“I’m so glad he chose you to be my dad.”
“I’m so glad we added ‘nurture’ to my vow. Oh, I almost forgot. Just before you finished with the second group, I was thinking about your dream. I think I was mistaken about Jenny.”
“Oh?”
“I told you I thought her being an adult meant that she was mature enough in God’s sight to be a help in your ministry. I’m beginning to realize that when God healed her foot, that in itself is proving to be a vital part of the story.”
“Yes, that will be especially true for the people who saw her missing the foot.”
“I’m also getting a clearer picture about the three different types you rescued. Remember, they were all dead. A life preserver is for saving people’s lives, so in a spiritual dream it may represent a member of the clergy. The empty bottles may represent people who have never heard anything of God’s plan, and the bottles filled with the brown goo may be people that are full of untruths about God’s plan.
“The writing may be something that is preventing them from responding like you did, because of a vow they made or a lie they believed or something else. We need to ask God to start working even now, in the hearts of those who will hear our story, when we each tell it and when we tell it together. And to give us the wisdom to tell it however it will best serve those we tell.”
83
Just after midnight, about an hour after Madelyn Jennings went off and Abigail Hammond came on at the Southmead Hospital New Horizons Mother and Baby Unit, a police detective and another man came to the nurse’s station of the maternity section.
“Hullo, Constable Morton! What brings you out tonight? Something I can help you with?”
“Evening, Miss Hammond.” He showed her his credentials. “I’m here escorting Mr. Smith from Her Majesty’s Security Service. I am vouching for him, as he has worked with our department before.”
“You didn’t have to show me your badge. I’ve seen you around enough that I know your favorite brand of tea.”
Mr. Smith offered his badge as well. Abigail took it and checked his face against the picture, looked at the identifying information, and handed it back.
The night nurse, a plump, middle-aged woman with curly graying hair, was used to visitors and wanted to keep this as short as possible. “Are you here to see a newborn, or is MI-5 making an official visit?”
“I need to see the records on a Jennimore Trillbey, who was born here about three months ago.”
Abigail got the file. When she brought it out, she wondered what their interest was.
“Can’t say much about it.”
Mr. Smith elaborated a little, though, while he was leafing through the contents. “Did you see on the news about the Britannia Airlines flight that crashed into the ocean? Jennimore and her mum were on that flight and survived the crash. The mum is claiming that God protected them and also healed Jennimore’s foot. The service is concerned that there is really no other explanation, especially if the foot is whole. They want to prevent someone from trying to discredit the mother, Rachel Trillbey, by eliminating any proof that there was a missing foot. So they sent me to get the records for safekeeping.”
“I’m sorry,” the nurse replied, “but I cannot approve anyone taking the records from here.”
Mr. Smith glared at the woman behind the counter. “Who can approve it? Are they here now?”
“The section chief is over in the main building. Would you like me to call him? He is also a doctor, and he may be in clinic or surgery.”
“In clinic? Or surgery? It’s after midnight! They don’t schedule those things after midnight, now, do they? Yes, call him right now!”
“He’s on duty in Emergency this evening. I wish we could schedule emergencies, but we can’t.” She moved the file from the counter to the desk while she made the call. Yes, he was free. Yes, he knew the rules. Yes, he would be right over.
Mr. Smith explained his purpose to Dr. Patterson, who gave his approval but insisted an inventory of the file be made and kept in the records room.
“Would a list be okay?” Mr. Smith asked. “It looks like those x-rays and ultrasounds won’t copy too well.”
“Yes, that’s the procedure.” Nurse Hammond was being very thorough. “We have a form to fill out with the list, the approving official, Dr. Patterson’s signature, and your signature as receiving the file. I’ll give you a copy. Then we’ll put everything in this specially marked medical records envelope and give it to you. I’ll need the address where the file will be going and your phone number in case we need access to the records. I’ll need to make a photocopy of your badge.”
The list was made, the photocopying was done, the file was packaged up, and the form was signed. Constable Morton and Mr. Smith departed and Dr. Patterson went back to the main building, leaving Abigail Hammond alone and wondering what this world was coming to.
84
Why does everything happen at night, after bedtime, Jacob Strauss asked himself, on duty at K103 in the Gulf of Mexico. He had heard about the plane and the island on the news, and Jimmy had thrown in some more information. He decided to keep track of the weather in the vicinity of the island, which was starting to be called Sohm Island based on its location in the North Atlantic Ocean. He had set his weather-tracking programs to the island’s coordinates. This allowed him to track Doppler radar, temperature gradients, and air density. With no weather station on the island, he couldn’t track atmospheric pressure, which would have been helpful for hurricane reporting.
At 11 p.m. on Saturday night, June 29, Jacob checked one last time before bed. Strange, there was a storm brewing on the radar, but not over the island. The monitor was programmed to zoom out if an intense storm were discovered in another part of the world. Right then, the southwest portion of the Sahara Desert was centered in the monitor.
Sand storm! This was more exciting than baby-sitting the weather over the island, he thought. He reset the computers to track the storm, and decided to brush up on the NOAA Sand and Dust Storm protocols in the morning, since entry-level personnel did not receive much SDS training. Only three more days here, he reminded himself as he headed to bed.
