“Send it to my phone.”
“What time’s the meeting?”
“Two. Meet me in my suite at noon—23B,” and Frances clicked off her phone.
Romano Goldstein stood up from his lotus meditation position and stretched his body in every direction. The house phone rang in the living room of his suite. It was still early, 7:00 a.m. Frances wanted to meet him in her room.
Romano entered Frances’ suite almost immediately. One of the waiters from the reception was standing in her living room talking to Frances.
“Romano, I believe you remember this gentleman from our reception yesterday,” Frances started.
“Yes, hello,” Romano said.
“Please, sit down,” Frances said. To the young waiter she said, “Be kind enough to tell us your background and how you were hired to assist in this meeting. It’s clear to me that you are trained in some other areas of expertise besides food service.”
“Sure,” said the waiter. “My name is Stephen Walters. I work for a security agency out of Arlington, Virginia. We specialize in personal security for VIPs, usually foreign nationals visiting the US, or US dignitaries in foreign countries. We also have security units that advise police and military forces in underdeveloped countries.”
“Education?” asked Frances.
Stephen went down the list, “Army Special Forces Operations, Command and General Staff Course, Bachelors in Engineering from University of Ohio, Masters in Organizational Leadership from Lewis University, and I have a doctorate in how-to-get-things-done from the school of hard knocks,” he finished with a slight humorless smile.
“Thanks,” said Frances. “And how did you get hired to be our caterer?”
“Our agency got a call from Cheron asking for four guys. I was just off a job in Kuwait, so I got the call. Me, Ralph, Jeff, and Don.”
“Stephen, thank you. Mr. Cheron will be leaving our organization today, so we need to make a few changes in your orders for this job. How much are we paying you?”
Romano was puzzled and more than a little shocked, but he hid his feelings and kept quiet. He knew he was being included in a plan that would have serious consequences.
“We’re getting six grand apiece for the three-day gig,” Stephen answered.
“Okay, I just upped it to eight thousand each. You will be taking your orders from me and Mr. Goldstein here, got it?”
“Loud and clear.”
“You will continue your cover jobs as caterers. There will be an incident at our fourteen-hundred hours session in the boardroom of this building. You will have to be available for immediate cleanup, understand?”
“Right. Large plastic bags, cleaning materials. Stretcher, ambulance. That sort of cleanup?”
“Very good, Stephen,” said Frances. “Thank you. We’ll see you at the meeting.”
“Good day, ma’am. Sir.” Stephen left the suite.
“What the devil’s going on?” asked an agitated Romano Goldstein.
“Romano, you know how our instruments are able to monitor telekinesis energy and information from distant sources?”
“Of course. So?”
“So, through a similar system—off line from the Directorate’s network in a dramatic fashion in front of all us directors. He plans to do so at our two o’clock board meeting. I need to stop him. I’m asking you for your assistance.”
“The vote,” Goldstein said, “back at our meeting on Akebe’s yacht. We were deadlocked awaiting your decision. You visited Andrew at the ops center, and you phoned in your vote. Which way did you vote, Frances?”
“I voted to keep Andrew in his position, not to kill him.”
Doctor Goldstein reacted to this information on two levels. Consciously, he came to a logical agreement with what she told him.
“All right, Frances,” he said. “So Akebe is acting contrary to the board’s direction, and only you and he know it. I can see the necessity of removing Akebe. And I must say I’m not surprised that he intends to murder Andrew after his series of failures.”
Subconsciously, Romano’s mind was racing through layers of his own traumas, sorting them out and organizing his emotions so as to stack them in such a way that would enable him to think and act courageously in this new situation.
“Give me a second here, Frances, to think this through. Is the coffee still hot?”
Romano made a pretense of thoughtful contemplation, pouring coffee, stirring in cream and sugar, walking to the balcony. All the time he was silently following the mental protocol he had created for himself and many of his patients. Over the years he reinforced his inner discipline, preventing himself from reacting to his emotions and instead arranging them into a pyramid so that only the most positive feelings would emerge at the top through the surface.
His brain raked up his terror as an infant in a dark crate with frightening noises pounding against the sides, his fear at being handed over to a strange Jewish family in a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, his isolation and dissociation as an orphan in a home with six siblings who belonged there, his desperate loneliness and hopelessness as the victim of schoolyard bullies and sexual predators, and finally his courage and discipline after escaping the neighborhood through his acceptance at Harvard University. The process lasted only seconds, and the emotions that emerged were anger, revenge, and a call to duty.
“Frances, you have teamed up with the right ally in your cause to overcome Akebe and eliminate him as the chairman. You have my complete support. What do you plan to do?”
Sandy opened Hank’s Ranger Handbook to page 3.01, titled, “Operations Order for a Patrol.” She checked the screen behind her where the projector displayed the operations order line-by-line. She looked out over the faces before her and she smiled the smile of Joan of Arc. She exuded confidence, honor, and victory.
“My dear family,” Sandy began her mission briefing, “we will prevail over the evil, inhuman enemy that would dare to come against America and Cielavista. God gave me this name for our defensive force: ‘Task Force Saber.’”
