by Ted Dekker
“But you could go down there now and ask him for a scenario in which we could take over the world, so to speak, and you’re saying he could give you one?” the general asked.
J.P. frowned and nodded. “If there was a way now. And if he wanted to give it to us.”
“That’s not the point! The point is he actually has that capability?”
“That’s what we’re saying, yes. It sounds a bit James-Bondy, but I’m sure he could just as easily tell us how to shift power in the Middle East, say, or neutralize China, at least in the next three hours.”
The general was beginning to understand what they had here, Clive thought.
“As I was saying,” Garton said, “the two scenarios Seth saw this morning included hundreds of thousands of American casualties. He’s trying to figure out how to conduct a similar campaign that returns zero casualties, using mostly conventional weapons. That means he’s directing hundreds of battle groups, feeding each one precise orders. It’s tantamount to giving every field commander specific directions and then telling every soldier when to duck and when to fire.”
Clive knew men like the general well enough to realize that Smites was already thinking about both sides of this equation.
“So basically we’re looking at the most powerful man in the world,” Smaley said, sober now.
“And the most dangerous,” Smites said.
Indeed.
The general shook his head, still staring through the glass at Seth.
“This is unbelievable. You’re absolutely sure all this is possible?”
“Two days ago I would have said no,” Garton said. “But hard data doesn’t lie.”
“Has anybody ever shown this kind of clairvoyance before?”
“Well . . . not that we’ve been able to quantify. I’m quite sure this kind of ability to see into so many futures all at once and to see them only for a short time out has at least never been recorded. This is a first.”
“Phenomenal.”
Clive decided it was time to throw the wet blanket on their fire.
“There is a slight problem. At least some might consider it a problem. His clairvoyance is . . . changing. It’s become cyclic.”
“It comes and goes,” J.P. said, as if the others needed the clarification.
“It started four days ago, while he was still with Miriam,” Clive said. “His ability to see began to expand beyond their immediate concerns, but it also became intermittent. Every few hours he regresses.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning when he sees, he sees a whole lot, but his clairvoyance only lasts a few hours. It’s almost like his batteries wear out, and he needs a few hours of rest to recharge them. At first the periods of blindness were short. He says he made some mistakes out in the desert. But with each passing day they seem to be lasting longer.”
“How long do we have?” Smaley asked.
Clive rubbed his bloodshot eyes. “It’s not like we can go to the local library and get a book on how to sustain clairvoyance, Peter. It could last his entire life, or it could be gone tomorrow. Ask him and he’ll tell you it’s on the way out.”
“Based on what?”
“Based on the fact that Miriam is now safe. He believes his gift was tied to her.”
“We should proceed as though he will lose the ability at any time,” J.P. said.
“You’re recording what he’s doing?” Smites asked.
“Yes.”
“Then we could create models from his work, right? They would at least give us scenarios to study. Like creating histories that we can learn from.”
“Yes.”
“Or we could actually use Seth now,” Smaley said. “Feed him a real scenario without telling him. Feed his directives to the battlefield as he enters them and execute them in real time.”
“He would see what we’re doing,” Clive said. “Now that you’ve mentioned it, he probably already sees it as a possible future, if only subconsciously.”
The general shook his head and grunted. “I have to make some calls, gentlemen. Keep me informed.” He walked out, leaving them to watch.
Clive’s thoughts returned to a lingering problem. One he wasn’t of a mind to speak aloud. The problem was Seth. Seth was no ordinary man, with or without this sight of his. He had a mind of his own, and Clive was sure it was occupied by more than how the United States might take over the world.
chapter 30
to Seth, the barrage of futures far outstripped his capacity to single out any specific one. Still his mind handled it without conscious effort. At least most of his mind.
The other part was consumed by Miriam.
The part playing these games was in an autopilot of sorts, albeit an intense autopilot. He supposed the process was not unlike the mind’s control over involuntary bodily functions. His fingers seemed to follow their own will, striking the keyboards with commands that isolated the future he wanted.
The part consumed with Miriam slogged through an abyss of pain. Her face had parked itself in his mind’s eye and refused to budge, no matter what tricks he threw its way. He had known long before they reached Las Vegas that he was falling for her, but he assumed that once she was safely out of his life, his good sense would make quick work of her. He was an intelligent man, after all, not given to emotional reasoning. It seemed his heart had betrayed his mind.
Yes, he was in love with her. Not just love, as in it’s-springtime-I-think- I’m-in-love love, but Love, as in pass-the-poison-I-must-die-without- you love. This new beast presented a more difficult challenge than any he’d ever encountered.
He had thrown himself at the games because he agreed to, but also because he needed to. They provided a necessary distraction. From her face. From her long black hair, shimmering in the desert heat. From her lips kissing him, and her eyes winking at him across the roulette table, and her throaty laugh as he spun her through an absurd dance in her hotel room. From Miriam, the bronzed princess who had swept into his life on the winds of—
Seth slammed both fists on the keyboards. Stop it! He looked at the lower right monitor. A box in the upper right-hand corner. Casualties sustained = 0.
