The Countdown Begins

by Patrick Higgins

  Charles nodded yes.

  Without saying another word, Rice got out of the vehicle and, using a pocket knife, slashed two of the car tires. Sorry for this, Lord.

  Charles and Tamika watched in near-disbelief but didn’t ask any questions.

  Calloway craned his neck back, “Don’t worry, Tamika. He’s a good man. I’m sure there’s a good reason for all this.”

  Tamika didn’t reply. What could she possibly say?

  Rice got back in the van and they drove across the street to an adjoining hotel and parked.

  After a moment of uneasy silence, Rice eyeballed Charles again, “Now go back to the hotel and tell ’em someone slashed your tires while you were checking in. Then call the rental company and tell ’em what happened. Tell ’em you’re late for a meeting and you can’t wait around. Tell ’em you’ll leave the car keys at the front desk and that you won’t be needing the car anymore. After they fix the tires, they can take the car back. Insurance will cover the damage. When the rental car company inquires, they’ll see you’re staying there. Only you won’t be!”

  “But why do all this?”

  “The fact that your first name’s Charles and you rented the car at an airport in New York City might cause authorities to want to make further inquiries. If so, you won’t be at the hotel, right?”

  Calloway shifted in his seat. “Yeah, but why four days?”

  “I’ll explain the rest later. Now hurry!”

  Without saying another word, Calloway jumped out of the van.

  Rice rolled down the passenger front window. “Be creative coming back.”

  “Check!” Calloway crossed the street and picked up the pace.

  Tamika wanted to strike up a conversation with Braxton, but he clearly wasn’t in the mood for idle talk. She couldn’t help but be impressed by the way he took charge of the situation without even breaking a sweat.

  The reason Rice was so cranky was that he, too, was starved for sleep after driving straight through the night, just like Charles and Tamika had done.

  Rice had just returned to Tennessee after a two-day trip, when he received a desperate text message from Brian Mulrooney with the news.

  Rice replied: Are you serious? Man, oh man! Not good!!! See you in the morning. Don’t reply back!

  Rice showered and, though totally sleep-deprived, left the cabin in Tennessee and drove all night to Michigan. True to his word, he was at Mulrooney’s apartment at six a.m. He sent another text message: I’m out front of your apartment. Hurry!

  Mulrooney got dressed and ran down the stairs as quickly as he could. He climbed inside the white van. “Good morning, brother,” Brian had said.

  Rice didn’t reply. He drove off, totally stone-faced much like now. That was only their second-time meeting in person and Brian sensed Braxton already wanted to strangle him.

  When the two men arrived at Jacquelyn’s house, Rice managed to take a two-hour nap. Other than that, he kept to himself, replying to secure emails and text messages, and frequently staring out the front window, deep in thought, waiting for Charles and Tamika to arrive in Michigan.

  Calloway climbed back inside the van, breaking Rice from his reverie. “Rental car company will be here in an hour.”

  Without saying a word, Rice put the car in drive and they left at once for Jacquelyn Swindell’s house, in total silence. Upon arriving, Rice remotely opened the garage door.

  The three hurried inside the house starved for sleep. Tamika removed her bandanna and baseball cap, and let her face and scalp breathe.

  “Whoa! You cut off your hair!” Brian was astonished.

  Tamika rubbed her scalp and nodded yes. There was sadness in her eyes. Her hairstyle had always accentuated her spunky personality. Now it was gone. Everything was gone. Even fully dressed, Tamika Moseley felt completely naked.

  “I’d like you to meet Jacquelyn.”

  “Nice to finally meet you, Jacquelyn.”

  The two women hugged. Jacquelyn was happy to finally meet Tamika, but you’d never know it by looking in her eyes. She looked nothing like a radiant bride-to-be.

  Tamika was consumed by guilt. This was all her fault. She started weeping uncontrollably. “Sorry for causing so much trouble on your wedding week.”

  Brian chimed in, “It’s not your fault, Tamika. I should have been more careful.”

  “You got that right, Brian. It’s your fault...” said Braxton Rice, with a hint of anger in his voice. “Do you realize the potential danger your phone call may have on us?”

