Blinding Fear

by Roland, Bruce

  The line went dead.

  For nearly a minute he was quiet, trying to calm the storms raging within. If she’d been in the car with him she’d be dead by now.

  Finally he looked at his watch and again mentally reviewed the calculations that told him when Williams-Jones would arrive at The Sentinel Building. He decided it was time to move to the cab zone on West 41st Street, just east of the building. Once he got there, on multiple occasions, he was forced to wave off people looking for a ride, feigning he already had a fare. All he had to do was wait until the limo pulled up and unloaded Williams-Jones and her husband on the right side of the street. As she crossed over to get to the Sentinel entrance he would mow her down—simple!

  For the next half an hour he impatiently watched the screen of the monitor, waiting for any call from her phone. He hated this part of any operation. Finally, her phone number flashed on the screen. He quickly turned up the volume, heard several rings, then her receptionist answer.

  “Anaya Williams-Jones’ office, Tommy speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Hey, Tommy. It’s Anaya. I’m five minutes away. Traffic’s been a breeze. No accidents or jams—if you can believe it. Get the board’s secretary on the horn and tell her to put me on the agenda for today’s meeting and that it’s urgent! Claire McBeth’s apparently got an above-the-fold article idea that needs immediate attention. I can’t give them any details now but it involves a massive government conspiracy that apparently far exceeds the Pentagon Papers or Watergate!”

  “I’m on it boss!”

  “Thanks! I’ll see you in a bit.”

  The call terminated and the screen went blank.

  ‘Just in time!’ Gnash thought. ‘Another hour and it would have been all over!’

  He started the Crown Victoria’s tired V-8 and put it into drive while holding the car in place with the brakes. Traffic was relatively light this time of the morning so he could easily see quite a distance down the street in his rear view mirrors. Several minutes later he saw the unmistakable grill and front end of a black, Cadillac XTS limo approach. He turned off the scanner and laid it in the foot well on the passenger side. He watched as the limo passed him, pulled over to the curb and came to a stop, a dozen or so car lengths away. The driver jumped out, ran around and opened the passenger door on the sidewalk side. Gnash saw a tall, black man—that he guessed was her husband—get out followed by a much shorter woman. He instantly recognized her as his prey. Gnash pulled away from the curb, knowing precise timing would be critical. As he’d anticipated, the husband looked around at traffic, saw Gnash’s cab approach at a normal speed but assumed it was too far away to be a problem. The man stepped off the curb to lead the way across the street, followed by his wife, four or five feet behind. When she cleared the limo’s street-side bumper he floored the accelerator. As he had again foreseen, the woman stopped in the middle of the street, unsure of what to do as she heard the roar of the engine. She turned to look in his direction. He could see her face frozen with fear as she watched his cab hurtle toward her. The split-second of indecision was all he needed. At fifty miles per hour the front bumper of the cab slammed into her legs at knee level sending her cartwheeling up and over the cab, then crashing down to the street in a heap behind him. He looked briefly in his rearview mirror as he charged away. He could see her unmoving body crumpled like a rag doll in the street, limbs splayed awkwardly. A pool of blood was spreading from her head onto the asphalt. Her husband was bending over her screaming. Other passersby were rushing to help and pointing at his fleeing cab.

  He smiled broadly as an emotion approaching unfettered bliss raced through his entire being. Although he still needed to execute his intricate escape plan—which he was confident would succeed—he always loved the adrenaline high he got moments after he killed someone.

  Chapter 37

  Claire looked at her watch again. It said 4:22. Charles had said he would get to Herc’s mountain home at four and she was getting nervous. She knew that without an inside source there was no way the Sentinel’s board of directors would even begin to consider her idea for an article. She looked at her watch one more time then out the window.

  From across the living room Herc said, “You know what they say, Claire. Time slows down when you watch a clock. He’ll get here.” He, Kay and DeAngelo were watching ESPN highlights of the previous Sunday’s pro football games on a 70-inch, ultra-high definition TV.

  “Yeah, I know.” She drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa, then got up to pace. She jumped as a loud ‘bong’ echoed through the house.

