Babylon Prophecy

by Sean Salazar

  “Yes, I believe they are,” Al answered. He was about to continue when the president jumped in, “I believe Mr. Robek answered the questions that you wanted to know and yes, the two explosions are connected. At this moment the entire region is being re-analyzed for more hidden complexes or bombs under D.C., and you will all be given a complete update the instant they finish.”

  “Good save, Mr. President,” Al thought.

  At that moment, Captain McCoumb entered the room and handed the president a note. Most of the chatter died down as Burkholder read it. He looked up and announced, “According to this, there is a low level of radiation below where the bomb detonated. Not too high but it could have been much worse.” He glanced at Al, “Thank you again for discovering it.”

  “It was an atomic bomb?” the older woman on the monitor asked.

  “Most likely,” Al said. turning towards the screen. “We know that the bomb that exploded in Lebanon definitely was an atomic bomb and this one was much larger.”

  “Was it an old Russian bomb?” General Holland asked.

  “I would say, no,” Al replied. “Unfortunately, the head technician that was taking it apart was killed in the explosion.”

  The senator from California spoke up again, angrily, “How in the hell did the bomb get there right under our noses, under the White House of all places?”

  The president answered, raising his voice, “At this time, and let me make this clear, all we know for sure is that if Agent Robek had not found it, we might not have a nation’s capital right now, nor be having this meeting.”

  General Burke leaned in, breaking his silence. He glanced at everyone sitting at the table, with his eyes settling on Senator Carlyle. “Rumors spread quickly, and for the record please do not spread rumors or speculation from this meeting until we confirm what is going on.”

  “Do we even know who put it there?” Senator Carlyle asked.

  Ms. Churchill interjected, “No.”

  “So, in other words, we have nothing,” the senator stated.

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Churchill answered, returning the senator’s stare.

  “Once we figure this out,” the president said, “I am going to set an all-time record for the most intense ass-kicking ever, make no mistake about it.”

  Another eruption of questions arose and the president began answering them, going back and forth across the table.

  Al thought it was probably a good time to lie but Ms. Churchill was right; there were no suspects at all unless they hauled in the Masonic lodge and the Vatican for questioning. Of course that would never happen. Or would it? He decided to remain quiet while everyone was taking turns, seeking answers to their many questions.

  Ms. Churchill gently nudged him and whispered, “We can go now.”

  He turned and followed her, quietly commenting sarcastically, “The show is over.”

  “Yes, for now,” she said, leading him out into the next space. They walked past all the military personnel and she continued, “This crisis is now in the public view for all to see and the politicians have to say something, so the president is being drilled and it’s only going to get worse.”

  “Still...” Al gave her a disapproving glare. “I am still not clear about what is going on.”

  She pushed open the second door leading towards the main cabin. She pulled out a small envelope from her jacket pocket and handed it to him. “A lot of people saw what just exploded over Washington and it’s on every newscast in the country, so these same people are counting on you to solve this crisis.”

  Al stopped on the first metal step and turned around, “I honestly don’t know if I can.”

  “We all have faith in you.”

  Al just shook his head.

  “And your friend Betty from British Intelligence sent me a message. She hinted that you would understand, and said also a piece of this puzzle has been solved.”

  “She said that?” Al asked.

  “Yes, she did,” she said, eyeing the envelope. “It’s right there.”

  “Does anybody else know about this?” Al gripped the envelope.

  “Only General Burke, me, and the president,” she answered with a wink.

  Al nodded. “Good, so I have three requests.”

  “Yes?”

  “First, we have to track down a message Jess Contreras got right before she shot all of us in Lebanon. I’m not sure what systems the CIA is using now, but try to track down where it originated.”

  “That we can do.”

  “Next, the chamber under the White House is full of clues that Ed Collins needs. Give him full access and keep out other investigators until he is done. Trust me, he knows what he is doing, and looking for. And, third, whatever you guys do,” Al said sincerely, “make sure those politicians back there don’t use my name or any of my team’s names in reports to the media.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that.” She followed him out of the plane and down the steps. Two security men immediately took up positions around her when she reached the bottom. Al noticed Captain McCoumb waiting for him. Ms. Churchill grabbed Al’s hand, squeezed it tightly, and shook it.

