by Erik Carter
“I’m an amateur historian and someone who cares deeply about the environment. I wanted to hear what you have to say and, if possible, join up with you. I figure you gotta have some sort of command structure, people like Cody and the guy with the ponytail. I want to be a part of what you’re doing here.”
Dale knew he was getting himself even deeper into the goo of a sticky situation. But they had him unarmed, covered by a shotgun, and locked in a basement. The best way to explain his erratic behavior would be to imply that he was trying to help.
“An amateur historian?” Hendrix said. “You’re a man after my own heart. I’m a bit of a history buff myself. Who would you say had a bigger impact on global culture in their time, Alexander the Great or Napoleon?”
There was a slight grin on Hendrix’s face now. He was appraising Dale, and he was enjoying it. The question he’d posed was broad and rather arbitrary. Its purpose wasn’t to see if Dale had the “right” answer but rather to see if Dale had the basic historical knowledge that he claimed he did.
Dale took in a deep breath. And then started.
“If you consider the fact that, during the time of Alexander the Great, global culture wasn’t truly global in the sense that we think of it now, then one might lean toward him. After all, the Mediterranean was more or less the known world to Westerners at that point, and when Alexander captured most of it, his cultural expansion of the Greek way of life throughout the Mediterranean region was so great that it earned its own term: Hellenistic culture. That said, there had been connections to the East for some time via the great Silk Road network. But, even then, the East was a far-off, exotic land. In The Hellenistic world that Alexander created, there was—”
“Okay, okay. Your story checks out,” Hendrix said with a laugh. “Now I got one more question for you.”
“Shoot.”
Hendrick gave a little chuckle-ish sigh and shook his head. “Very poor choice of words, Tommy.” He raised the Model 36 and put it to Dale’s forehead. “My question is this: why shouldn’t I blow your brains out right here, right now?”
Dale sucked in a breath. He could hear his pulse thumping in his ears.
He’d never had his own gun pointed at him before…
Hendrix continued. “See, when a guy darts out of my meeting, chasing another fella who’s been acting suspicious for weeks, and then we find that he’s packing a gun … why, that just gets me real nervous. Jumpy. It makes me wonder why the guy’s really here.”
The barrel of his gun felt cool on Dale’s forehead. Ice-cold. His sweat dripped upon it.
“I told you, I’m just here to help.”
The gun stayed pressed against Dale. Hendrix looked him in the eye. The corners of his lips raised.
And finally he lowered the gun.
Dale exhaled.
“You seem sincere enough,” Hendrix said. “And you’re clearly intelligent. We have a large operation going down tomorrow, and I need all the smart people I can get on my side.”
“Glad to be on the team.”
“Oh, no. You’re not on the team. Not just yet,” Hendrix said.
He paused, and the smile he was wearing turned wicked.
“First you have to pass a test.”
Chapter Eighteen
Becker’s stomach was in knots.
He’d never left a man behind like he just had with Conley. And he couldn’t help but think about Lionel Kemp, his officer who had disappeared the day before. He sensed things falling apart around him. It was as though he’d suddenly and mysteriously become inept.
His dress shoes tapped on the polished cement floor as he made his way to the conference room at the end of the hallway. It was almost a quarter after ten. He’d gone back to Y-12 straight from the Asa Hendrix meeting. Most of the lights in the office building were out—the standard practice at night—giving a sleepy, quiet feeling to the place. A custodian was mopping the floor, and as he passed, he nodded at him.
It wasn’t just the custodial staff who remained in the building, though. While it wasn’t nearly as crowded as it was during the day, there were still staff members and security personnel coming and going. The operations never shut down, so the ORR’s protection never took a break. Twenty-four hours a day, 365 days year.
He stopped at a door, took out his keys, and unlocked it. He flipped on the light switch. It was a small conference room with a table in the center surrounded by eight chairs. A window on the far side of the room, blinds closed. The bulletin board on the back wall was pinned with papers and a large map.
He walked to the map and took from his pocket the piece of paper on which he’d written the address of the Asa Hendrix meeting. He found the location on the map, stuck his finger on it. Then he looked to where a pushpin held a photograph of Kemp’s abandoned car. It was one of Becker’s fleet of vehicles, SECURITY POLICE written in big letters across its side. The driver-side door was open, and the nose of the car was angled into a creek, surrounded by forest. Mud was plastered to the side of the vehicle behind the wheels.
This photograph had been pinned to the map in the location where the vehicle had been found, a creek in a large wooded area. Becker looked between the photograph of Kemp’s vehicle and the spot that he was marking with his thumb, the location of Asa Hendrix’s resort cabin. According to the scale at the bottom of the map, the distance was about six miles.
A new thought entered his mind.
Where had Kemp been patrolling yesterday?
Becker walked over to the table and picked up a large black binder then flipped to the appropriate page. His office divided Oak Ridge into a grid system for the patrols, and Becker had a dozen guys out at any point. He ran his finger down the sheet of paper until he found: Kemp, Lionel. He traced his finger to the right, to the next column. It read, A-6.
He stepped back to the map, located sector A-6. Right in the center of this sector, almost dead center, was the spot where Becker’s thumb had been moments earlier. Asa Hendrix’s resort cabin.
