The Best of All Possible Worlds

by Richard D. Parker

  “We’re going to have to buy him some new clothes again,” Christine added, utterly amazed and mystified by the boy’s growth rate.

  “Galen…” Paula asked feeling suddenly weak and just a little crazy. She looked at the boy across from her, blinking rapidly like he was admitting a very bright light. “When are your angels coming?”

  Galen smiled at her and Paula’s blinking actually grew more rapid. “They are coming soon…tonight…after dark,” he answered and took a bite of chicken. “They’re finally coming!”

  They ate the rest of the meal in relative silence, Adam ate hungrily, very curious about what was to happen; Paula ate mostly in stunned amazement, absolutely sure she was in the presence of a divine human being, and Christine in slowly simmering anger, wondering how everything had gotten so far out of control.

  †

  “Nineteenth floor!” Armstrong said, gazing through the window of the Escalade and up at the tall apartment building. The sun was low on the horizon and many of the apartment windows were now lit from within. Armstrong mentally counted up nineteen floors. “Great. Is the target still up there?”

  Demond nodded but then slowly smiled. “Yes, but they’re planning on going to some pavilion in the park…hidden in Ratner’s car.”

  “Hidden? Are we blown?” Armstrong asked, concerned. They did not have enough people on the ground to cover all contingencies. The target was close and he didn’t want to lose him again; the first month of the hunt was embarrassing enough.

  Demond shook his head. “Not according to the FBI. They bugged the place two days ago. They’re sending us their files now.”

  Armstrong nodded, perhaps Demond was correct in using the local assets, still the operation was ordered black on black and it wouldn’t do to have the federal boys sniffing about too closely. Moments later they were looking at pictures of the target, Adam Dawkins, Christine Dawkins and Dr. Paula Ratner. There were also pictures of the Christine’s Honda and Ratner’s Jetta and of all things, a picture of the outside of Ratner’s apartment door.

  Armstrong shook his head. “Let our friends know we will be taking it from here,” he ordered not worried in the least that over half his team was still hours away, traveling with the trailer now just east of Tulsa. His strike team was with him and a few Chicago boys who traveled down with Agent Sommers. They could handle Dawkins and the women quite easily. “Tell them we appreciate their help, but their presence is no longer required.”

  Demond nodded, relayed the message, and as easy as that the gray van pulled from its parking spot and headed south along Skinker.

  “Alright,” Armstrong began once the van was out of sight. “How soon before the rest of the team arrives?”

  “At least seven hours,” Demond answered then pointed as Ratner’s car rounded the building. The woman paused a moment for traffic to clear and then turned north pulling away from the two black Escalades parked along the roadside.

  “Shit!” Armstrong said and after a quick decision, snapped. “Follow,” he added and pulled on his earpiece. “Follow discreetly,” he told the rest of the team.

  Demond signaled and steered the large vehicle out on the road a few cars back of the Jetta and followed. Another Escalade positioned farther down the street did likewise.

  “Not too close,” Armstrong said knowing that even though his team was not complete and they were short of manpower, this could be an ideal chance to snatch the target and be away without anyone being the wiser. He pulled out the keyboard of the onboard computer and did a quick search of the FBI files, wanting to know whether this Dawkins character carried a weapon, but there was nothing definitive either way. Armstrong was guessing he was armed and he would be treated as such. Dawkins was ex-military, Special Forces, and he seemed the type. They would not be taking him for granted.

  The Jetta only passed through two traffic lights then took a right into the park, which was large and though the streets were relatively well lit, there was a lot of dark space beyond.

  “We don’t have enough men for this,” Demond advised as he turned, maybe two hundred feet behind the Volkswagen. Despite the growing darkness the park had its share of joggers, bikers and people walking their dogs.

  They followed far enough back to appear innocent as Ratner took the first right up a large hill. They drove past the Art Museum and then down a hill and took a left on Government Drive.

  “This place is a maze,” Armstrong complained as they rolled slowly past one corner of the city zoo. He turned his attention back to the computer and within seconds he had a map of Forest Park on the screen. He glanced up just as the Jetta pulled to a stop alongside the curb, directly in front of a large fountain that shot water at least thirty feet into the air. Up the hill, there was a large, tan stucco building with a tile roof. The map on the computer said it was the World’s Fair Pavilion.

  “Drive on past,” Armstrong ordered and gazed intently into Ratner’s car as they went slowly by, knowing that because of the Escalades tinted glass no one on the outside could see in without pressing their face directly to the windows.

  “The target’s in the back seat,” he confirmed and turned back to the computer. “Continue on down. It looks as if we can turn back at the Boat House…whatever that is.”

  Moments later they were turning in the circular drive out in front of combination restaurant and boat rental, and were soon back on Government Drive heading toward the pavilion.

  As they drew closer they spotted the Dawkins’ group walking slowly up to the large fountain. They stopped and as the Escalade rolled by Armstrong watched as the colors of the fountain changed the water from red to blue to green.

  “Drive on by and take a left,” Armstrong said, reading the map and seeing that the road led up and around to the opposite side of the large building. If they could manage to be in place before Dawkins and his group reached the top it would make apprehending the target much easier than anticipated.