And there was also this gnawing awareness of his gift’s source that wouldn’t let him go. This madness about God.
Seth lifted both hands and rubbed his temples. The seeing had sustained itself for four hours already. Soon it would release him for a reprieve before returning again in all its fury.
The door opened behind him. “You okay?”
He closed his eyes, then opened them. The casualty box had changed. 3. You see, you lose your concentration for a few seconds and see what happens? You’re killing people.
“I’m fine,” he lied.
Clive stepped in. The casualty numbers started climbing. 100. 300. 700.
“Take a break,” Clive said.
Why not? He’d blown the simulation anyway. Seth nodded.
Clive led him to a break room near the back of the complex.
“Coffee?”
“Advil,” Seth said.
Clive tossed him the bottle from the counter and poured himself a cup of coffee.
“I don’t know how long I can go like this,” Seth said, dropping into a chair. “I’m not sure which hurts more, my mind or my fingers.”
“Any changes?”
“Yeah. About three seconds ago. I found my sanity again.”
Clive looked at him over the rim of the mug. “So right now you can’t see—”
“Right now I’m as blind as a bat. Futuristically speaking, that is. And if I could take a drug that would keep me here, in the land of the blind bats, I would take it intravenously.”
Clive sat back and sipped his coffee. “I’m not sure I blame you.” He paused. “The Saudis are having a fit about Hilal’s death. The State Department told Abdullah your theory that Miriam was supposed to marry Omar as a part of a deal with Sheik Al-Asamm.”
Seth glanced at the NSA operative. �
�They’re just hearing that now? That’s not a theory—it’s Miriam’s testimony. Do they know where she is?”
“Evidently not. And in their eyes the testimony of a woman doesn’t hold water against the word of a prince.” Clive shrugged. “Besides, it’s a moot point now. Miriam’s been saved by Samir. Remember? Even if there was a planned marriage, it’s off now.” Clive lifted his eyebrows.
“So why are the Saudis having a fit?”
“They’re accusing us. Abdullah’s hold on power is tentative enough without rumors of a coup floating around.” He coughed. “In honesty, I think they don’t know what to believe. But they can’t just arrest a prince and kill a sheik based on a woman’s word. Doesn’t work that way in the House of Saud.”
“I’m not sure it is a moot point,” Seth said, looking down at his fingers. They were red. He touched the tips. Maybe bruised.
“And why not?” Clive said. “Miriam’s gone, right? You turned her over to Samir. No one knows where they are, but wherever it is, it isn’t Saudi Arabia. He’d be a fool to take her there. They’re probably holed up in Spain under false names about now.”
“Seems sensible. But there’s only one problem.” Seth wasn’t sure how to say this. Wasn’t even sure he believed it.
“And that would be?”
“That would be . . .” He frowned. “I can’t get her out of my mind.”
Clive sat back and sighed. “The curse that follows beautiful women—”
“It’s more than that!” Seth caught himself and looked away. “I can’t get her out of my mind. What does that tell you?”
“That you’re in love with her?”
“Or maybe it means that whoever put her in my mind hasn’t taken her out. Maybe for a reason.”
Clive picked up a walnut off the table and began polishing it with his thumb. “Really? And who might that be?”
Seth stood at that most awkward juncture sometimes referred to as the moment of truth. He had been here many times over the course of his mind’s travels. The road forked before him. One road, the beaten path, required that he explain himself only in terms familiar to Clive. This road excused him from taking the man out to a cliff, where they could glimpse a breathtaking vista of new ideas. The other road, the one that led to said cliff, required that he actually try to make Clive understand.
For the most part, Seth always found the latter to be a painful experience. Perhaps similar to a woman’s pain during childbirth. Considering the subject, he found nothing to suggest this time might somehow be different.
On the other hand, Clive was a clever fellow. And the idea was begging to be birthed.
“You’re pretty sharp, Clive. Don’t ask me to explain now, but today I know a few things I didn’t know yesterday. I know that everything we do changes the future. I know that something out there called God changed my future in the desert. Do you realize the implications of this, Clive?”
“Tell me.”
“Prayer may just be the most powerful tool mankind has.”
Seth sat back. His own words sounded absurd to him. Imagine the Berkeley faculty’s reaction to that. Our brightest student has just lost his mind.
“What I’m trying to say is, there’s a whole other dimension out there, and I feel like I’m drowning in it. It’s a gift. But now it seems we have a problem.”
Clive set the walnut back on the table. “You’re losing that gift.”
“But I still have it. Which means that I still need it.”
Clive sat still, eyeing him. “Don’t let your infatuation with a girl—”
“I’m not. But I think Miriam may still be in trouble. And that, my friend, isn’t merely about my love for a woman. It’s about the stability of Saudi Arabia and the Middle East. It’s about the future of America, far beyond what I can see with this gift of mine.”
chapter 31
miriam sat in a beach chair beside the villa’s pool, overlooking the beautiful Madrid skyline, drawing delicately on a tall banana daiquiri, feeling as vacant as a dry lake bed.
