Prophecy

by Paula Bradley

  Hoping to lighten the mood, she said brightly, “For my final number, I tried to take a thirty foot van and condense it into the size of a ten foot Honda. I failed.”

  For a moment there was silence ... and then Stephen began to chuckle. She might not look like the sister he had known for all her thirty years, and she might do things she had never done before, but her sense of humor hadn’t changed.

  Glad that he was more relaxed, she said, “Now, as to how I’m able to keep this shape: I haven’t changed shape, you just think I have. Picture an illusionist; he plants an idea in your head and you see what he wants you to see. You see what I want you to see which, is David Paradise. Look at me now.”

  Stephen glanced sideways. It was Mariah who now sat beside him. He shook his head and faced forward again. “Okay, but this is one-on-one. How are you going to hypnotize all the people you’re going to come in contact with?”

  Mariah wasn’t smiling any longer. In her raspy voice, she said softly, “I can take a small part of my brain, program a subliminal message in it that runs continuously, and have it implant itself into the subconscious of anyone who comes within a radius of about a mile.”

  They spent the rest of the trip in silence. The neutrality in her voice spoke volumes ... and it was almost more than he could comprehend. Mariah Adele Carpenter could do things no other human on earth could do, and he knew it frightened her. No, he amended, he thought it frightened her. He would not say it out loud—the implication was just too freakish—but the more she changed (mutated)the more he saw differences in the way she handled herself.

  And when, if ever, were the changes going to stop?

  #

  Ten minutes later, they arrived at the airport and Stephen pulled up to the international departure terminal. He turned and stared into the face of David Paradise as his eyes welled with tears. In a voice gruff with emotion, he said, “Remember this, sweetheart; no matter what you do or what you look like or sound like, I will always, always, love you. And when you and Thomas come back from your adventure, I demand you two leave that monastery on Mastenhege and come live with me. To hell with the FBI or the CIA or the news media or anyone else. It’s time you stopped hiding like you’ve done something wrong.” He reached across the console and took her hand. It might look like Paradise’s hand but it was hers, and he held it tightly. “Good luck, Bubble-Butt. I’d plant a big, wet, sloppy one on you, but Murphy’s Law says that just as I did it, someone I know will walk past the car and tell everyone who knows me that they saw me kissing a man at the airport!”

  She squeezed his hand. “Thanks, Stephen. Your offer really means a lot to me.” Shaking off her somber mood, she said crisply, “Tell mom and dad nothing. The more I think about it, the more I think Michael’s right. Super Snoop will have to keep my disappearance a secret for as long as he can, so I don’t think you’ll see any headlines about me being kidnapped. Don’t even tell Judith, she doesn’t need to worry needlessly. I should be back in less than a week. And thanks for all your help.

  “I’m off!” She leaped out of the car and retrieved the suitcase from the back seat. With a last wave, she trotted into the terminal and disappeared in the crowd.

  #

  Mariah headed for the nearest men’s room. Luckily, she found only one man inside standing at a sink whistling tunelessly while he guided an electric razor over his face. Since all the stall doors were open, she chose the one furthest from him.

  She laid the non-descript suitcase across the toilet seat and rummaged in the paper bag. Pulling out a passport, she grinned when she opened it. Thomas Raphael had a lot of friends in the field of photography. One in particular was “in the business of creating alternate identities” as he put it. This contact was also a graphic artist which made his work nearly undetectable to the trained eye.

  Unzipping the outside compartment of the suitcase, she removed a round mirror and held it up so she could look at David Paradise’s cheery face. Abruptly his image disappeared—and in its place was a completely different man with cocoa brown eyes and sandy colored hair. Her eyes shifted from the passport photo to the mirror until she was satisfied that the face in the mirror looked exactly like Dennis Roberts, the man who smiled up at her from the passport.