  “That’s the access road annunciator,” Herc said. “Your interview must be on his way up.”

  “Good! I’ll go out to meet him.” She headed for the front door.

  “Hold on a sec, Claire,” DeAngelo said as he hopped out of the LazyBoy lounger he’d been sitting in to watch sports news. “Remember the drill. I make sure everything is good-to-go first. We really don’t know anything about this guy. He could be another hitman hired by Ludlow.” From his underarm holster he pulled out a 40-caliber, Heckler & Koch, semi-auto pistol. He racked a round into the chamber. “Sit tight for a few.”

  Several minutes later, as Herc and Kay stood beside her near the front windows, Claire saw an older, 15-passenger van pull onto Herc’s front yard and come to a stop in a cloud of dust. Through the van’s front windshield she saw the man at the steering wheel lean to his right and fumble with something on the floor next to him. At the same moment, DeAngelo approached the van from out of the cave. He stopped and took his protective stance: feet spread wide, body squared, hands clasped in front of him. The driver—that she assumed was Edward Charles—straightened up, saw DeAngelo and paused for a moment, then opened the van’s door and stepped out carrying something. As he cleared the door the “something” looked like........a rifle or shotgun! Within a split second DeAngelo’s semi-relaxed greeting state had turned to full-blown, immediate and deadly threat state. He dropped into a crouch, pointed his gun using both hands and roared, “Drop the weapon!” At the same instant, the driver ducked back behind the door and pointed his gun at DeAngelo. From inside the van Claire thought she heard a woman or child’s high-pitch scream.

  Claire had visions of an all-out, old-west gun battle ensuing and sprinted back through the house toward the front door.

  “Claire! Stop!” Herc yelled after her.

  “Don’t go out there!” Kay shouted, then tried to reach out and grab her as she dashed past on her way out.

  Within seconds she was clear of the cave, screaming, “Stop it! Both of you! Don’t shoot!” She ran past DeAngelo and skidded to a stop in the dirt halfway between the two men raising one hand toward each. Both men stayed in their ready-to-shoot positions. She turned to DeAngelo. “Please. Lower your gun. If you don’t, everything we’ve been through, everything we hope to do in the future, will probably be for nothing.”

  “He’s got a Remington 12 pointed at us, Claire! If he shoots, we got nothin’ right now!”

  “I don’t care! Please! Just....do it!”

  Desperately, she stared at him, gently shaking her head. Finally, he stopped sighting on the driver behind the van door, looked at her and gradually lowered his weapon.

  She turned back to the driver. “Mr. Charles. I’m Claire McBeth and this is our bodyguard, DeAngelo Bryant. He was only trying to protect me and my friends back in the house. We’ve had three attempts made on our lives in the last 48 hours. DeAngelo saved us during two of them.” She gratefully watched as he also lowered the shotgun, then stepped out from behind the door.

  “So what the hell did you need a bodyguard for?!” Charles demanded. He looked bone-tired, with deep circles under his eyes. Suddenly he swayed slightly on his feet. “Things have been tough for us, too! I’m about done in. Haven’t slept in two.....maybe three days. Kind’ve lost track.” He just stood there for a few moments, Claire thought he might collapse. “The rest of my family’s in the van. They’re goi
ng to need some help.”

  Claire suddenly felt DeAngelo brush past her and walk up to Charles. “Hey, man,” he said as he holstered his handgun. “I’m sorry. Just tryin’ to do my job.” He held out his hand which Charles slowly took. “Let me take your 12 gauge, okay?” DeAngelo quietly asked. Charles held it out but seemed to have trouble lifting it. DeAngelo eased it out of the other man’s hand, ejected a shell from the chamber, flicked on the safety, then laid it back down on the driver’s seat of the van.

  Herc and Kay walked up to stand beside Claire. Herc put his arm around her shoulder. “That took some serious guts,” he said, “although maybe not the smartest thing.”

  “I had to do something!” she replied. “I couldn’t have them blasting away at each other!” She hesitated then quietly continued. “We’d better check on his family.”