Sandy saw Gabriella’s eyes widen at the name. In her meditation that morning, Sandy had heard this title for the combat force that would evolve out of the family of people and animals at Cielavista. She and Gabriella had been preparing for this mission briefing since 3:00 a.m. out on the granite outcropping. They’d scanned the nation for potential mass murders and saw none. That signaled to them that the Directorate was consolidating their forces for one mission, and it was clear to them that Cielavista was the primary objective of that mission. After the two women monitored the Directorate’s on the supernatural screen in the sky over the ocean, the VOICE came through to Sandy.
At first Sandy thought it was a storm raking over the water churning up the surf, but there were no waves on the water, no wind in the air. It was His voice, the King. Sandy knew it was Him, the one John the apostle was trying to describe in the Book of Revelation in the New Testament. She remembered clearly now reading that description of His voice. “His voice like the sound of cascading waters.” That was it exactly, like roar and power she had felt standing under Niagara Falls.
“Sandy, do not be afraid. I am your shield. I will protect your family. My saber will destroy your enemy. Take courage. I am with you.”
Sandy was stunned, rigid as a statue. She found the strength to utter, “Nonina, did you hear that?”
“I heard nothing, dear,” Gabriella said. “Sandy, you have heard a message that was meant for you alone. You are being called to go where one cannot go, to see what one cannot see, to know what one cannot know and to be what one cannot be.”
Sandy understood. “Yes.”
In the war room, Sandy continued her operations order.
“The first element of information you will hear is about the nature of the enemy force. My grandmother will give that portion of the briefing.”
Gabriella took her place at the head of the table. “The name of our enemy is the Directorate,” Gabriella said.
“Let me describe them to you in as much detail as you need to know for this operation.
“The Directorate consists of a board of directors, six very wealthy, very powerful people who live under the delusion that they have a monopoly on true American patriotism. In their perverted view of nationalism, they think that the nation’s biggest problem is those of us who think for ourselves and do not fall in line with the mainstream of modern American culture.”
She paused to allow this monstrous statement to soak in.
“This board of directors has contrived a system of highly sophisticated devices that collects brain waves and analyzes them. With this system they can identify the thinkers from the sheep. Then they compile a list of thinkers, prioritize all the names, and systematically murder them.
“The way they carry out these murders is through a network of seers and operators. These people are organized into six squads located strategically throughout the country.”
Sandy was standing to the side of the briefing room watching the faces of the men and women who remained with the fighting force. She perceived no fear or anxiety in their eyes. Even on the faces of the young girls and boys, she saw a growing sense of purpose and resolve.
Gabriella continued, “The Directorate’s transmitting equipment uses satellite technology to send hypnoticlike radiation onto unsuspecting pawns who carry out their assassinations as directed. When they are confronted by law enforcement personnel, they either take their own lives or get killed in a gunfight.
“Every one of these pitiful patsies appears to have some insane agenda for their mass murder attacks. Additionally the Directorate manipulates the minds of the news media and they report the mass killings as the work of religious fanatics or deranged maniacs. That way, none of our law enforcement agencies make any connection between the murderers and the ultimate masterminds of these horrific attacks.
“All of the mass killings in America over the past three years have been the work of the Directorate. What the media has not reported are those incidents where the murderer has been prevented from carrying out his mission. I have been able to stop more than seventy-five percent of the mass murders.”
A hand went up in the middle of the room. “Yes, Sebastian,” Gabriella said to one of Carlos’s grandsons, a twenty-year-old carpenter.
“How do you stop them, Nonina?”
“Since I was a child, Sebastian, I have had these supernatural powers given to me by the Spirit. I see all kinds of human activity over a long range of distance when I stand out on the rock outcropping where I go to pray. Not only can I see things, I also have the power to exert forces onto peoples’ minds and bodies. With this power I have been able to save thousands of people from being killed. But this information comes in another section of Sandy’s briefing. I am concentrating on the enemy forces.”
“Can you give us an example, Nonina?” asked Sebastian.
“The Directorate has been trying to take out a Supreme Court justice and a conservative presidential candidate. I intervened with energy fields that disrupted the attackers and caused them to lose their way when they tried to assassinate these two essential Americans.”
“Thank you, Nonina,” said Sebastian.
“Currently, the Directorate operates in chaos because of all their recent failed attacks. Today they will hold a council of war that will divert all their assets from their primary missions of murdering thinkers to a concentrated ground attack on Cielavista.” She paused and looked over at Sandy to see if she wanted her to continue.
Sandy monitored the mood of the room. She was prepared to offer encouragement at this point if she thought she needed it. She perceived some concern in the eyes of some of the family, but no anxiety or agitation. She nodded at Gabriella to continue.
“I will now list our allies,” Gabriella said. “We have been assigned a platoon of angels from the throne room. They hover in the air overhead. Carlos, young Beto, myself, and the dog, Lucille, have the visionary power to see them, hear their voices, and talk to them. Five angels directly support our commander, Sandy. One protects and responds to Henry. The Master sent two on special assignment to the Directorate’s meeting in the Berkshires.