  “I don’t believe it,” Demond said as they drove on by, “they’re acting like a bunch of tourists.” The target paused to look at the fountain and the adults in the group were just standing around waiting for him. Armstrong smiled. They didn’t suspect a thing.

  “So much the better,” he said as the Escalade rolled smoothly up the hill.

  †

  Nico watched as the gray van pulled away and then a few minutes later he saw Ratner’s Jetta pull out of the apartment building. The two black Escalades followed. Nico shook his head. Lobotomies must be mandatory to work for the federal government.

  ‘Escalades,” Nico thought to himself, ‘and black at that…and if that wasn’t a dead giveaway, let’s use two for surveillance and park them together.’ Nico hated stupidity, and for the life of him couldn’t figure out why they didn’t just paste a big “Federal Agent” sign on the sides of both vehicles. It wouldn’t have made it much easier to spot them.

  ‘Well they’re not going to blow my chances again,” Nico decided and pulled out after them. He would follow along and seize the first good opportunity that presented itself. If he got a clean shot at the target he was going to take it, feds or no feds. Hell, it was only a matter of time before they bungled the entire operation and Dawkins and his group took off.

  Nico glanced down at his duffel bag as he followed. This might be his best chance and he wasn’t going to let them blow it, after all he had his reputation to think of.

  †

  “They’re coming,” Galen said as he finally turned away from the fountain. He began to sprint up the stairs that led up to the large multi arched pavilion, unmindful of the bag of peaches he was carrying. Adam carried the two other bags, much to Christine’s consternation. For the life of her she couldn’t figure out why her brother was indulging the boy.

  “The peaches are for the guardian angels,” Galen informed her when she’d asked about them. It was all so ludicrous. But despite the crazy nature of the situation she stood alongside Adam at the fountain and gazed u
p at the pavilion. The building was striking even in the dimming light of the evening and quite impressive from below with its cream colored walls and dark tiled roof.

  “Galen, stay close,” Adam yelled after him and began to follow quickly up the stairs. He was relieved to see that the gray van, which had been parked along Skinker the past few days was now gone. However, because he was so fixated on the van he completely missed the pair of dark Escalades parked across the street despite their obvious nature. He would have been far more anxious if he knew that they were now circling about the park…watching. The tension that had been building in his neck and shoulders dissipated somewhat now that the van was gone. Perhaps its presence was just a coincidence, but whatever the reason for its sudden departure, he was determined not to let his guard down prematurely.

  Adam could hear the two women running up behind him. Paula was wearing flat, hard soled shoes and her footfalls echoed loudly in the calm of the evening.

  Galen did not pause until he reached the large patio which sat in front of the pavilion. Adam reached it moments behind the boy and quickly scanned the area, which seemed to be devoid of other people at the moment. The pavilion was brightly lit, which helped Adam’s peace of mind immeasurably.

  “You should stay close,” he told Galen and was quite proud of the fact that he could speak plainly despite the run up the stairs. His daily exercise was paying off handsomely. Adam glanced down at the women, who were still fifty yards below and then his eyes swept out over the park. The pavilion commanded an impressive view of the surrounding area, which also helped ease the tension Adam was feeling. If they had to be outside in the dark, this might just be the place. It would be hard for anyone to sneak up on them…at least from the north side of the pavilion.

  “Can you feel it?” Galen asked as the two women finally climbed the last of the stairs to join them.

  “This is awesome,” Christine said looking about.

  “The air is thin. Can you feel it?” Galen asked again.

  Adam stared down at the boy bemused. Galen just smiled and held out his arms, he spun once then turned and stopped to look at Adam.

  “Can you feel it?” He asked once more.

  Adam nodded. He did feel something…something odd. Thin would not have been the word he would have used to describe the sensation, but the air around the pavilion felt different, very different. It was as if the entire place was electrically charged and it reminded him of a time long ago when he used to chase storms across the open plains of Iowa with his college buddies. Tom was with him during nearly every chase, and usually Keith and Tim would come along. There were even times when Mindy, Adam’s old college girlfriend, and her best friend Karen would occasionally join them. They were good times, full of laughs and adventure. Sometimes for half the night they would drive around the back roads of the state, hunting the big storms, hunting tornados, and while the activity was mostly social, what with the ever-present cooler of beer in the back seat, occasionally they actually managed to be in the right place at the right time.

  On one particular instance Adam remembered a group of them, amateur meteorologists all, had stopped along the side of a remote gravel road. They parked the car high on a hill overlooking an immense field of corn. The approaching storm was very dark and very threatening and heading directly for them.

  Adam remembered clearly that it was not yet raining even though the clouds overhead were very sinister and the air was thick with the promise of rain…a lot of rain. Despite the threat, they all piled out of Tom’s Vega, laughing and excited. They leaned against the car and watched the approaching storm. The wind was light at first and had a sharp smell to it. He remembered the girls had climbed onto the car’s hood and propped themselves up against the windshield, while he and Tom leaned against the front quarter panel. They were all drinking beer, talking and laughing, gazing out over the field of corn as the menacing wall cloud slowly moved their way. They were all hoping…and dreading to see a tornado, and as the storm grew closer their laughing chatter grew quiet, just like the birds and insects in the area.