  The three walked to the van where DeAngelo had already opened the passenger double doors and was looking in. They could hear what sounded like a child whimpering. A moment later DeAngelo emerged from the door frame carrying a woman. She had a full leg cast on one leg. A second after that a small boy stepped out. He had a cast on his right wrist.

  “This is Veena, my wife,” Charles said. “That’s my son Rojan. Our daughter is Alisha. She nearly drowned when someone tried to kill them. She should still be in the hospital—Veena too—but I didn’t think it was safe there.”

  Claire leaned into the van and saw a very small girl, perhaps six or seven, wearing an oxygen mask sitting in a booster seat. She was obviously terrified.

  “It’s okay, Alisha. My name is Claire. Let me help you,” Claire said soothingly. She reached out her hand which the girl slowly grasped. Claire gently led her from the van while also lifting out her oxygen tank.

  Kay stooped down in front of Rojan and held out his hand. “Hello, Rojan! My name is Kay.”

  The boy shook it, then smiled slightly. “That’s a funny name.”

  Kay chuckled. “So I’ve been told. But I don’t mind. How about I give you a piggy-back ride?”

  “Sure.” Rojan said. He walked around and hopped up on Kayode’s back who stood up and started back toward the house at an easy trot.

  Herc turned to Charles. “You need some help?”

  “Thanks. I’ve come this far. I think I can make it a few more feet.” The two started walking. “I suppose I’d better tell you my real name—it’s Javad, Ranjit Javad.”

  “I’m Herc Ramond. I’m really sorry we had to meet like this.”

  An hour later the children were watching “Sponge Bob Square Pants” on Nickelodeon in a back corner of the living room. The adults were relaxing near the front. Veena was propped up in the LazyBoy with Ranjit sitting on a love seat nearby. Claire, Herc and DeAngelo were arrayed together on the large sofa while Kay de-stressed in a glider-rocker.

  Herc had insisted on preparing the evening meal before they got into the reason for their meeting. He’d baked them halibut fillets and included some fried rice, green beans, and Hawaiian sweet rolls. For dessert they’d indulged in Snicker’s ice cream bars. The piece de resistance for the meal was a tumbler of Bailey’s Irish Cream over ice for all.

  “Thank you so much, Herc,” Veena said. “After nothing but bland hospital food for the last few of days, that meal was great!”

  “No problem,” Herc replied.

  Claire finished off the last of her drink, then set the glass on the coffee table in front of the sofa. “I kind’ve hate to bring this up now—given how relaxing our meal was—but maybe this would be a good time to tell us what you know Ranjit.”

  “Excuse me for interrupting,” DeAngelo said. “But first I think you should show us some ID if you’ve got it on you, Mr. Javad.”

  “Sure.” He pulled out his wallet, then fished out a Utah driver’s license and NSA employee ID badge which he handed to DeAngelo who carefully surveyed them then passed them around for the rest to see. “I left the NSA very.......abruptly,” Ranjit said. “Normally they would have taken their ID back.”

  “Thanks,” DeAngelo said. “They look good to me. Go ahead and lay it all out for us.”

  Ranjit leaned back in the love seat. They all could see he was trying to figure out where to start. Finally, he just blurted out. “There is an asteroid coming that is going to hit the earth. It will.......” He stopped as he saw his four new friends suddenly glance at each other with knowing looks. “What?! Have you heard about it?!”

  “Yeah,” Herc said. He then began to rewind their story—from Claire’s arrival at Kay’s spaceport to do an article on space tourism to the harrowing attempts on their lives and final terror-filled escape from Colorado Springs.

  “I knew it!” Ranjit declared. “I told them it would leak out; that it was only a matter of time!”

  “Give us some detail about how all this started?” Claire asked. “How are you involved?”

  Ranjit was shaking his head, staring out the window. Then, for the next forty-five minutes, he poured it all out. Claire, Herc, Kay and DeAngelo were stunned. Even though they had experienced first hand the apparent brutality of their government, it was still a horrific shock to discover the sheer scale of the conspiracy. Thousands of federal employees, other affiliated organizations and every law enforcement, intelligence and security agency had been sworn to absolute secrecy in covering up the greatest danger to the planet in all of human history. And of course, at least 52 other countries had done exactly the same thing within their respective borders.

