The Fourth Day of November

by Mark Campbell

“Alistair dear, everyone has gone. Get some rest while Lee's sleeping.”

  “I'm fine, Lucy.” I lied.

  “No, you’re not. Go take a nap!” she snipped. “If my daughter awakes, I will be here.” Lucy sat on the settee next to me. “I sense you’re worried about Lee's health. She is going to be fine, just keep the faith. God is always there. Don’t stop believing. You’re a marvelous husband and a superb father.” Lucy embraced me.

  July 3, 2000

  Two weeks later, the doctor removed the rubber tubes from Lee’s armpit, and sutured her wound. She was expected to heal nicely. She just had 4-6 months of chemotherapy ahead of her. This was scheduled as a precaution. Cancer cells could return, causing further damage to other organs.

  2001

  Watching chemo take its effect on my wife angered me. But, I needed to stay calm and keep my sanity for my wife and our daughters. Lee slept, hours at a time. In do course, clumps of hair fell from her head, eventually, leaving my wife hairless. Regular cries of pain were experienced when Lee walked to and from the bathroom. Steadily, Lee's 115-pound frame shrank to a 93-pound skeleton of the woman I married.

  Day after day, my heart was sinking. Rage transformed my internal solace. In an outburst of fury mixed with tears, I hurled anything I could grab in the bathroom. A knock on the door, followed by the voice of Emma, reintroduced reality.

  “Dad, are you in there?”

  I felt like the Incredible Hulk, suddenly transforming back after metamorphosis. “Give me a sec. I will be there.” Glass and other objects lay on the floor around me. It would have to stay there for now. If Emma asked what happened, I would say I was cleaning up.

  “Hi, Emma. When did you get here?”

  “What was going on in there, dad?”

  “Cleaning, just cleaning.”

  “It sounded more like you were breaking things.”

  “I did. It can wait to be cleared up later.” I changed the subject. “Hey, what’s with the third degree, love? How are your grandparents?”

  “They’re fine. I'm more concerned about you and mum.”

  “Mum is in there. She’s asleep.” I motioned towards the bedroom.

  “How about we have a chat, dad, and a cuppa downstairs?” Emma suggested.

  “That sounds good.”

  ---

  “Dad, be honest with me. How are you doing?” Emma asked sipping from her mug.

  “I'm fine.”

  “I thought you might say that. This must be difficult for you, because it's difficult for me. Knowing mum is recovering from breast cancer…seeing your mother not able to move without crying in pain, there's nothing I wouldn’t do to change this.”

  “I keep saying again and again: is God testing my faith? God has given us so much. If all this were gone—the house and money— it wouldn’t matter, as long as you and your mother are still here. That’s all I care about.” My mind drifted.

  “Do you remember when we went on a camping trip, and it rained all week?” I changed the subject. “We couldn’t do any of the things we planned, so we packed up and headed back home. Once we got home, the sun came out. So, you and Ellen convinced your mother, Anne Marie and I to campout at home. So, we did and we had a smashing time!” I smiled.

  “I remember mum helping you pitch the tent because it fell down the first time.” Emma added.

  “That's not true. A gust of wind did that!” I laughed.

  “Dad, there was no wind. The sun was out. You still cannot admit to it after all these years. Emma chuckled. “Do I have to get the camcorder out?”

  “Hi, dad what are you and sis doing?” Ellen came in the door.

  “Hi, Ellen.” Emma motioned for her to come over to the table. “Dad, still thinks there was a gust of wind that blew the tent over when we were kids camping in the backyard.”

  “I remember that day. Ellen smiled. “It was funny!”

  Emma found the home video and popped it into the player.

  “Is there anymore tea, sis?” Ellen asked.

  “Yes, in the teapot, and biscuits are on the table.” Emma answered.

  “Okay, don’t start the tape without me. I could use a good laugh.” Ellen said as she headed in the kitchen.

  September 11, 2001

  Each day, Lee got stronger and was eating well. She still needed to hang loose, which wasn’t easy for my wife. She called Hyacinth over to work on ideas for the hospital in the comfort of our home, since Lee was unable to travel. Watching my wife actively take part in something that thrilled her was pleasing to me.

  Peter and Ronnie called early in the morning to give us a rundown of updates concerning the plans to start erecting the hospital. Everything was ahead of the timetable.

  Emma and Ellen readied themselves to catch the 10:00 am flight, posterior to London, leaving home at 7:57 am in the family limo. Lee and Hyacinth continued working. As I sat in my favorite chair watching the morning news, at precisely 8:45 am, breaking news interrupted the broadcast. It was reported that a Boeing 767 crashed into the World Trade Center’ north side. I stood up, stunned. Lee and Hyacinth inhaled in horror.

  Eighteen minutes later, a second Boeing 767 United Airlines flight 175 appeared in the sky, turning towards the World Trade Center, cutting into the south tower.