  “Captain McCoumb has your orders, so stay close. We will debrief shortly; and give that letter to Ed Collins.”

  She then followed her security men into a black SUV and sped off.

  Chapter Four

  Al stepped over to Captain McCoumb and asked, “What now?”

  “This way,” he said. As soon as they were a good distance from the plane, Al saw the politicians and General Burke charging down the steps and when the last person hit the ground, the door closed, stairs pulled back, and the 737’s engines increased power. Then, Al noticed the real Air Force One was taking off. “They’re outta here,” he said.

  McCoumb began a slow jog in the direction of the helicopter, “Yeah, the Pres is using a decoy aircraft.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Al said, following close behind.

  McCoumb continued, “The big 747 can be easily shot down with ground or space-based lasers so they don’t take any chances.”

  Al followed him back to the helicopter that still had its engines turning and the door open. McCoumb stopped to let him enter and pointed to a towel and smiled, “You might need that to freshen up a bit.”

  “Got it,” Al said, climbing back aboard the helicopter. “Ms. Churchill told me that you have orders for me.”

  “You’re doing it now.”

  “Okay, how do I get ahold of you?” Al asked, grabbing the towel.

  “I’ll get ahold of you later from the Comm Center. I have a feeling things are going to get a little crazy from now on,” he said, and then slid the door closed. The engines increased power immediately and the helicopter lifted off and headed back in the direction of the White House.

  As they briefly flew over the city, Al peered out the window and scanned the area. He was convinced that Jess had to be nearby and probably observing the whole scene, but where? She had to be the one under the White House lawn shooting at him, so she still had to be nearby. Suddenly, the chopper jerked upward, breaking his thoughts. He felt it change direction and increase power. Al turned to the pilot and yelled over the engine noise, “Hey, where we going?”

  The pilot turned his head and responded, “Langley Air Force Base.”

  “Oh.” Al turned back around. He began wiping the dried and chunky debris and dirt off his face and arms. As he did, he wondered what Churchill meant when she said a piece of the puzzle had been solved. He figured he was just going to find out because making a detour was not part of the plan.

  He lost track of time but noticed the pilot was soon decreasing power and dropping in altitude towards Langley. The helicopter touched down and Al slid the door open and jumped out. Two security men were waiting with their jackets and ties flapping in the wind. One of them yelled over the engines, “Follow us, sir.”

  Al followed the two men moving swiftly to a medium-size aircra
ft hangar. They opened a door and motioned for him to enter. He walked in and a man in a Russian military uniform handed him a flight suit designed for high G’s.

  “What’s this for?” Al asked as he grabbed it.

  “Just put the damn thing on,” Vance said from the corner of the room.

  Al turned to see him and saw that he was talking on his cell. He appeared to be right in the middle of yelling at someone.

  “I assure you,” Vance said loudly, “that we need shooters on every roof for a mile around the White House, damn it.” He hung up, smiled with his toothy grin and asked, “Okay, so what’s the official presidential scoop?”

  “Who the hell knows,” Al said, slipping his right leg into the flight suit. “Where’s Ed and Natalie?”

  “Ed’s on his way here.”

  “And what are you doing here?” Al inquired, slipping in his other leg.

  “Helping save your sorry ass as usual, but before that I was doing something important like directing nuclear alert teams running around Washington, D.C. looking for more bombs.”

  “They’re not going to find any,” Al said.

  “Probably not,” Vance said and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped the top of the pack until one popped up. He reached up and with his lips pulled one out and lit it. After a long drag he asked, “So, the President didn’t have anything to say?”

  “No, not really.” Al pulled the suit up to his chest, pushing his arms in. “It’s all just a gigantic cover-up operation now; nothing but a bunch of politicians and military brass yelling at each other.”