“Interesting…” Becker said.
There was a knock on the door.
In walked Kieran Burks. She was young, about twenty-five. Average height. Black. She wore a dark gray pantsuit with flared legs, tight enough to show off her figure but not so tight as to be unprofessional. Hoop earrings. Pale pink lipstick. Short hair kept in a mini Afro.
“You wanted to see me?” she said as she shook out an M&M from the bag in her hand and popped it in her mouth. In spite of her toned physique, Burks’ diet consisted mostly of sugar and cigarettes.
Becker stepped back to the table and grabbed a manila envelope, the one Conley had left in the Pantera between the seat and the console. He handed it to Burks, who opened it and looked inside.
Becker stepped beside her.”What do you think? Same guy?”
Burks bounced her head side to side skeptically as she looked at the images.
“Eh … I don’t know. Maaaaybe…?”
Becker tapped his finger on the yearbook image.
“I need you to dig into this guy. Anything you can find,” he said. “The name’s Darrell Asa Lutz.”
Chapter Nineteen
Sonya O’Neil sat surrounded by empty chairs, looking at the abandoned podium. She was the only person in the cabin, which made her feel simultaneously honored, awe-struck, and anxious. The room was completely silent, but it was still pulsating with the energy of Asa Hendrix’s words. Everything he said was electricity to her. Snapping and popping through the air.
And she was still electrified.
She couldn’t believe that she was being trusted to sit there, all by herself. She’d already been so honored when her friend Cody Ellis, one of Mr. Hendrix’s inner circle, had invited her to sit in the front row. After the meeting, as everyone was leaving the cabin, Cody had told her to stay behind. To wait. When she’d asked him why, he told her something that she was still having a hard time believing.
Asa Hendrix wanted to meet her.
She’d been sitting alone for a good twenty minutes now. She could feel a stupid grin on her face. She didn’t care. Let it stay there. Because she believed she understood why she was being introduced to Asa Hendrix on such an important night, the night before the big event he cryptically mentioned during his speech.
He was going to invite her to join his inner circle.
Surely that was it. Why else would he want to meet her now of all times?
A negative voice in the back of her head kept telling her that she was being foolishly optimistic, that Asa Hendrix would never choose someone like her.
Why would he? the voice seemed to ask. You’re nothing special.
But she refused to listen to it. This was Sonya’s moment. Mr. Hendrix was going to ask her to join. And she was going to seize the opportunity.
As she continued to gaze at the podium, only a few feet away, an impulse came to her.
She stood up and stepped onto the dais. The metal structure beneath the carpeting squeaked with her weight. Her breaths became shallow. She felt a bit lightheaded.
And she stepped behind the podium.
Even more lightheaded now. This was where he had stood. Only minutes ago. And during all the other meetings, all his amazing speeches. All those electric words. Telling the truth about the government’s destruction of the environment, the decimation of the water. Predicting the future.
Sonya only wished she’d discovered him sooner. He’d been holding his meetings for two years, but she’d only attended for the last three months. Her life, though, had been changed in those three months. She had known that she’d found a kindred spirit after her first attendance. Someone who cared deeply for the planet. Someone whose mind was open to the call of the spiritual world.
Sonya became a fervent supporter of Asa Hendrix, a decision that was—both consciously and subconsciously, she assumed—in defiance of her parents. While Sonya had always been a spiritual individual, her parents, both of whom were professors at the University of Tennessee, were outspoken pragmatists. All her life they’d been cruel to her about her spiritualism. Judgmental. Mocking. And for the last year since Sonya graduated UT, her parents’ ridicule had served as fuel for her spiritual exploration. She’d attended churches and synagogues. Visited Indian reservations. Studied Buddhism and Hinduism. Learned the ancient tales of gods and heroism from Egypt, Greece, Rome.
Several months into her path of self-discovery, an acquaintance, whom she’d met at an astrology meeting, had invited her to see a quirky man on the outskirts of Oak Ridge who claimed to know the future, saying he had predicted acts of governmental aggression against the environment. And when Sonya soon discovered that her special friend Cody Ellis was one of Mr. Hendrix’s inner circle, she took that as another sign that she needed to find out what this prophet in the woods had to say.
But it was Asa Hendrix himself who solidified in her mind the idea that this was all destined to be. His knowledge, his wisdom, his passion. According to what she’d heard, his crowds started off small two years ago, expanding slowly at first and eventually exploding in size. By the time Sonya began attending, she was just one person among a large and passionate crowd. Another one of Mr. Hendrix’s followers. But she wanted to be more. So much more. She yearned for it. To be more than another face in his crowd. To be part of his team.
As the weeks stretched on, she began to realize that her dream was never going to happen. Mr. Hendrix’s following was so large, all of them so devoted to him, so passionate about his message. What made Sonya more special than any of them? How could someone like her be of any value to someone like Asa Hendrix?
Thankfully she’d had the willpower to resist those self-defeating urges because now she was getting the unbelievable opportunity of meeting Mr. Hendrix. It had been Cody who arranged everything. For several weeks, Sonya had considered talking to Cody, planting a seed in his mind about getting a chance to meet Mr. Hendrix. But it felt wrong. She hadn’t talked to him in two years, and she knew that it would be cruel of her to suddenly reestablish contact only for the chance of meeting Asa Hendrix.