  For the first time since Pearl Harbor, innocent Americans were targeted. America was under attack!

  Suddenly, I remembered Emma and Ellen were on the way to the airport . “Lee, I have to get the girls!”

  Hyacinth offered to drive. I declined, urgently trying to reach the girls on my cellphone. The lines were busy. Someone had to stay with my wife. I kicked off my slippers, entering the garage where my collection of motorcycles was kept. I grabbed the keys to my yellow Triumph sports bike and slipped on my boots and matching helmet and jacket.

  Anne Marie frantically jumped in front of the powerful machine. “Where are you off to?”

  “I'm going to get the girls.” I yelled.

  “I’m coming.” Anne Marie insisted.

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  Okay, jump on the back.” I no longer wanted to argue.

  “I'm taking the other Triumph.” Anne Marie said.

  “Can you drive a motorbike?”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “You never told me that!”

  “There's a lot you don’t know about me.” Anne Marie insisted. “Where are the keys?” she quickly dressed in matching pink jacket and helmet. After handing Anne Marie the keys, she started the bike, taking off ahead of me.

  I eventually caught up with Anne Marie who was riding like a bat out of hell, as she turned onto the Northern State Parkway. We both opened up our throttles. Traffic came to a halt near the Southern State. There was no choice; we weaved in and out of cars, using the hard shoulder to pass other vehicles. Police gave chase, but the high speeding British bikes out ran the authorities. I watched in the mirror as the fading blue lights vanished. We reached speeds at over 90 mph.

  Anne Marie kept the lead. We finally stopped abruptly, when saw the limo. We pulled up alongside, signaling the driver to pull over.

  “Mum, dad what are you doing here?” Ellen asked.

  “You don’t know?” I asked.

  “Oh my god, it's mum isn’t it?” Emma shrieked.

  “No, America is under attack.” Emma and Ellen looked at my expressionless face.

  “Okay girls, we've got your helmets. Jump on the back.” Anne Marie hurried our interaction.

  “Dad, when did Anne Marie learn to ride?” Emma was stunned.

  “I don’t know. Ask her.”

  Emma and Ellen were just as shocked to see Ann Marie riding. Before heading back, I asked the family driver to return home, as well. As we sped off, once again, Anne Marie took the lead. We used a different route home, hoping not to get arrested on the way back for speeding. That was if they could catch us.

  Phone lines were still jammed. Trying to reach Peter and R
onnie was impossible at this point. It was reported that American Airlines flight 77 crashed into the Pentagon, the headquarters of the United States Department of Defense, leading to partial collapse of the western side. Another plane, United Airlines flight 93 targeted the United States Capitol in Washington DC. The fourth plane crashed in an open field in Pennsylvania. Two hundred twenty-seven civilians and 19 hijackers were aboard all four plans.

  ---

  Around midnight, a phone call from Peter and Ronnie put us at ease. Construction would be put on hold in Athens, Georgia. Flying or driving back to New York was out of the question, for now. Road blocks were in place and delays were at their worst. National Guards and state troopers searched every vehicle at checkpoints. AI employees were transported to the nearest hotel until it was safe to vacate Manhattan.

  September 18, 2001

  Days later, Peter and Ronnie returned home anxious to see family and friends. Special church services throughout the country were held to honor those lives cut short on September 11, 2001. We attended a local Roman Catholic church with family and friends, to show our respects.

  June 2002

  Our work was far from done. In late 2002, construction of the new hospital was delayed even further. Wrong shipments of materials held up the $75 million project for days. Given the circumstances, completion of the hospital ended on March 25, 2003.

  Prior to completion, we asked our investors to request that men and women affected by breast cancer take part in the opening day celebration. Surprisingly, a sea of people turned out to watch. This medical center and pharmaceutical division was designed to offer needy and impoverished individuals more reasonably priced medical bills and prescriptions.

  In 2005, our work distended even further with the creation of the Pink Book website, an inspirational online community created by Lee and myself. The site’s objective was to give breast cancer patients a place to interact. In addition, physicians could access a gateway to relay significant medical reports and release medical records, along with, up-to-date news facts and medical breakthroughs to clientele. Within a few months, Pink Book.com registered over 1.5 million users, and is still growing worldwide.

  August 2002

  I, among other shareholders of Salvation Hospital, would be victims of a $2 billion embezzlement scheme at the hands of a well-respected accounting firm. Had it not been for Hyacinth adeptness, this could have gone on for a number of years. Hyacinth is what one would call an egghead mastermind. Nothing slipped by her. Peter, Ronnie and I often called her Reassessment Burton. Hyacinth would laugh, assuring us we would thank her one day. Then that day came.

  Her industriousness, uncovered a large slice of AI and other shareholders currency vanishing in offshore accounts. Hyacinth called us into the office in the middle of the night, and suggested Lee tag along. It was unlike Hyacinth to deport herself in this manner. The four of us met in the lower parking area. We stepped into the elevator and went to the fifth floor. There we were met by a wide-eyed Hyacinth, holding a large British City football club mug.