“Henry and Beto have relocated to Cape Neddick, Maine. I have established a decoy headquarters location there to confuse the enemy.”
At that, Sandy said, “What? What did you just say?” She approached Gabriella at the front of the briefing room under the screen.
“Yes, my love. Henry thinks he has abandoned us in a huff. In his mind that may be true, but I arranged for him go spend his vacation at Cape Neddick after I programmed an energy source there that duplicated the energy source here at Cielavista.”
“You should have told me, Nonina!”
“I just did, dear.” And the briefing room rippled with chuckles.
Sandy looked around at the soldiers in their seats. Her anger drained away.
“Proceed with your portion of the briefing,” she said.
Gabriella proceeded with a smile. “In order to complete the deception that our location had moved from here to Cape Neddick, we needed to have boots on the ground there. One of their seers observed Beto and Henry and he reported their presence to his higher headquarters. The ruse has convinced them that we now occupy Cape Neddick.
“However we cannot depend on that deception holding forever. Eventually they will discover that we still reside here at Cielavista. But they will spend valuable time and resources attacking our decoy location.
“We may have a spy in the enemy’s camp. Her name is Frances O’Donnelly. She has served on the executive board of the Directorate for many years. By using one of their former targets, Anna Stone, I have reprogramed Frances’ mind without her knowledge. She still thinks she is working for the Directorate, but if my efforts are successful, she will actually be working for us.
“That’s it for my part of this battle briefing. Warriors, know these two important truths: we are Task Force Saber, and in the words of the prophet, ‘no weapon formed against us will succeed.’” Gabriella took her seat.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“You doing all right, amigo?” Beto said, leaning back in the fishing chair on Water Walker. “I’m glad we’re not in a sailboat. There’s not a puff of breeze out here today.”
“Yes, I’m fine,” said Henry. “I got to feeling guilty using Tobias to scare up fish for us. Way too much work hauling in all those stripers anyway.”
Beto took his pipe and tobacco out of his pocket. He began meticulously packing the bowl. “Guilty?” he said, “You mean about telling Tobias to find fish for us?”
“You smoke a pipe, too? Like your Uncle Carlos?” Henry said. “Yeah, that. But more about taking off from Cielavista. The way I did it, I guess.”
“You mean taking off like a raging maniac?”
“What do you know about why I left?”
“Not sure, but that old lady told me to keep an eye on you and if you started packing I was supposed to go along with you,” Beto said through puffs on the stem of his pipe as he held his lighter over the packed tobacco.
“Not surprised; always ten steps ahead of everybody. Yeah, I have a problem living there. You can’t predict what’s going to happen from one day to the next, heck from one minute to the next. How’s a guy supposed to make plans? How can you get ready for the next day? I was boiling mad when I left. I had to get away. I packed in a fuming rage. The last thing she said was she could live without me.”
Henry leaned back in the captain’s chair and gazed at the sky, breathing in the sweet aroma of Beto’s pipe smoke.
“Beto, I’m not sure I want to go back to Sandy.”
Carlene led Firdos to the basement of the cottage.
“Set up these office partitions so each squad member has their own separate cubicle. None of you will make contact with any other member of my squad.”
After leading each of her eight soldiers separately to his cubicle and placing the one-page operations
order on their tables, she began her briefing.
“One of our directors has ordered this meeting. He will be connecting with us via the internet in a few moments.” Carlene checked her watch.
“Here’s where we are: seers one and two are working the same sector and they have developed a list of four targets. Seer three has no targets. Seer four has an attack plan for target number 0925, and is awaiting the order to execute. Green Arrow and Blue Wolf are prepared to complete that mission on order.
“Seer number five has been given a special recon mission,” Carlene said. When she paused to look over the SITREP she had sent to Andrew, Firdos flushed with pride, knowing he had the most important mission in Carlene’s squad.
“Listen carefully, people. Seer five is watching a target, code name FITO. That’s foxtrot, india, tango, oscar. It’s an acronym for ‘fly in the ointment.’ Too many missions have failed here in our sector and across the country. According to higher headquarters, this FITO keeps disrupting our operations.
“None of you soldiers hold a high enough security clearance to know the details of any operations except your own, but all of you have botched assignments. And in each case, no one has been able to explain the reason for these failures. So on one hand you may take some small comfort that our leaders are no longer placing blame on us. But do not get too comfortable.
“The objective of seer five’s reconnaissance is FITO. Their command post sits somewhere here in our area of operations.
“The director will be giving us our new mission briefing for Operation FITO. He will explain our coordinated attack on their base of operations. FITO must be eliminated before we can effectively proceed with our normal routine.
“The only scheduled operation prior to Operation FITO will be the elimination of target 0925.
“In three minutes you will give your undivided attention to the voice of our director over the speakers.”
Carlene adjusted the volume on the amplifier. She checked to ensure that each squad member was properly compartmentalized. A faint crackle of static came through the speakers.
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