  “You’re right. I need to be more careful...”

  Rice shook his head. “And to think you’ll be in charge of the first safe house! You should have thought this through, man, especially knowin’ the real estate agent knows your name. Both of you, in fact.”

  Rice had held his tongue all day waiting for Charles and Tamika to arrive, so everyone could hear the same message from the same source at the same time. As chief of security, the onus fell on Rice to protect the Movement to the best of his ability. If I can’t protect this small number of people, how can I possibly provide security for ETSM members worldwide?

  Brian looked down at his feet. “It won’t happen again, Braxton.”

  Rice sighed, then toned it down a few notches. “Sorry for my outburst. I know you’re getting married tomorrow. It was an honest mistake. What you did for Tamika was noble. But even noble acts of kindness need serious planning these days.”

  Looking at Jacquelyn, Rice said, “You may not be linked to Tamika yet but, by marrying Brian, soon you will be. You both need to be more careful in the future.”

  Jacquelyn took a moment to clear her throat. “Yes, sir. Won’t happen again.”

  “It better not. If a simple unsecured phone call can lead to all this, it won’t take much for something very serious to happen. What has me most upset is the timing of it all.”

  Rice handed wrapped boxes to Brian and Jacquelyn.

  Brian gave Braxton a sideways look, “What’s this?”

  “Wedding gifts, compliments of the ETSM. Go on, open them.”

  Brian and Jacquelyn did as they were told but without the usual excitement newlyweds displayed when opening wedding gifts.

  Before they could inquire, Rice said, “They’re Satphones given to us from the person we met in D.C. a few weeks ago.” With Tamika present, Rice didn’t mention President Danforth by name. “They’re unregistered, untraceable, and each call made comes up as ‘restricted’. The phones are swept each day for bugs to ensure against eavesdropping or counter-espionage. All text and voice messages are deleted with each new sweep. One day later and your call would’ve been untraceable.”

  Mulrooney once again lowered his head in shame.

  Rice reiterated, “Like I said, it’s all about timing...”

  Jacquelyn gulped hard, realizing the potential danger she may have brought upon the ETSM by telling her parents she was relocating to Pennsylvania. Would their real estate agent, Rhonda Kimmel, someday lead authorities to the property? She prayed not.

  “Is your apartment empty of your things?” Rice said to Mulrooney.

  “Pretty much, but I have a friend staying there.”

  “I know. Tom Dunleavey, right?”

  Brian nodded yes. There was no need to ask how he knew.

  “He’s coming to the wedding, right?”

  Brian nodded yes again. “I’ve asked him to be one of my groomsmen.”

  “Might be time for him to move out. And kiss goodbye whatever else is still there, furniture and the like.”

  “Most of my things are here at Jacquelyn’s.”

  “Good, because you can’t go back there. Too risky. If I understand the situation clearly, the only thing we still got going for us is the cops don’t know Jacquelyn’s last name. Even your buddy in New York with the Jewish delis doesn’t know.”

  Rice shifted his attention to Charles, “Far as I can tell, they don’t know your last name either. Least for now. The reas
on I told you to book the hotel room for four days is that Brian told me he plans to leave Michigan four days from now. If they connect the two of you, which, at some point they will, they’ll stake out a hotel you’ll never go back to, one that’s an hour away from the church.”

  Charles nodded. “Good thinking.”

  Brian jumped in, “My parents know Jacquelyn’s last name.”

  “Let’s just pray your folks don’t hear about all this nonsense until after the wedding.” Rice shook his head. “Suddenly your big day’s not as problem free as we had thought. I mean, what assurance do we have that law enforcement won’t show up tomorrow? If they do, how can I possibly protect you both?”

  Jacquelyn sighed. The thought of police disrupting her wedding and taking Brian and Tamika into custody, and perhaps even Charles, frightened her to no end.

  Without even asking Jacquelyn, Rice made a command decision. “We all stay here tonight. Call Pastor Jim and bring him up to speed. Then call Tom Dunleavey and tell him to pack his things and come here until we decide where to go from here.”