  She put the mirror back then unzipped the main compartment, removing a pair of men’s blue twill pants, long sleeved white shirt and dark blue sports jacket. A testimonial to Stephen’s shopping abilities; he had found men’s clothing to fit her. Thank heavens she remembered that the illusion of being a man would fall apart if she was not able to interact with her clothing. Mariah shed her own garments, threw them into the suitcase, and quickly donned the new ones.

  Dropping the passport into the left inside pocket of the sports coat, she then removed a leather billfold from the inside right pocket. Opening it flat on the suitcase, she retrieved the money from the paper bag, slid the bills into the billfold and returned it to the right coat pocket. Satisfied, she extracted Michael’s note from the brown paper bag and put it into the same pocket that held the passport then crumpled up the now empty paper bag, tossing it into the suitcase’s main compartment. Zipping it shut, she quietly lifted the suitcase off the seat, adding some authenticity by flushing the toilet.

  Taking a deep breath, she unlocked the stall door and stepped out—and nearly collided with the whistler who was on his way out the door.

  He stopped momentarily to let her pass in front of him. With a frown, he watched Mariah wash her hands at the sink. She tried to avoid his stare, hoping her nonchalant expression belied the fluttering in her stomach.

  Chapter 43

  He continued to stare. Just when Mariah was sure he was going to speak, a police officer entered the men’s room. She left unhurriedly, sure that the whistler would realize how insane he’d sound if he told the officer that he had seen one man enter the stall but a different one came out.

  At 2:45 pm, Mariah boarded the flight to Frankfurt, Germany. Once she ran the subliminal message—the illusion of Dennis Roberts—to all on the plane, she fell into a deep sleep that lasted several hours. When she awoke, the flight attendants complied with her request for food. During the next eight hours she read, watched a couple of movies, and devoured several more meals.

  #

  The plane landed at the Frankfurt Airport at ten thirty the next morning. Even though she had made it out of the country, Mariah didn’t feel completely safe. If Gabriel had sounded the alarm, there would be CIA agents posing as German police waiting to check out every passenger from the United States. She avoided everyone’s eyes, especially those who looked like government employees, but her concern was unfounded. Mariah breezed through customs, handing her passport over to the officials for their inspection.

  Thomas was waiting in the international lounge. He stood up when she entered, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he grabbed her in a bear hug.

  “Welcome, Dennis!” his voice boomed out boisterously, his grin widening when she scowled. “Did you have a pleasant flight?”

  “Quit it you big dummy, you’re drawing attention to us,” she hissed between clenched teeth as she tried to keep from laughing at his outlandish appearance. Not wanting to take any chances, Mariah had insisted he travel incognito, but was not happy with his choice of blond wig and matching mustache. When she pointed out that his skin was too swarthy and his eyes too dark to be a natural blond, he reminded her that it was the twenty-first century, and men now dyed their hair. And furthermore, he “wanted to see if blonds really did have more fun.”

  She’d given in with a martyred sigh. Now, seeing him under the fluorescent lights, she was convinced that he looked like a pathetic gigolo on the prowl for rich, elderly women.

  #

  An hour later they boarded a DC-10 for the last leg of their journey. Thomas tried his best to help her relax, but her anxiety kept bubbling to the surface. And it got progressively worse as they neared their des
tination. An hour before the jet started its descent, Thomas almost had to forcibly restrain her from leaping out of her seat.

  All he could do was hold her hand and offer his silent support. As the plane landed, the sign on the terminal building welcomed them to Bole Airport, Addis Ababa. It was 9:45 pm when Mariah entered the terminal with Thomas one step behind.

  She stood off to the side. Her hands were folded in front of her as she stared straight ahead. The sound of people saying tearful goodbyes to those departing and crying out joyously when they spotted those arriving faded from her consciousness. She was even unaware of Thomas pacing restlessly in front of her, protectively keeping people away.

  Fifteen minutes after the plane landed, a young African approached them dressed in a starched white uniform and a cap braided with gold cord. He bowed before Mariah, nodding as she came out of her reverie.