  “And the president?”

  “Yelling at him, too.”

  “Oh,” Vance said as he exhaled. “Your assessment?”

  “They don’t know what’s going on,” Al added, then asked, “What about the bomb?”

  “Not my department,” said Vance. “I just know the president’s men are working on it. Most of the intelligent people are under orders to wait patiently until Ed Collins is done with his once-over and examination of the cavern. What’s bothering me,” he continued, “is what the bomb technician said before having it lifted out of the hole.”

  “Like when he said the bomb is not from here.”

  Vance paused a second, “What he said was one of those random, strange-like things that have a nasty tendency to shock you.” He took a long drag again and exhaled. “What do you think he meant by that?”

  “You do catch on quickly,” Al said mockingly.

  “Yeah,” Vance said, tapping his cigarette on the table. He watched the ashes hit the ground. “If it’s not from here, then where is it from—the moon?” He took another drag and exhaled a smoke trail straight up. “I think it’s bullshit.”

  Al zipped the suit up to his neck. “Would you mind telling me what is going on?”

  Vance laughed, “Oh, you don’t know?”

  “Why would I ask?”

  Vance stepped to the opposite door and opened it. “Take a look.”

  Through the open door, Al could see what looked like the side of a plane in the distance. He stepped to the door, looking at it more closely, and uttered, “Holy shit.”

  Vance stepped out behind him into the sun. “That, my friend, is a retrofitted MIG-31 fighter interceptor. Isn’t she beautiful?”

  “Hm-m. I’ve seen pictures but never one in person.”

  Vance pointed with his lit cigarette. “It’s an upgrade of the fastest fighter interceptor ever made. Those twin after-burning turbofan engines can get you to the center of the Earth in fifteen minutes.”

  “Or to hell and back,” Al added.

  “It reminds me of an old Sixties muscle car. Unfortunately, nowadays it’s just a global taxi when you need to get somewhere in a hurry.”

  “And,” Al asked, “where is somewhere?”

  “Don’t know yet.”

  “What?”

  One of the ground crew walked over and handed Al a black unmarked flight helmet. He slipped it over his head and asked, “So,” Al checked his watch, “what exactly am I going to be doing in this unknown destination in fifteen minutes?”

  At that moment, Al heard Ed’s British accent from behind him. He turned around as he was stepping through the hangar door.

  “Betty came out of hiding,” Ed said with pride. “She found Alex Pike, possibly alive.”

  That statement surprised Al. “Alive?”

  “We found him,” Ed continued.

  Al tightened his helmet strap. He was skeptical. “Did the message say he was actually alive?”

  “Not exactly,” Ed replied. “What she sent me was an apparently recent communication referencing him. And, considering his body was never found when the three of us were shot, I am sending you to go rescue him.”

  “So all three of us survived her shooting rampage? That doesn’t add up. I saw Jess shoot Alex in the chest. She next shot you, then me.”

  “Lucky bastards,” Vance said.

  “Maybe she wasn’t trying to kill us,” Al said.

  “I agree with your friend here,” Ed said. “We were lucky.”

  Al finished strapping his helmet on. “Okay, what are the details about Alex?”

  “We don’t know yet. Betty only sent the message with a general location and the CIA is working on specifics.” That reminded Al of the letter. He pulled it out. “Ms. Churchill asked me to give this to you.”

  Ed grabbed the envelope, quickly tore it open, and started unfolding the piece of paper inside. “By the way,” he said, “I sent Natalie to investigate the Washington Monument to see if we missed anything.”

  Vance laughed, “Your new girlfriend.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” Al responded, tightening up the harness.

  “Well, if you don’t like her...” Vance added.

  “I didn’t say that, but I did see her first.”

  “Uh-huh,” Vance said, tossing his cigarette on the ground, “but it looks like you’re outta here and I may be alone with her for a while.” One of the crew began helping Al into the flight harness when he asked, irritated, “Okay, where am I going exactly?” Ed looked up from reading the letter, “Spain is your destination.” Al glanced at Vance and said in a mocking tone, “So hell is in Spain?” Vance shrugged, stubbing his cigarette out with his shoe, “I’m just the message boy.”