  Brian reached for his cell phone.

  Rice grabbed his arm. “Use my phone until your new phone’s fully charged. It’s secure. Your phone’s the reason we’re in this mess in the first place!”

  “Oh yeah. Sorry again...” Mulrooney said sheepishly.

  Braxton Rice could only shake his head. Amateurs!

  Brian called Tom Dunleavey. Given his situation, Brian wasn’t surprised his house guest didn’t answer the phone. All his calls were screened. “Brother Tom, it’s Brian. Call me back as soon as you get this message. Call this number. It’s very important.”

  It didn’t take long for Tom to call back. “Hey, Brian, what’s wrong?”

  “Sorry to change our plans for tonight, but I’m afraid I won’t be home.”

  “What a shame. I was really looking forward to our last night together.”

  “Me too, but it seems I’ve spent my last night at the apartment. I recommend you don’t sleep there, either. In fact, I must insist that you leave. If police come knocking on the door, they might ask to see your ID. Not good, if you know what I mean!”

  Police? Tom Dunleavey felt his pulse race. “What’s going on, Brian?”

  “Not on the phone. But suffice it to say my situation’s starting to mirror yours.” Mulrooney sighed. “Could you pack a few things I’ll need from the apartment, including my suit for tomorrow? It’s already laid out on my bed.”

  “Of course.”

  “This may be the only chance I have to get my things from the apartment, so you may need to make a few trips to the car.”

  “I’ll do what I can, Brian.” Tom Dunleavey grimaced. He envisioned himself lumbering up and down three flights of steps carrying many things, sweating like a long-distance runner after a ten-mile run. His lower back hurt just thinking about it.

  “I would do it myself, but it would be too risky.”

  “It’s okay, Brian, I’ll manage.”

  “I really appreciate it, brother. I’ll email you with the things I need and the address here. Everything will be explained when you get here.”

  Tom had a thought. “Since we’re all going to be in Sterling Heights tomorrow, would it be okay if I brought your things there instead? I think this is answered prayer. Perhaps it’s time for me to join my flock there. As you know, I already have a place to stay.”

  Brian eyeballed Braxton Rice who was listening.

  “Even better,” Rice whispered, realizing Tom Dunleavey might be a good man to have around to do favors in the coming days.

  Brian said, “Sounds like a plan, brother Tom. Like you said, we’re all gonna be there anyway, right?”

  “So, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

  “Lord willing. Expect a text message soon. And be extremely vigilant.”

  “I will.”

  The call ended. Tom Dunleavey’s heart sank deep in his chest. If only he knew his own situation, dire as it was, paled in comparison to what Brian Mulrooney would face in the coming days, perhaps his old heart would simply give out on him...

  31

  THE FOLLOWING DAY

  GLASS-ENCASED CANDLES WERE perched atop six-foot high white wooden candle holders. They lined the aisle-way leading to the altar at Southeast Michigan Evangelical Church. All were adorned with fresh-cut flowers plucked from the gardens of some church members and adorned with white ribbons.

  Braxton Rice and his three top associates were put in charge of security. Since no invitations were mailed out, Rice requested a list with the names of all invitees on it. Not only was everyone asked to arrive two hours early, they had to show photo identification to his three associates and reveal the secret code that was texted to them, before entering the church. It took just under two hours, but the 800 invited guests were finally cleared through.

  Now that Rice had a list of the names of most church members, the vetting process could begin with them.

  The four ETSM security men would remain outside the church during the ceremony, guarding the outside perimeter and praying that authorities wouldn’t show up at some point.

  Now just minutes away from starting, every pew in the sanctuary was full, except for the front rows, which were reserved for family members only.

  On the bride’s side, George and Sheila Legler sat alone. They strongly urged friends and family members not to attend, which only made them look even more out of place, in an otherwise jammed packed church.

  Both were visibly uncomfortable and couldn’t wait for the shenanigans to end, so they could go home and do their best to forget the whole thing. What made this already bizarre day even more bizarre for George and Sheila Legler was that they didn’t know a single person in their daughter’s bridal party.