As it turned out, it was Cody who approached her. He’d said that she had something special, something more than the others in the crowd.
That she was someone Asa Hendrix would want to meet.
Sonya had sat down with Cody several times after that, had long discussions with him about Mr. Hendrix’s visions and plans.
And then … silence.
For two weeks, Cody didn’t speak to her. She thought she’d messed up, said the wrong thing somehow. Finally, tonight, before the meeting, Cody had approached her.
And now here she was. Invited to meet Asa Hendrix. Waiting for Cody to return. Waiting for her personal introduction. Ignoring the negative voice in her head. Clinging to the optimism that this introduction could mean that Mr. Hendrix wanted her to join his inner circle.
She let these feelings wash over her as she stood behind his podium. She leaned forward, rested her arms on it as he sometimes did. Her body was touching the podium in the same place that his did. She could almost feel his presence coming through the polished surface. It sent shivers through her. And aroused her.
The front door opened. Sonya jumped back, took her arms off the podium.
Cody walked in.
“What are you doing?” he said.
“I just wanted to… I just…” she stammered as she quickly walked out from behind the podium and stepped off the dais.
Cody shook his head. “Are you ready?”
Sonya’s heart fluttered.
“Of course.”
She hurried over to Cody, who stood by the open door. A cool breeze blew into the cabin.
He had that serious look on his face. He’d worn it constantly since she’d seen him—for the first time in years—at the initial meeting she’d attended. It suited him. Cody had a serious soul. But while Sonya recognized the gravity of Mr. Hendrix’s visions and mission, she also felt like Cody needed to smile again. Every once in a while. Smiling suited him too.
They’d met five years ago, and Sonya had watched him mature and struggle through the difficulties of young adulthood. He was thin and rather short, not much taller than her. And he had soft features. He’d always been very self-conscious of his long eyelashes, but he had a very square jaw too, something that countered the femininity of his other features and gave him a unique appearance. Not strange. Just unique. Different. She’d always thought that if he grew his hair out he’d look like a rock star. Something like Steven Tyler.
“Thank you for this, Cody,” she said, looking deeply into his eyes in a way that let him know how serious she was being.
“I’m putting myself out there by doing this,” he said, his tone of voice just as serious as the expression on his face. “I recommended you, so however you handle this introduction is a reflection upon me.”
“I know,” she said and put her hand on his shoulder. “You’ve always been good to me.”
He just nodded. “Let’s go.”
Sonya had thought it bizarre enough when Cody led her into the musty, dark barn at the back of the property, but when he opened the door in the back—flooding light into the darkness from a basement below—and led her down a set of creaking, wooden steps, she suddenly felt a bit of unease.
However, as she descended and caught a glimpse of a man watching her, every bit of unease vanished.
It was Asa Hendrix. And he was looking right at her. He smiled.
He’d smiled at her.
Sonya didn’t know what to do. Should she smile back? Should she say hello?
Instead, she took the coward’s way out and looked away. She felt herself blush. This embarrassed her and, of course, made her blush even more. She was mortified.
When she and Cody reached the basement floor, she stopped. And waited.
There was another man in the room, standing behind Mr. Hendrix and beneath the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, lighting the dingy basement. He w
ore a tan leather jacket over a black T-shirt and jeans. Motorcycle boots. Shaggy brown hair with sideburns. Incredibly attractive. He looked uncomfortable. Out of place. As though he was trying to fit in but secretly wanted to be anywhere but in this basement.
Cody walked to the far side of the room, several feet away, and positioned himself vigilantly against the cinderblock wall. Somehow Sonya felt a bit vulnerable then with him so far away.
Mr. Hendrix stepped closer to her. Her breaths became short. Her heart pounded furiously. She averted her gaze again. She couldn’t look him in the eye. More embarrassment.
“Why, hello there,” Mr. Hendrix said.
His voice … Electric.
He looked her up and down. “So you’re Sonya.”
She returned her attention to him. Looked into his eyes. Those brown eyes.
“Sonya, yes,” she said. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Hendrix.”
“Call me Asa. Please.”
“Okay … Asa.”
She couldn’t believe she’d addressed him by his first name. She felt a bit of sweat on her forehead.
“Cody speaks very highly of you,” he said. “I understand you two were quite close once upon a time. High school sweethearts, yes?”
“College, actually,” she said. It made her nervous to correct him. “Freshman year at UT. We met in our first class.”
“Teenage love,” Asa said with a smile. It was a warm, genuine, heartfelt smile.
He stepped away from her and cleared a path between her and the other man standing beneath the light.
“We have an interesting set of circumstances here tonight,” he said as he looked at both of them. “On the eve of my big announcement, we have two people who are dying to join my inner circle. Sonya, meet Tommy Watson.”
Yes! She knew it! She was being invited to join Asa’s elite. She felt like leaping into the air, running victory laps around the basement. But she needed to focus, to pay attention to what Asa had said. He’d introduced her to the other man.
