Shadowed

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  Jack read it and looked up. “Where’d this come from?”

  “Obviously nobody knows. But it looks like a universal broadcast.”

  “So what is it?” someone called out.

  “Yeah, come on. Read it.”

  Jack did, and Paul immediately recognized it. “Those are my notes on salvation,” he said. “Which tells me where it came from. I just hope the person who did this was careful.”

  “If this went to the whole world, we could see a revival,” Greenie said. “We wouldn’t even have to talk Jack out of Operation Noah.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Jack said. “Now, Paul, what on earth were you talking about?”

  * * *

  As soon as Ranold was back in his car he was on the phone to his secretary, instructing her to marshal his crack team of operatives. By the time he reached his office, the six, led by Bia Balaam, were waiting in a conference room. When he hurried in, they stood. Was it just his imagination, or had Bia been the last to stand?

  She looked terrible. Dressed impeccably, as usual, she still cast an imposing image, but her naturally olive skin appeared washed-out. Her eyes looked tired, her face drawn. It was as if she wore no makeup, and yet he knew her better than that. No way Commander Bia Balaam would appear in public, especially at work, looking other than her best. On the other hand, if this was her best . . .

  Clearly she was taking the loss of her son hard. That was the trouble with women, but Ranold had to admit he had not noticed compassion or sentiment in her before. She had been a top leader because she had the instincts of a man; Ranold was sure of it. He himself wasn’t beyond emotion, or at least a little melancholy, over the losses in his own family. But if he was honest with himself, he felt the estrangement from Jae more than any grief over Berlitz or his wife.

  He had already pretty much forgotten Berl. At least, he didn’t think about him much. Margaret was a different story, of course, but he chalked that up to the decades they had spent together, interacting every day. In truth, he had not found Margaret exciting or even attractive in the way, for instance, that he found Bia. In fact, if she could get beyond this preoccupation with her own troubles and regain that spark she once had, now that they were both available . . . perhaps she would not think him too old. He believed women were drawn to power and money, and he had plenty of the former and more than enough of the latter.

  25

  PAUL’S NEWS devastated the elders. Jack Pass dropped into a chair near Greenie and faced the group, addressing Paul in the back. “I believe that’s why God sent you to us. How would we have known otherwise?”

  Greenie was on to more practical matters. “I understand you can’t reveal details about this contact person, but you say they are in a position to know?”

  “Absolutely. Exposure to the highest levels of the opposition.”

  “And they’re aiming at a February 8 D-day, a week from this Friday. That begs the question: if they know where we are, what are they waiting for?”

  “The new NPO chief has another priority. A visit to Bern.”

  * * *

  Felicia was as giddy as Hector was scared. At least, he looked scared. She had run into him on the elevator at the start of the day, and he had immediately put a finger to his lips. His black eyes looked wide and terrified. She had found a reason to stroll by his cubicle on her way to a meeting, but as soon as he saw her, he looked away.

  Felicia wanted to tell him that his idea of also sending the missive to all the NPO computers had been no less than genius. Really, what a stroke! Besides taking the suspicion off anyone inside, it was already the talk of the place.

  Harriet Johns had called her in first thing. “Seen this yet?” Harriet said, waving a printout before Felicia had even sat.

  “What is it?”

  “Zealot underground propaganda. If you’re thinking about getting saved, here’s how.”

  Felicia looked at it and shook her head. “It’s nothing I need,” she said.

  “Me either, but it is a complicator. You’d be amazed at the number of people who will be influenced by this. I wouldn’t have thought so a month ago, but now? With all the unrest? With the turning tide of public opinion? I can’t think of worse timing for something like this.”

  “What will we do about it?” Felicia said.

  “Not much we can do but put our people on trying to trace it. The damage has been done though. There’s no trying to repack the parachute while you’re in the air.”

  Felicia shot the woman a double take. “Now there’s one I haven’t heard before.”

  “You like that? It’s yours.”

  “No thanks. You keep it.”

  * * *

  “You six have the highest level of security clearance in the history of the NPO,” Ranold said, watching for the bright-eyed response of pride. Seeing none, he pressed the point. “There are those who would advise me to interrogate you individually, to administer truth serum or lie-detector tests, to put it to you directly and be sure you’re still fully on board with the international loyalty initiative. But I don’t need that. I know you all well enough, personally and professionally, that if I didn’t trust you implicitly, you wouldn’t be here.”

  Finally, finally, a shuffling, some movement, posture changes, especially in the five men. They sat up straighter. They were the elite, the chosen, and they reveled in it. Well, Ranold thought, they ought to.

  “I have been invited to Bern for a private meeting with Chancellor Dengler, wanting to officially welcome me to this new position. I tell you only because this is your accomplishment as much as mine.

  “We’re still on schedule for the annihilation of the Columbia zealot underground complex, and I want from the attack side a full report of your plans, needs, timetable, and the like by a week from today. I will meet with the chancellor Friday and will be back in this office Monday, bright and early.