  The air became very still, and it would have been almost peaceful, but for the ominous nature of the calm. Suddenly a massive bolt of lightning flashed out of the low swirling clouds and struck a tree not a hundred yards to the east. The blast was incredibly loud and so close that they could all feel the electric vibration coming through the metal body of the car. Adam clearly remembered the charged metallic smell that hung in the air. It had been so strong he could actually taste it on his tongue. They all jumped in fright at first and then scrambled into the safety of the car. Even now he could remember the smell of the lightning. The air around the pavilion carried the odor of ozone and power and it reminded Adam of that long ago day in Iowa, though the sky tonight was clear and full of stars.

  “Smells like a storm,” Adam remarked distantly.

  “Yeah,” Paula agreed with a shake of her head. “I remember once…” She stopped speaking and cocked her head. The air outside the pavilion felt strange.

  “Maybe we should head into the pavilion and get undercover,” Christine suggested glancing up into the night sky. She was surprised to see stars, but there was a storm coming she was certain of it.

  “Let’s head back to the car,” Paula countered, very uneasy. She suddenly didn’t want to go to the pavilion, didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

  “They’re coming,” Galen added with glee, a large smile plastered across his face.

  “Come on Paula,” Adam suddenly said, grabbing her hand and leading her up toward the lighted building. Paula changed her mind in a blink. If Adam was going to hold her hand, she’d walk through a hurricane.

  The pavilion was rectangular and completely open to the night air. Seven arches provided access to the interior along the long walls while three each led to a pair of enclosed rooms along the short sides. Everything was lit up and beautiful as they stepped beneath the large roof. Christine frowned, her uneasiness growing. The charged atmosphere seemed to be intensifying. She glanced quickly at her brother and then Paula. She could tell they both felt the same thing. The only person who seemed unaffected was Galen. He was smiling and spinning around, trying to take in every aspect of the pavilion.

  “Come here Galen,” Adam said sharply, the worry plain in his voice.

  Galen stopped his spinning and moved closer to the group. Paula went to Galen and put her hands on his shoulders and led him over to Adam. Something about the situation made Paula feel happy Adam was a man and that he was here with her. Fear was bubbling just below the surface. She wanted to leave this place and head back to the car and she could tell Christine was feeling much the same way.

  “Let’s go…” Paula suggested, but Galen shook his head.

  “Just stay right where you are,” a voice barked from out of the darkness. “Federal agents. Stay calm and no one gets hurt.” A large man in a black suit stepped out of the darkness and through one of the southern arches. Adam and Christine looked around wildly, but within seconds, nearly half a dozen men joined him in the light of the pavilion. They were surrounded.

  Galen ignored the men and broke off from Paula. “They’re coming!” He yelled excitedly and then suddenly several things happened at once.

  “Stop!” The man in the suit yelled with authority just as a far off pop sounded, an instant later Dr. Paula Ratner’s head exploded, showering Galen with large bits of bone and brains, drenching him with blood.

  Somewhere up the hill, Nico smiled, sang silent praises to God and hurriedly adjusted his sights for another shot.

  Chaos erupted in the pavilion.

  “Cease fire!” someone yelled.

  “Who the hell is shooting?” The man in the suit screamed and every agent began to move in on the boy.

  Christine screamed and then with a howl of wind and noise a large bridge sprang open on the north side of the pavilion, connecting Forest Park in St. Louis to the land of the Inland Sea.

  XV
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  “Few realize just what a burden it is to be favored by God.”

  Reverend Carter Heyworth

  March 13th 3218 Noble Island

  Arnot parried, feinted left, spun and struck a hard blow to the side of Caleb’s head sending the Palmerrio youth tumbling to the ground. The crowd erupted as Tar Lemont quickly moved between the opponents, separating them and allowing Caleb to collect himself and regain his feet. The seventh year boy did so but not without effort. Arnot spun his long wooden sword in his right hand to the delight of the crowd and when Lemont finally backed away Arnot moved in quickly realizing that Caleb was still a bit groggy. Somehow Caleb was able to knock Arnot’s initial attack aside and thrust forward in an unorthodox attack that nearly caught the Prince in the mid-section. Caleb was good; there was no disputing that fact, especially since the young man was currently leading Arnot six points to four in the finals of the long sword competition.

  Arnot leaped to the right to avoid the hit, he spun again and again struck Caleb hard, this time in the ribs. The boy went down once more, grimacing from the solid blow. Again cheers erupted from the crowd. The twins, and especially Avigail, with her early victory in archery, quickly became crowd favorites over the first few days of Competitions, but the enthusiasm for Arnot was mounting. He fought with grace and speed, but what truly endeared him to the crowd was his growing aggressiveness. Fast fighting with fast action was what the crowds wanted, and Arnot was learning quickly how to give it to them.

  Caleb climbed slowly to his feet and Arnot could plainly see the worry in his opponents face.