  Ed put his hand on Al’s shoulder. “Betty found him and he is most likely being interrogated as we were, but we must be extremely cautious about revealing our plans because there are spies among us.”

  “I painfully get that,” Al answered. Ed continued reading the letter. “A CIA team has been assembled and will meet with you when you land and provide more details.”

  “I still find it hard to believe he’s alive.”

  “If possible, we need you to apprehend the person interrogating him,” Ed said. Vance laughed. “Yeah, right.”

  “I’ll try, but no promises.”

  “I understand,” Ed said, “just bring back my friend. I will speak to the CIA director myself and explain what is going on, but you needn’t worry about that.”

  Al squared himself with the ground crewman, allowing him to finish strapping on the complex harness. “Any word when you will be allowed back into the hole under the White House lawn? I have a feeling we missed something.”

  “I’ll be going back in shortly to do a thorough investigation,” Ed answered. He then walked over to the sleek MIG-31 and climbed the small ladder next to the open cockpit. He spoke a few words to the pilot and handed him the letter and the pilot answered with thumbs up.

  Vance leaned in and said in a low tone, “I bet you fifty bucks that you either kill or lose the bastard.”

  “C’mon darling, you have no faith in me?”

  “Uh, killing yes, capture no.”

  Al watched Ed return from conversing with the pilot. “What are the odds of Alex Pike being alive?”

  “I don’t know.” said Vance.

  “If he really did survive,�
�� Al continued, “then that would mean that all three of us survived the shooting on the plane in Baalbek, Lebanon. I was lucky when the bullet deflected off a piece of metal in my pocket, but Ed and Alex were shot clean through.”

  He watched Ed scale back down the ladder and wave him over. “And to top it off, Ed was shot in the gut by a large-caliber round hours before he was shot on the plane.”

  Al and Vance began walking towards the fighter plane. Vance commented, “Ed Collins is one tough mother.”

  “Our Russian friend,” Ed said, “will take care of you from here, so hurry back and return Alex safely.”

  “Just racking up my frequent flyer miles as usual,” Al answered, climbing into the back seat behind the pilot. The crewman strapped him in and Al gave Ed and Vance a thumbs-up.”

  “I’ll give Natalie a hug for you,” Vance yelled, flashing a thumbs up.

  Al flipped him off.

  Ed waved back and they both re-entered the hangar just as it began to rain.

  The glass canopy closed tight and the powerful engines fired up. After a few minutes, the MIG-31 pilot accelerated forward and began taxing towards the runway. Normally planes he had been in would stop and go a few times before entering the main runway but this pilot intended to take off immediately. As soon as they made a sharp left turn, aiming the pointed nose down the runway, Al felt the pressure of his body being sucked back into the seat as the massive twin engines kicked into full power. This was his first time in a fighter plane and the pilot was not holding back on the juice. The plane lifted off, angled upwards, and before he knew it he could see stars in the middle of the day and the roundness of the earth.

  Chapter Five

  The Mediterranean

  The cold air whipped at her hair as Betty gazed out into the water over the bow of the ship. She leaned against the railing and gripped her small suitcase believing they would not find her out here but she knew they really could. The only thing positive was that there were no trees or buildings nearby for snipers to hunt for her, which for now was a good thing and helped ease her exhausted nerves.

  She watched the sea water go by for a few minutes and then turned around and let her back press against the railing. She was certain that no one had followed her to the boat dock or paid any particular attention when she boarded. She turned her head to see the island structure of the small transport ferry. Two people were behind the window busy driving the ship. Her eyes followed upward to the top of the structure where antennae and other devices were attached. One flat, rectangular piece was rotating in a circle. Perhaps a sniper could be up there, maybe hiding behind that turning contraption with his sights on her, waiting for the perfect kill shot. She turned back around and gazed into the water. I’m going to drive myself insane worrying about like this.