  “My understanding is that we have lost two men there, and that—if for no other reason—is enough justification to strike hard and fast and completely. One died, as he was a firstborn son, and the other, Commander Balaam tells me, was caught while reporting in and assassinated. Besides the death blow their side struck worldwide, we will have vengeance for our own.”

  Bia nodded wearily, and Ranold wondered if she was about to topple. During a break he took her arm and drew her close. “Here’s what else I need,” he said. “I understand there is a talisman related to being a member of this branch of the resistance. I want one of those, whatever it is.”

  “It’s a flat, white stone,” Bia said quietly.

  “And we have access to those?”

  “Of course. We have confiscated a few over the years.”

  “I would like that today.”

  Bia merely gazed back at him.

  “Is that doable, Ms. Balaam? Are you still with me?”

  “Yes, certainly. Sorry, sir. By the end of the day.”

  * * *

  “Well,” Greenie said, “I think that’s the end of Operation Noah and my plan.”

  “What was your plan?” Paul said.

  “Can we not get into this?” Jack said. “If you’re right, Paul, we’ve got to mobilize fast. We’ve got, in essence, a thousand men, women, and children to relocate, and to who knows where?”

  “Salt mines are the only option,” Greenie said. Many nodded, including Paul.

  “The question,” Paul said, “is whether they’re willing to take us. If not, we’ve got to parcel these people out to undergrounds in other regions.”

  “We’re going to need a lot of vehicles,” Greenie said.

  “The Demetrius money should make that easy,” Jack said. “No ‘appropriating,’ no changing VINs, no repainting. Just buy ’em under assumed names, do wonders for the Columbia economy, and get these people out of Dodge.”

  “I still want to know what Greenie’s plan was,” one of the men said.

  Jack shook his head and exhaled loudly. “He wanted
to use all our vehicles to create gridlock in the district.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “That wasn’t all,” Greenie said. “I also wanted to plug the Potomac, create our own little drought.”

  “Just to bug the authorities?”

  “C’mon! Give me a little credit. I had a whole plan, a whole scheme. It involved Fort McNair, which has a loading dock for the cars and service tunnels for all manner of mayhem. Isn’t there something in the Bible about how having faith without doing anything is like death?”

  “Something like that,” someone said. “But your plan still sounds like just a nuisance.”

  “Fine!” Greenie said. “Forget it! Can’t do it now anyway. Our priority has just been handed to us on a silver platter.”

  Paul couldn’t argue that. The time had come to return Bia Balaam’s call.

  26

  PAUL STAYED AFTER THE ELDER MEETING, along with Jack and Greenie. Jack looked as if he hadn’t slept for days, but then he always looked that way. He rested his elbows on a table and cradled his head in his hands. “So this is it then, eh?”

  “’Fraid so,” Paul said.

  “I mean, this contact is solid, right? Good as gold?”

  “This contact told me where we’re located, Jack.”

  “And are you sure it’s correct? You were rushed here during a personal crisis yourself.”

  “Please, Jack. I used to work in this city. I know where we are. My biggest worry is that we’ve got another infiltrator here, maybe more.”

  “Isn’t that something your contact can tell you?”

  “Let’s hope.”

  Jack put Greenie in charge of coordinating the mass exodus, still without knowing where they were going. “Isn’t that sort of important?” Greenie said.

  “Not yet,” Jack said. “We have to leave here—that’s certain. Which way we turn when we pull out of here isn’t crucial until the last minute. And if even we don’t know yet, it’s unlikely to leak, isn’t it?”

  Greenie nodded. “What do you need from me?”

  “Everything. All the logistics. How many vehicles, how many people, how we will account for them all, where we will send them—all that.”

  “And are we moving heavy stuff, equipment, computers?”

  Jack looked to Paul.

  “Only what we can manage,” Paul said. “Obviously, people are our priority.”

  “Obviously.”

  Jack sped Paul to the tech center, where the chief guy brought them up to date on the threat to the mainframe and examined Paul’s molar implants. “I’m 99 percent certain you’re clear,” he said.

  Paul glanced at Jack. “Normally I don’t like having even one percent hanging over my head, but under these circumstances . . .”

  “It’s your call,” Jack said. “Time’s a-wastin’.”

  “Borrow your cart?”

  “I’ve got business here anyway.”

  Paul raced to the end of the corridor, dialing Bia Balaam as he went. He was disappointed when her machine picked up. He hoped if she was there she would recognize his voice.

  “Commander Balaam, I’m finally getting back to you. You know where to reach me. Obviously, we need to talk soon.”

  “Don’t hang up, Paul.”

  “I’m here.”

  “Thanks so much for getting back to me.”

  “No problem, at least on that score. But I need to know—”

  “How and why you should trust me, I know.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Was I not specific enough?” she said. “Were you not convinced? Would you rather take your chances?”

  Paul heard weariness and resignation in her voice, but there was still that edge that told him if he chose to cross her, he could regret it.

  “As I said, I’m listening. Of course, if I were a suspicious man, I’d wonder if you misled me on timing. That would be a tragic mistake.”

  “You said it, Doctor. I’d wonder about that little detail. How long will it take to get a thousand people to safety?”