  “Welcome to Ethiopia, Mr. Roberts. I am the pilot who will take you to your hosts. Please follow me.”

  Chapter 44

  The Chief stared into Winters’ eyes. There was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the air conditioning.

  “Let me understand this: she’s gone. Just walked out of the house in broad daylight. With six agents and you on the premises. Diversion or not, I’m a ... tad puzzled. Weren’t you able to see through her ruse? And I am, shall we say, amazed that you decided not to lock down the city immediately. You may as well have held the door open for her.”

  While his eyes were on the Chief, Winters could see the other three in his peripheral vision nodding their assent.

  With great effort, he kept his jaw muscles relaxed. He’d be damned if he would let them see how furious he was. Sanctimonious bastards. They were all the same, all the devious, scheming, advancement-hungry agents jockeying for position, scrabbling up the ladder on the ruins of those they could politically annihilate.

  Like the three that were supposedly on his team. They smiled and yessed you to death until someone of a higher authority disagreed with what you did. And then, like a pride of female lions salivating at the stumbling of their prey, they circled and waited—waited for their leader to draw first blood.

  However, Gabriel Winters was not about to give them the satisfaction of an easy kill. He was no lumbering wildebeest culled from the herd to be ignominiously brought down by ruthless killers. Nevertheless, he needed to proceed cautiously: one sign of weakness, one slightly off-balanced step, and they would be at his jugular.

  “I admit I made mistakes, mostly in underestimating Ms. Carpenter’s capabilities,” Winters said, pleased that his tone of voice sounded unperturbed. He noted that the Chief’s eyes slightly widened. He had obviously not expected an admission of negligence. While the pride was momentarily caught off guard, the wildebeest lowered its head, the better to let them see how deadly were its horns.

  “My decision was based on keeping her disappearance out of the headlines. The press would demand to know why we were so anxious to get her back: were we hiding something? Did she pose a security risk? And how did she get away ... vaporize into thin air? I felt that speculation of this sort would cause panic.”

  The temperature in the room thawed a few degrees and Winters continued with more confidence. “Our scientific staff studied every scrap of information they have on Ms. Carpenter. They can’t come to a unanimous conclusion because they’ve never seen anything like this before. They fed copious amounts of data into a computer that will predict future changes based on what she’s done so far. Reluctantly, because they didn’t have the time to study further, they accepted the computer’s theory that there’s a sixty-five percent probability that she’s created an illusion of another person. And is holding it through subliminal mind manipulation.

  “They were stunned. No one could have foreseen that she could metamorphose into an agent so she could get out of the house. And now? Who knows what she looks like.

  “Besides, there’s no need to worry. She’ll be back.”

  Someone shifted ... a good sign. It meant they were becoming uncomfortable. Winters smiled to himself as he waited for the leader of the pride to digest this information. The score: lions–1, wildebeest–1.

  “Interesting.” The previously glacial tone of the Chief’s voice was melting. “I should remember just how analytical you are. We never meant to imply that you were derelict in your duties. After all, this is an extremely unusual case that has no precedence.

  “Okay, so she’s gone. Where do we go from here?”

  Winters finally smiled at the Chief and received a small nod in return. The Old Man needed more assurances, but it was obvious he was back to being vindicated in his choice of a protégé.

  “No problem,” Winters said, his arrogance returning. “As I said, she’ll be back. If my calculations are correct, it should be within the next few days. And she will contact me.”

  He heard a faint sigh, probably a rebuke at his egotism. The lions were losing heart. The wildebeest was proving to be a whole lot more nimble with a tougher hide than anticipated.

  He steepled his fingers and leaned back in his chair. It was time to drive the pride off with their tails between their legs. “It’s important that we understand why Mariah Carpenter destroyed the van. She didn’t need a diversion to get away. She was never a prisoner; she could have left any time. In the beginning, the house and the guards were for her protection. However, everyone knows she’s quite capable of taking care of herself. She continued to stay with some story about the police protecting her parents. She is more than capable of protecting them, far better than even ten men with guns.