85
On Sunday, June 30, at 6 a.m. sharp, the US Marine Corps MH-53K King Stallion lifted off from its pad at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina, for the six-hour ride over the Atlantic. Penny Hasid had taken the FBI courier flight from Chicago to Washington Dulles Airport, which continued to Camp Lejeune after picking up Phil Henry and his gear.
“It’s good to see you again, Penny,” he said when he met her at Dulles. “Dusty Mae has been telling me good things about you.”
“Thanks! At first, I thought she was too hard on us, but now I appreciate it. It was good to see JC again, too. I want to pick your brain, but JC said don’t be a pest.”
“Pick away, at least for the next hour,” he said. “The helicopter will be fairly noisy. I hope you brought something to read.”
At Camp Lejeune, Phil and Penny were joined by a coroner, six armed Marines, a number of various-sized crates and boxes, and tanks of diesel fuel strapped to pallets.
Phil was right, Penny thought, even with noise-cancelling headphones, six hours of this is going to be tough.
86
It was Sunday morning. Matt and Maggie had finished off the MREs they had started the night before, and Maggie had fed Jenny. They were sitting close together in the shade of the mammoth helicopter as the Marines went about their business. Jenny was happily wiggling around and cooing on the two coffin pads they had joined together. Matt opened the Bible Paul had given Maggie the night before, and was explaining what they now held in their hands.
“The Bible is divided into the Old Testament and the New Testament. What Paul gave you is just the New Testament and some of the poetry and wisdom from the Old Testament. The Old and New Testaments together are what God wants you to know about him and his kingdom. It starts at the creation of the world and ends at the end of the world.
“As you read it, God will speak to you, to your spirit and to your mind. It is the primary way the Holy Spirit of God will speak to you, although as you have already found, he will speak to you other ways as well. It’s an amazing book, and if there is something you don’t understand or need help with, ask God first, then ask others, like me.”
“Thanks, Matt. I’ve been thinking about this a lot since last night, like when I was nursing Jenny before everyone woke up. When my friend in college took me to her Bible group, they would open up to random places and talk about it. Where should I start?”
“Start at the beginning of the New Testament, at the Gospel of Matthew. Just read straight through. If you have a question, either ask right then or wait, because a lot of questions will be answered later on as you read. When we get back, we’ll find a bookstore and I’ll help you get a good complete Bible.”
Later on, Paul came by to let them know the EOD teams were almost finished. “When they’re done,” he said, “they will want to blow up a lot of duds. I thought I should get permission from the owners of this island. What say you two?”
Maggie was busy reading and was quite oblivious to Paul’s presence, so Matt answered for them both. “Yes, that would be fine. Would it be possible for them to blow them up near the edge? That way, if the explosion causes a big crack in the basalt, we won’t be in any danger here.”
Paul left with that suggestion. Matt tapped Maggie on the shoulder to get her attention. “I’m taking Jenny for a walk to see the sights,” he said, and looked around. It was flat, white, and featureless in every direction except toward the plane, which was still off-limits.
He had an idea for the next morning; if it were clear overnight, he would take Maggie to a spot where they could see the ocean and the sun coming up over the horizon, on their last day on the island. He got Jenny’s carry-sling and a strip of pink and gold velvet and headed east. He continued until he could stoop down to Maggie’s height and see the ocean above the white of the dried mud, and tied the velvet to one of the ubiquitous potato-rocks.
Maggie was waiting for him when he got back. “I have some questions,” she announced.
“Great!” Matt said. “You may have more questions than I have answers, but after one of us changes Jenny, we’ll talk!”
They would talk until the sun was overhead, at which point they took a break for lunch, another box of MREs. Halfway through lunch, there was a loud explosion to the southeast.
87
Kevin Bhatt was a minute or two late, so instead of watching the marquee scroll through all the meetings and dinners, he asked the front desk clerk. “The International Bread Consortium? Yes,” the clerk said, “it’s in the Hibiscus Room, down that hallway next to the Lotus Ballroom.”
Kevin thanked the clerk and headed to the Hibiscus Room. Along the way, he reflected on his part in this project. He was forty-six and the youngest, and most successful by far, of four brothers. Their father had been successful also, dealing in exotic woods from Brazil: bloodwood, cumaru, ipe, pernambuco, tamarind, and tigerwood, which he sold in world markets, most notably New York City.
The brothers had split the business when their father retired and moved back to their native India, but Kevin was the only one of the four who could make it work. He spoke impeccable Hindi, Portuguese, and English, necessary languages in his business. He had bought a large tract of land near the Amazon River from where most of the wood had come. He owned several barges and an ocean-going ship for transport, along with a pier giving access between the Rio Jari and the roads leading back to his plantation.
Although many nations had embargoes on threatened or endangered species like cumaru and tamarind, Kevin had always been able to find a market. But selling wood got to be quite boring over the years. One day a man named Rushil Singh came along and asked him if he would like to add a little spice to his life. And so he became part of the International Bread Consortium. He wasn’t quite sure of the ultimate goals of the IBC, but the money was good and they wanted little more than use of his resources, with his oversight.