Samir had brought her here, to this wonderful city in which they first spent time alone. To her surprise, no one interfered with their trip. Although he had false identification for her, she expected his own name to raise questions at the borders. But they cleared customs without the slightest delay.
The reunion was wonderful in so many ways—she was once again with the guardian of her youth, the man who represented freedom and love. That alone was enough.
Samir treated her with a measure of aloofness during the trip—he was, after all, a Saudi citizen traveling in the open with a woman. But she was confident that as soon as they arrived at their final destination, which she assumed to be Madrid, the flowers of love would once again bloom.
They had been in this grand villa for two days now, and Samir was gone, “tending to their future,” he’d said. Miriam wondered what that meant.
Seth would know.
A passing grin drifted across her face. Her mind had flitted to Seth a hundred times since leaving him in the casino. She’d become a different person in his company. He was like a fragrant aroma that had swept into her life and revived her from a living death. Delightful and intoxicating.
Your material needs are my spiritual needs. She believed they were. Had been, anyway.
When she allowed herself to listen to the quiet voices of her heart, they told her that she’d been sick to leave him. Yes, sick—the kind of sickness that comes from having a hole in your heart.
But that was nonsense, because how could she have a hole in her heart while she was with Samir? Who was Seth but a conflicted American who’d stumbled into her life?
And he was Jewish. Or his grandmother had been. Not that it mattered now.
“Would you like another drink, madam?”
She looked up at the servant who’d approached from her right. “No, but thank you.” Even her voice sounded vacant, she thought.
The servant dipped his head and walked away. Miriam glanced back at the courtyard for Samir. A friend owned the villa. They were here for her protection. That’s all Samir would tell her. Not that it mattered; she was here in his care and she trusted him. He’d been mostly absent since their arrival, returning only for dinner, because he was arranging a secret future for them. Perhaps a journey to an island, or a city in southeast Asia.
There was no sign of Samir now, and she settled back into her chair.
Seth wouldn’t have left her alone by the pool, would he? He would have taken her with him to choose their future together. Please, Miriam, you cannot compare Seth and Samir. You’re comparing a rose to a Mercedes. They’re incomparable.
For most of the trip, she’d successfully buried the images that kept trying to resurrect themselves. But here by the pool with hours to waste, she found herself powerless to resist them. Memories of Seth hauling her onto the toilet, and dropping from the vent over her bed, and praying with arms raised before his hasty altar, and leaning over the roulette wheel, pretending to be a lucky fool. If anyone else had done these things, she would think him a fool. But Seth was her rose in the desert. Her savior.
Perhaps one day, if Samir would agree, they would go to the United States and find him. They both were in his debt. Miriam for her very life and Samir for his bride-to-be.
Miriam rolled to one side, heart aching. Think of the future, Miriam. Think of the freedom before you.
But sadness swept over her instead, and she could not stop the tears that swelled in her eyes. How could these memories bring her so much pain? Why couldn’t she just wipe him from her mind and indulge in her new freedom?
Seth, Seth. My dear Seth, what have I done?
“Miriam.”
She jerked up. Samir approached, dressed in a blue suit and dark glasses. She dabbed her eyes.
“We have to leave. Your clothes are waiting in your bedroom. Our flight leaves in one hour. Please hurry.”
Miriam stood, alarmed. “Our flight? To where?”
“I’m going to see my father? How? I thought—”
“You can’t be married without your father’s blessing,” he said, smiling.
Married? Yes, of course, but would the sheik change his mind and bless this marriage? That couldn’t be right! “My father’s future depends upon my marriage to Omar! Now he’s agreed to our marriage?”
“You think your father is so heartless?”
“But, I thought . . .” She didn’t know what to think.
“Hurry, Miriam. The plane is waiting.” Samir walked away.
His blessing! And why not? She watched Samir—the suit looked good on him. He was not himself, she thought. He’s about to be married; what do you expect?
Miriam flew to her bathroom, thoughts of Seth vanquished by this turn of events. She showered quickly, strung with nervous energy. It was Egypt to be sure. The sheik had gone ahead to Cairo and made the preparations. She was to be married to Samir in Egypt!
She ran to the bedroom. Married! Her suitcase lay open, already packed. And Samir had laid a black gown over the pillows for her to wear. He was thinking of his bride already. She took two steps toward the bed and froze.
It was an abaaya. And a veil.
The sight of it made her think only of Omar.
Trembling, she pulled on a dress from the suitcase and ran from the room. She found Samir standing at the large picture window, hands in pockets, staring out at the pool.
“Samir! There is—”
“You must wear it, Miriam.” He turned and she saw that his jaw was set. It softened. “Please, we are going to meet your father. Surely you know that he must approve. Are you thinking to throw out everything you hold dear and chase the American way? This is what that man has done to you?”
For the first time, she heard anger in his voice, anger directed at her, and it terrified her. He was talking about Seth. Did Samir suspect anything? He was wounded.
“No.” She took a step toward him. “No, Samir. But this is not Saudi Arabia.”
“But your father is a Saudi. Put it on.”