  “Why she really continues to stay in that house is somewhat of a mystery.”

  He paused. Someone coughed. They wanted this to be over.

  Perversely, he waited thirty seconds before continuing, his eyes going to each one at the table. He was back in control and they knew it.

  “She fried the van for two reasons. Mainly, as payback for us spying on her. And then because she wanted everyone to know how extraordinarily powerful she’s become. Now it’s obvious why she was exploding those smaller rocks: practice. I didn’t fully appreciate what she had to do to blow the van until I talked to the experts. It’s beyond belief, almost mystical. They nearly all concluded that she might, in the future, be able to rearrange her molecular structure. If so, she could disappear and reappear anywhere. Even on another planet.”

  The group drew in their breath collectively. They mentally braced for the rest of what he had to say, knowing they were not going to like it.

  “Dr. Jasenovic spent fifteen minutes attempting to explain natural energy in the universe but finally gave up, admitting that even scientists don’t fully understand what happens let alone try to explain it to a layman. Dr. Nishikawa jumped in at that point with a simple statement. She said: ‘Mariah Carpenter can psychically manipulate energy at the subatomic level.’ When I asked how, Nishikawa just shook her head and said, ‘We can’t answer that. We only know that, at the subatomic level, the boundary between existence and non-existence cannot be clearly defined.’”

  The silence was weighty with unease. No one moved. They barely breathed. It was impossible. Absurd. The stuff that made for great special effects in the movies, but wasn’t supposed to be real.

  Chapter 45

  Winters had one more piece of fantastical news; he hoped no one would call him on it. “The good news is that Ms. Carpenter never planned to disappear permanently. Even if we believe that she’ll keep up the illusion of being someone else forever in order to blend in with the masses, she’ll still be finding kidnapped children and drug dealers and murderers, and there would go her cover.

  “No. She constructed this elaborate scheme so she would not be followed.” Gabriel’s voice dropped to a low, confidential tone as he leaned forward.

  “Bottom line: she doesn’t want us to know where she’s gone.” It was more than enough for them
to handle; however, several questions remained unanswered. And trust the Chief to ask them.

  “How do you know all this? And what is she going to do while she’s away? And why would she contact you? Her message was crystal clear. I’d venture to say she’s tied you and your government affiliation together in one tidy package of hate. You’re just lucky she didn’t turn that rage on you.”

  Without hesitation, Winters replied, “How do I know this? Intuition. And maybe she planted all this in my mind. She can do it if she wants to. That’s all I can tell you.

  “Of course I was initially concerned for my life even though I saw her hold back until Bellini and French were out of harm’s way. But maybe it was in the way she looked at me before she strolled back into the house, combined with what my head told me.”

  His suppositions seemed to mollify them. Gabriel didn’t need intuition to tell him she was on her way home because last night she told him so.

  He had finally fallen asleep. In what he assumed was a dream, he found himself sitting on a crumbling brick wall on Calhoun Street overlooking the old basketball court where he shot hoops as a teenager. It was unnerving. He thought those memories forever buried, along with the bullet riddled body of his older brother, Lawrence.

  Mariah sat beside him, dangling her bare legs over the wall. He asked questions and she ignored them. He telepathically received the facts: she would return and would call him. She also forced him to feel the rage in her heart at his betrayal, the hurt his mistrust generated in not believing she would have let the scientists test her if he’d been up front from the beginning. And finally, the gut wrenching misery at the unnecessary loss of her friend, Frannie Manzetti.

  For the first time in over three decades, Gabriel Winters felt regret. The bad streets of Chicago had taught him not to trust anyone but himself. The military had taught him how to work with a group but, in the end, to rely on no one but himself. Being a lawyer had taught him to camouflage his emotions, how to lie and deceive, and how to play the game to get what he wanted. And the CIA? They just reinforced his previous lessons in self-reliance, paranoia, and deception.