In the year since joining the IBC, his involvement had increased. He had hired information technologists and set them up in an office near his shipping headquarters in Macapá, and built an open-air hangar on the west side of his plantation. They were rebuilding MiG fighter planes, but Kevin had learned not to ask too many questions.
The catered dinner was about to start; Kevin was the last of a dozen attendees. During the dinner, most of the guests noticed one of the wait staff who seemed more than a little interested in their conversations. The talk among the diners was all about families, bread truck customizing, uniforms, and different types of flour. By the time dessert was served, that server had disappeared and was not seen again. Dasya Khatri asked discreetly about it, and was told the man had had a family emergency and had to depart.
After the dinner was over and they were left alone, Rishaan Chabra called the meeting to order. Patel’s Bakery, Wilson’s Bakery, Dmitri’s Bakery, and Ming’s Bakery team leaders reported on progress toward procuring and outfitting bread delivery trucks as well as obtaining warehouse space on the edges of their respective locations. Rishaan was pleased and commended each of the teams, in turn, on their reported progress. Kevin reported the hangar activity was on schedule, and the only glitch in the funds transfer and disbursement was that the IT Survey Specialist had to go direct instead of indirect, and explained why.
Next, Rishaan called for the reports of the Master Baker and Bakery Equipment Designers. As usual, he was using the terms developed several months previously, in case of eavesdropping. The Master Baker reported the new recipe for the ingredients had been proven out, and the ingredients themselves had been placed on order with thirty different sources in thirteen different countries. Delivery was scheduled to be complete in fourteen days. The Bakery Equipment Designers reported the LED prototype arrays for the mixing tanks had already been tested successfully. Enough arrays for all the tanks should soon be delivered to the bakery teams.
“Very good,” Rishaan said, as the business portion of the meeting was drawing to a close, “all very good. Of course, we will wait until all supplies and equipment are in place and operational before we make any move. And Kevin, I have a box of materials I need you to take to the Amazon tomorrow.”
The discussion turned to the plane which crashed into the Atlantic, and the subsequent discovery of it on the island which mysteriously appeared under it. Jovan Stojanović, the Serbian team leader of Dmitri’s Bakery, quietly shut the door to the hallway. Addressing Rishaan, he asked the question on everyone’s mind. “We shot that plane down, didn’t we?”
Rishaan’s plump fingers ran through his slick hair. He was ready to defend the action. “Yes, we did. It was necessary. Damn idiots were involved, and we needed to fix things!”
The response was not “why” as he had been expecting, but “how”. As in, how did we know it was the right plane, how did we know where it would be, and how did our planes get there so quickly?
Rishaan, with Dasya’s help, explained. “Some of this most of you already know. Some know different parts than others, so I’ll explain the whole thing. We realized early on, after we had acquired six MiG fighter planes, that those would not work well enough for delivery. We had designed the tanks so we could load them and use them on the MiGs, and during testing, we found we could use them as external fuel tanks.
“Several of the MiGs we got were armed with machine guns. We didn’t need them, but since we were offered thirty thousand rounds of American ammunition for a good price, we decided maybe we might need the MiGs for self-defense. These were parked at our operational base. As you know, we had recruited several MiG-qualified pilots who stayed where the MiGs were, because that was the best place for them in case we needed them.
“There was an apprentice baker on staff who was in a position to do a live test using the latest recipe. A Russian man and his wife were selected. A device was inserted into
their baggage on their trip to the USA, designed to function upon opening their baggage. The test was to check effectiveness, time delay before onset of symptoms, and dissipation. We had another apprentice baker observing them on their trip, but the pair never opened that piece of luggage, and boarded their flight in Minneapolis en route back to Russia. We were notified immediately. We realized our project would fail completely if they got back to Saint Petersburg safely.
“We thought we had only two hours, but we were tracking their flight details and found that their baggage was delayed because of a tight schedule. That gave us an additional three hours. That was enough time to arm and fuel the two MiGs and get them in the general location of the Air World plane. The MiGs don’t have their own radar, so we had logged on to the air traffic control radar and we relayed its location to the pilots. The plane almost got away since the pilots weren’t completely sure it was the right one, but then they got confirmation and finished the job.”
Zhao Zhang Li, the Chinese team leader, thanked them for the excellent explanation, and everyone agreed. However, she wondered what would happen now that this island appeared under the plane.
“Rishaan thinks of this simply as a test of our resolve,” Dasya offered. “All the equipment and ingredients are ordered and on their way. We shouldn’t have to delay delivery at all.”
88
Bob McGee set down his diet soda as he opened the classified email.
Classification: SECRET
From:Pedro A. Santos
To:VTC Task Force
DTG:10:00 AM 30 June 2019 (30JUN19 1400Z)
Subject:Meeting Summary, Brazil/US Ambassadors
1. Subject meeting took place 9:00 to 9:45 a.m. this date. Attendee list is available upon request.
2. Purpose of meeting: to discuss the situation in and around Macapá and the Rio Jari, to determine necessity for action, to delineate responsibilities and limitations of American military and civilian agencies, and to determine appropriate publicity.
The Wreck Emerged Page 26
