed by First Presbyterian Church and marveled at the gothic architecture and striking steeple. He and Donna were planning on visiting next Sunday, with lunch afterward on the riverfront. Wilmington had numerous fine restaurants to be sampled. He had tried the seafood chowder and fried catfish sandwich at Elijah’s and was eager to try the shrimp and grits and fried green tomatoes at the sister restaurant, Pilot House, next door. Donna had said to him more than once, “Master Chief, you are obsessed with food!”
Third Street opened up from the historical residential boulevard into a broad city street lined with municipal buildings, downtown churches, and businesses. The parking spots in front of the city council building were cordoned off, and a single black Cadillac Escalade was parked there, with several city police motorcycles and riders in attendance. Ken turned into the building’s driveway and pulled the Tiger into the spot usually reserved for the mayor pro tem. He was out of town, and the mayor had offered the spot to Ken for today’s press conference. The Tiger’s modified V-8 emitted one last roar as Ken turned off the engine. He unbuckled his seat belt, pushed himself up and onto the back of his seat, and then swung his legs over the driver’s door and onto the pavement for a perfect dismount.
Several city council members, county commission members, aides, and assorted dignitaries had also arrived and were moving into the building through the back entrance. Ken waved at John Troxell and Pete Maddox of the Historical Commission and sped up to join them.
The back of the city council building was mostly individual offices housing numerous city departments and personnel. The group passed the offices and entered a large open chamber that held the council dais and auditorium area where meetings could be attended by residents or other interested parties wishing to observe or address the council.
The chamber was crowded with members of the media, including the two local television crews, multiple radio stations including North Carolina Public Radio, and the local Star News newspaper. The cameras, recording devices, and microphones were in place, and the dignitaries and curious were seated behind the central podium in the auditorium.
The city council members, flanked by the New Hanover County commissioners, took their seats at the dais, and the mayor rose to address the group.
“Members of the Wilmington City Council, New Hanover County Commission, and Brunswick County Commission and distinguished guests and members of the media, I welcome you to a very special press conference and announcement. After a several-year search for a new location to expand its business interests in the United States, Far East Lithium Corporation today announces its intent to build and staff a new 100,000-square-foot facility here for the production of high-power lithium batteries such as those used in the Space Shuttle and International Space Station, along with numerous other high-tech applications.”
The auditorium filled with polite applause.
The mayor continued, “The facility will cost over $36 million to build and $12 million to outfit with specialized equipment. Once completed and operational, the facility will bring over three hundred highly skilled and high-paying jobs to our area! These high-tech jobs will join others in pharmaceutical research, nuclear engineering, and jet aircraft engine production in making Wilmington and its surrounding area one of the highest-paying metropolitan areas in the state.”
More applause and a few cheers went up from the auditorium.
“I have press kits with most of the details for all of you, but now I would like to introduce the visionary entrepreneur who is the author of this project—Dr. John Chin, president and CEO of Far East Lithium, and his aide, Ms. Ariana Zahia.”
The auditorium’s attendees rose to their feet and rendered heavy applause as Dr. Chin and Ms. Zahia entered from a side anteroom and into the greater chamber. The audience and dignitaries gave him a quick glance, and then all eyes, male and female, locked onto Ariana Zahia. Ken’s love for Donna was absolute, but that did not stop him from looking this woman over and muttering under his breath, “Well, damn!” He glanced around at the other members of the audience as they applauded and saw many visual examinations of Dr. Chin’s aide in progress.
Dr. Chin arrived at the speaker’s podium, and his aide deftly adjusted the microphone downward to his mouth. He turned toward her and bowed. Ariana Zahia returned the bow and moved to a chair placed on his right. All eyes followed her.
Dr. Chin acknowledged the applause and raised his hand to speak. In fluent English with a slight Chinese accent, he said, “Thank you, dear friends. Your welcome and hospitality are most gracious. I am convinced that your beautiful city and engaging citizenry are a perfect match for my battery production facility. I hope to break ground on the site within the month and am already searching out potential sites within your area for a major pharmaceutical manufacturing facility.”
The audience rose to applaud him again.