  “Oh, you’re all here. Fantastic! Let’s get started.”

  I looked at my watch, then asked Hyacinth how long had she been at the office. “Do you have any idea what the time is? Why have you not gone home?”

  We knew Hyacinth had not left the building since she was still wearing a business suit worn erstwhile.

  “Give me a chance. Things will be brought to light. And the answer to your question, Alistair, yes I've been here since yesterday.”

  “Is she high?” Ronnie turned to us to inquire of Hyacinth’s odd behavior.

  “Yep, she's high alright from an overdose of caffeine.” Lee replicated.

  “Let’s go and see what’s so important that it comprises my wife’s observation.”

  Standing behind the large conference room table, Hyacinth passed around blue folders. She asked that we open our folders marked with each of our names.

  “These statements are from four years ago.” I commented.

  “Alistair, please bear with me.” Hyacinth politely hushed me. “Now go to the transactions from two weeks ago.”

  So, it's the same amount. We always have large checking amounts going in and out.” Peter replied.

  “See, this is where things get interesting.” Hyacinth started drinking more coffee. “Take another look.”

  We focused on the paper, unable to find anything erroneous. Lee, on the other hand, asked us to check our routing numbers from February 11th and then two weeks after. Lee drew her chair closer to Hyacinth, desperately writing down names and numbers. Then, she reached forward for a calculator. Without looking, Lee began to quickly tap in numbers. Both women shook their heads repeatedly.

  “Oh my god, we got it.” Lee and Hyacinth uncovered AI and other investor funds were being misused. A third party was helping themselves to large portions of the hospital funds. However, things were just heating up.

  “Lee, are you and Hyacinth going to inform us about what the two of you found?”

  “Yes honey, I will. This is going to be hard for everyone to digest.”

  Hyacinth cleared her throat then swigged back some more coffee. “Just like your wife said Alistair, this won’t be easy to digest. There are forces at work here. They stole large amounts of cash.”

  “What do you mean by stealing money? We keep an eye on AI money.”

  “We’re not talking about AI. This involves other companies.”

  “Oh my gosh, she's wasted!” I said aloud, making everyone laugh including Hyacinth.

  “I’m not. I just don’t drink coffee that often.”

  “Alistair honey, please listen. This is serious.”

  “I'm sorry honey, but Hyacinth is wasted from drinking coffee. That’s the first time I’ve ever seen anybody react that way.”

  “Now, once again, our dosh is in overseas accounts.” Hyacinth continued.

  “Lets get the police involved.” Peter replied picking up the phone.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Peter.” Hyacinth gestured for him to put down his cell phone.

  “When the word forces is used, we mean forces. I thought that might keep you quiet at first because the names seem normal, and so do the banking transaction. But when one looks closely, the facts talk to you in a way that’s sinister. Look at the names of visitors. Erase all numeric values with the exception of 3, 12 and19. Notice anything strange?”

  Peter mentioned the only thing he and I could point out. There was a blatant use of first and last names of presidents. The names Lincoln, John and Reagan were on the statement. “If you put the names together, we have Abraham Lincoln, John F. Kennedy and Ronald Reagan.”

  “This means nothing; they’re just names.” I backed Peter.

  “No, No.” Hyacinth shook her head. “Lee would you please educate these young minds?”

  Lee began writing down numbers the1861-1865, 1961-1963, 1981-1989. They all seemed irrelevant. “These figures make no sense to you, right?”

  Peter, Ronnie and I nodded.

  “Wrong, these figures are without a doubt noteworthy. When you add then subtract, these numbers signify the start of each president’s reign, and the end of their term. Are you with me so far?”

  The three of us were starting to see some kind of pattern.

  “Right here is when things get a little tricky. Add Reagan’s year when he left office, and then when he died.”

  Each of us jotted down Abraham Lincoln’s death 1865 with Reagan’s death 2004.

  “Subtract 1865 from 2004. That equals 139. Now, remember each term served by each former president. The president with the least amount of time served was Kennedy. So, subtract two from 2004. This equals 2002. Now subtract 139 from 2002. This equals1863.” Lee continued.

  “History tells us that the New York draft riot transpired in 1863. Anyone who knows black history will surely remember the draft riot quickly turned into a race riot. When we add this into the misappropriation of fu
nds, we have a terrorist threat on our hands. This could ultimately motivate something rather suborn to say the least. Furthermore, in case none of you noticed, the reason why they chose these president’s names…”

  I interjected, filling in the blanks for my wife. “All three have been assassinated. If we rule out Reagan, who almost died from an assassins bullet, but instead passed of natural causes. Also, the year he passed on played a key part in uncovering the plot.” I finished. “Honey, this is altogether against what we stand for! How could any of us have been so blind?”