  The front row on the groom’s side bore a similar resemblance. Aside from Chelsea, who was asked to be one of the four bridesmaids, Dick and Sarah Mulrooney knew no one else. Much like the Leglers, they sat alone.

  For the first time since the disappearances, Sarah dyed her hair for the wedding. She looked infinitely better than when Brian last saw her in New York. She looked almost back to normal, in fact.

  The same couldn’t be said for Dick Mulrooney. The expression on his face very much resembled George Legler’s.

  As it was, this was the first time Dick had seen his son since Brian shared his dream about the Catholic church a few months back. It was a fiery phone conversation to say the least.

  At least Chelsea seemed happy for her older brother. Even though he’d caused so much trouble on the home front, and nearly destroyed the family in the process, she was honored to be part of the wedding party.

  Charles Calloway stood next to the groom, honored to be Brian’s best man. Three groomsmen stood next to Calloway: Clayton Holmes, Travis Hartings and Tom Dunleavey. All four wore black tuxedos adorned with lavender bow ties.

  Craig Rubin was invited to be one of Brian’s three groomsmen. Mindful that Brian was harboring Tamika Moseley, he declined. Refused was more like it. But instead of calling Brian, Craig sent a text message to Sarah Mulrooney stating his unwillingness to attend her son’s wedding. Thankfully, he left it at that, without mentioning Tamika Moseley.

  When Sarah forwarded the text message to her son, Brian wasn’t the least bit surprised. He hadn’t heard a word from Craig in many months. Even had he attended, Charles Calloway was still Brian’s only choice as best man. Tom Dunleavey stood in Craig Rubin’s absence.

  Everyone stood when the organist, along with a quartet of violins started playing, “Mendelssohn’s Wedding March”. All eyes were glued on Jacquelyn Swindell, as she slowly but steadily inched her way to her awaiting groom. On the surface, it looked like a normal wedding, but there was an uneasy spirit inside the church that most clearly felt.

  What didn’t go unnoticed by anyone was that Jacquelyn’s father wasn’t by her side as she made her way to the altar. George Legler flat-out refused to give his daughter away to Br
ian Mulrooney. As far as he was concerned, Jacquelyn was lucky he came at all! Marrying Brian was the ultimate sign of disrespect to his late son-in-law.

  Tom Swindell was a good man, a responsible man. In George’s not-so-humble opinion, Brian Mulrooney wasn’t even close to being in the same league as Tom!

  Seated next to her husband, Sheila Legler was thinking similar thoughts. She couldn’t comprehend how her own daughter could be getting married so quickly.

  Only seven months had passed since Tom tragically perished. This wasn’t the normal behavior of a grieving woman on the verge of turning 30, but of an 18-year-old teenager.

  Hadn’t they already endured enough heartache and tragedy? Now this slap in the face from their only daughter?

  In the end, the only reason the Leglers finally decided to come was that both feared it might be the last time they would see their troubled daughter again.

  Jacquelyn sensed what they were thinking. But after shedding buckets full of tears over her disintegrating relationship with her parents, the bride-to-be finally came to accept it all for what it was: spiritual warfare, plain and simple! But nothing would stop her from becoming Mrs. Jacquelyn Mulrooney.

  Even so, to keep from completely losing it, Brian and Jacquelyn both agreed to block everyone and everything out and lock eyes on each other—from start to finish—as they said their “I do’s”.

  Watching his radiant bride approaching, Mulrooney didn’t need any such agreement; not even someone pouring acid in his eyes could pry them away from her. Jacquelyn looked breathtakingly beautiful in a gown designed by someone at church. Brian did his best to compose himself but failed miserably. Her cobalt blue eyes alone stopped his breath in his throat. He became teary-eyed.

  Pastor Jim Simonton waited patiently, thrilled to be able to witness genuine Christian love, amid the fake worldly love being forced down the throats of the masses. He couldn’t help but wonder if this, his very first wedding ceremony performed, would also be his last.

  The moment Jacquelyn joined Brian at the altar the music stopped playing.