  “It’s just blows my mind,” DeAngelo said after Ranjit was through. “The U.S. government—and a bunch of others—killing their own people to hide something they have no right to hide from us! It’s just plain nuts!”

  “How many astronomers or others have died worldwide because they didn’t stay quiet?” Kay asked Ranjit.

  “Of course I haven’t seen the latest tally, but before I escaped the total was 23. Gnash has personally killed 11 in this country. He said he’s also brought in other ‘contractors’ to deal with those he didn’t have time for. The total has undoubtably gone up. It’s probably over 50 by now.” Suddenly he sat up straight. “How could I forget! Just before I walked out the door for the last time at the NSA I managed to steal some letters and other documents from Gnash that could be about the conspiracy and coverup. I’ve got them in the van.” He jumped up and rushed out the door.

  Claire excitedly looked at the others. “This could be the final piece of the puzzle I need! If what he’s got are documents about the conspiracy to or from high-level officials, the Sentinel will almost certainly give me the go-ahead for the article.”

  Within a minute Ranjit returned with multiple sheets of paper in hand. He spread them on the coffee table and everyone immediately crowded around. He shuffled through them. “After Gnash ordered me out of the NSA conference room, he turned his back to me. I think for him it was a symbolic way of saying our working relationship was permanently over. I took the opportunity to grab as much as I could without him noticing. I didn’t have time to look them over to decide which ones to steal and which to leave behind. The fact that he came to my house afterward, specifically asking about ‘missing documents,’ tells me I might have snagged something that was dangerous to him and the conspiracy.” He began looking them over as the others intently watched over his shoulder. One by one he read and then discarded each page. “Crap! Most of this stuff is just copies of compiled data.” Then he picked up a single sheet of what looked to Claire like expensive, heavyweight bond paper. It was a light cream color and crisply folded twice to fit in a standard #10 envelope.

  As he unfolded it she caught her breath.

  At the top was a beautifully embossed, outlined image of the White House set in a dark blue oval. The words “The White House” were printed directly beneath. Below that was “Washington, D.C.,” then “Office of the President” and finally, several more spaces down was “Top Secret-Most Sensitive.” She could instantly see that it wasn’t a copy. It was an original
document.

  “Looks like I got lucky,” Ranjit said quietly.

  “Oh. My. God!” Claire blurted out.

  “Whoa!” DeAngelo breathed.

  Everyone around the table moved in a little closer.

  It was addressed to the “Gina King, Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, Washington, D.C.”

  Ranjit took a deep breath and began to read slowly and out loud. “The President has authorized your agency to take any and all measures as you may deem appropriate to suppress and contain public knowledge of the developing international emergency. Those measures may include deadly force as specific circumstances warrant. What those circumstances are, as well as when and where deadly force will be invoked, will be left solely to the discretion of your field agents and supervisors. The President further authorizes you to appoint a Special Agent who will have complete control over these efforts. He or she is authorized to have unfettered access to all other federal agency’s resources and employees for any purpose that person sees fit. As additionally authorized by the emergency joint session of Congress, this individual will be given full immunity from arrest and prosecution for any actions that he or she may take. Although he deeply regrets such authorizations, the President sees no alternative courses of action given the severity and immediacy of the threat. Original documents, similar to this one, are presently being sent by special courier to: Senior and ranking, majority and minority members of Congress, Secretary of Defense, Secretaries of the Army, Air Force, Navy and Marines, Commandant - Coast Guard, Chairman - Joint Chiefs of Staff, Director - Homeland Security, Director - National Security Agency, Director - Central Intelligence Agency, Administrator - National Aeronautics and Space Administration, Attorney General, Chief Justice - Supreme Court. Other similar letters will be sent as needed to select individuals and agencies. No other person may see this authorization letter unless one of the above individuals, or his/her specifically appointed and authorized representative, is physically present when it is given and the recipients are dully sworn and they have been pre-approved by my office.’