  Paul hesitated. How could she know so much? “Tell me, Commander, are there others inside I need to worry about?”

  “Fair question. If I were playing games with you, I’d let you wonder. Truth is, Agent Wipers was better than many ever gave him credit for.”

  “So you knew before you last talked to him.”

  “Yes. Did you like my question about whether he had ever figured out where he was? I assumed someone might be listening. Wasn’t sure it would be you. Please tell me his killing was a ruse.”

  “It was. Roscoe’s alive and well. Well, alive anyway.”

  “And our other man?”

  “If you knew where we were, Bia, Roscoe had to have already filled you in on the well-being of your other man.”

  “Yes, and knowing he was a firstborn, I figured as much. The only way he would still be alive would be if he had flipped on us.”

  “You understand more than I gave you credit for,” Paul said. “Now we need to talk.”

  “You’re wondering what’s behind all this.”

  “Only if there’s more than the message you left. Otherwise, you were pretty clear.”

  “Oh, Dr. Stepola.”

  Bia sounded so wounded, Paul didn’t know what to say. He waited her out.

  “I’ve never been a huge fan of your father-in-law, you know,” she said finally.

  “No, I didn’t know. You could have fooled me.”

  “He has his gifts; don’t get me wrong. But no. Scuttlebutt around the office is that he has pleaded for an audience with Dengler in Bern, but he tells us the chancellor has summoned him, ostensibly to congratulate him on his promotion to interim head of the NPO.”

  “Interim head? As of when?”

  “Today. This morning. But that isn’t the point.”

  “Yeah, I know. I got it. I’ve endured the man for years. So he’s going to see Dengler when?”

  “This Friday.”

  “How I’d love to be a bug on that wall.”

  “Wouldn’t we all? When he gets back he wants the attack stuff in place. I’ll keep you posted in the event he gets impatient. Here is one more tidbit though.” She told Paul about Ranold’s request for an identifying talisman.

  “You need me to get you one?” Paul said.

  “We’ve got ’em. Believe it or not, I still have Andy Pass’s.”

  “Seriously?”

  “He tossed it out during the chase, and some of my guys recovered it. It’s been a sort of keepsake. I thought I might offer it to you or to his daughter or brother some day. It would mean a whole lot more to one of you.”

  “Do me a favor, would you?” Paul said.

  “I guess we’re trading some fairly dire favors already.”

  “I guess we are. Could you put an identifying mark on whatever talisman you give Decenti? Put a scratch on the back of it so I know when it turns up here.”

  “What makes you think it’s going to turn up there?”

  Paul was taken aback by the question. “Well, what do you think he’s planning on doing with it? He isn’t trying to get someone else past our guards?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. But we don’t really need anyone else down there. We just need for no one to leak to you that the end is near so we can have everybody in one spot at the same time.”

  “I suppose you realize that if you’re to be trusted, you’re saving a lot of lives.”

  “It’ll never make up—”

  “Bia, tell me. Is it the loss of your son that’s caused this flip?”

  “That and a lot of other stuff. I have a brain, Paul. How can I come to any other decision?”

  “You know what you need to do now, don’t you?”

  “Of course.”

  “You do?”

  “I do. I got the e-mail like everybody else in the world.”

  “And . . . ?”

  “I may call you for clarification.”

&
nbsp; “You know where to reach me.”

  27

  THIS WAS A STRANGE, new experience for Paul. Keeping top-secret stuff even from his wife had never been an issue. He had not been tempted. She didn’t need to know, wouldn’t want to know, and there was nothing but downside to telling her anyway.

  But now, now that they shared a common faith and were truly in love with each other as never before, well, this was different. And yet Paul had agreed with Jack and Greenie and the rest of the elders that no one else was to know the true situation yet.

  There were too many elders to expect it to remain a true secret, and suspicion would grow when Greenie and his assignees started asking logistical questions. Who wouldn’t wonder what was going on if they were asked what might be crucial to take along and what might be left behind in a pinch?

  Paul found his first inclination was to pull Jae aside and start her thinking about their own details. How lightly could they pack? How would they keep it from the children? Was it possible the kids could embrace this as an adventure too, or were Paul and Jae asking too much?

  But Paul resisted even mentioning it, and he was stunned at how difficult that was. He wasn’t worried about Jae being offended later when it would come time to tell her. She had simply become his most trusted confidante nearly overnight, and it frustrated him to keep her out of this loop.

  It became doubly difficult for him when she told him of her phone call to Aryana. Jae was just short of purple with rage. “Daddy allowed Aryana to have a memorial service for Berl, and I was not even informed.”

  “You couldn’t have gone anyway, hon.”

  “I know that, Paul, but he was my brother! I would like to have known, to have been thinking about him when they were. And Daddy has my cell number. He could have called, could have tried to say the right things.”

  “Now you’re dreaming.”

  She shot Paul a look, and he realized she didn’t need his editorializing. She didn’t want this fixed. She wanted to be heard.

  “I’m sorry, babe,” he said. “You’re right. It’s unconscionable that you were not at least told. Why didn’t Aryana call?”