“I hope to meet very soon with representatives of your university and community colleges to outline programs of instruction and training to ensure a steady stream of qualified workers for my endeavors. Sadly, I must leave you now to attend to several business opportunities in Europe. I would be pleased to meet the city and county officials before I depart but will have no time for questions. However, please feel free to submit questions to my website, which is listed in the press kit. Once again, thank you, dear friends!”
The crowd rose to their feet again, and the applause and cheers were impressively loud. The mayor moved to his microphone and asked the city council members and county commissioners along with invited guests to move down to the chamber floor and form a reception line to greet Dr. Chin.
The TV camera operators and radio reporters sprang to take up positions to record the event, and Ken fell in line with John and Pete to greet the star of the show. Dr. Chin and Ms. Zahia stood with the mayor as the council members, commissioners, and invited dignitaries filed past.
The closer Ken got to Dr. Chin, the more alarmed he became. The hair on the back of his neck and on his arm was erect, as if he sensed a chill. He felt a slight nausea and shortness of breath, along with a feeling of impending doom. Ken fought the alarm bells going off in his body and concentrated on finding out why this man was triggering these reactions.
Then it was Ken’s turn to shake the hand of the small, badly dressed Chinese businessman who had a bomb of a babe as a girlfriend. “Ken Hager, superintendent of the USS North Carolina battleship memorial. It is a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Chin,” Ken said, offering his hand to the businessman.
In the instant that Dr. Chin grasped Ken’s hand, time seemed to cease. To Ken, it was like examining one frame of a roll of movie film. He felt no pain and did not react to the handshake. But in that instant, he knew Chin’s identity, history, and wretched plan to employ an EMP blast with superior and—up to now—unheard-of range. Ken visualized military and commercial aircraft falling out of the sky from Norfolk, Virginia, to Charleston, South Carolina, with all of their electrical circuits fried by the blast and their crews and passengers screaming to their deaths. He saw thousands of trucks and cars, suddenly deprived of power steering and power brakes, plowing into each other with deadly results. He saw thousands of people with implanted heart defibrillators and pacemakers dropping dead where they stood. He saw Chin’s aluminum case and the folders within outlining the threat and the extortion of a billion dollars from the government.
The handshake ended, and the visions ceased as quickly as they had begun. Ken snapped back to reality and bowed to Chin before moving down the reception line to meet his aide. The speed and power of the previous visions were hammering Ken’s brain, and he felt a little unsteady as he introduced himself and offered his hand.
Her hand was cool and dry, much like the skin of a snake, and Ken fought down another wave of nausea. He sensed evil but also melancholy—coldness but also a capacity for warmth. Ariana was part of
the plot but also had been highly manipulated throughout her life by Dr. Chin. Ken sensed unquestioned loyalty to her boss, superior intelligence, and an almost total lack of empathy or regard for the pain she was about to inflict.
Ken released her hand and began to feel sicker immediately. Ariana smiled at him curtly and bowed her head slightly as Ken, now white-faced and thin-lipped, continued down the reception line. In Ken’s mind, Ariana was an enigma and a bundle of contradictions in a little black dress. He read her as dangerous but as playing only a supportive role in the upcoming drama.
Ken walked out the back entrance and into the fresh air of the parking lot. When he reached the Tiger, his head still ached; his temples were pounding. He took a deep breath, lowered his defenses, evicted the breakfast he had eaten that morning, and passed out cold on the pungent asphalt.
CHAPTER 48
Ken’s eyes fluttered as he struggled to open them and figure out where he was. A loud ringing in his ears was irritating, and then finding himself strapped to a gurney in a moving vehicle was even more annoying.
As consciousness fully arrived, he realized that he was in an ambulance, sirens blasting, and probably headed to the hospital. Ken saw a technician sitting beside him, adjusting an IV bag of normal saline. The tech noticed that Ken’s eyes were open and smiled. “Welcome back!”
Ken tried to answer him but found his mouth and nose covered by a clear plastic oxygen mask.
“Just a little O2 assist to get you back in shape. Your vitals are becoming solid and steady, and the EKG says you are not having a coronary event.”
Ken raised a single finger of his restrained hand and pointed at the mask.
A Final Broadside Page 18