The three of them sat silently watching, listening to the man on the screen. When it finished, Keene was already fidgeting in his chair. The president held up his hands and continued.
“I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Keene. I can assure you. I’m taking it seriously now. But do you even know how many letters like this the White House gets every day?”
Keene didn’t answer. He did know.
“Usually,” Grant continued, “these don’t even see the light of day. Someone sends them over to the FBI, and that’s that. If there’s a credible threat, I get a briefing and we move forward.”
“But these did.” It was Taylor.
“Yes, Ms. Taylor. But not because someone over at your agency thought they deserved special attention. These three letters”—he reached out and took them back—”never made it to any agency.”
“I don’t understand,” Taylor said.
“Four months ago, I came downstairs, as I always do, and met Chief of Staff Hardy in the hallway. As we always do, we walked to the Oval Office and I listened as he gave me a brief summary of the day’s events. Then, as is my routine, I went into the office, where I spend fifteen minutes every morning in prayer and reading my Bible. As I sat down at the desk, I noticed this”—he singled out the first envelope—”sitting in the middle of my desk.
“Naturally, I flipped it open and read it. As you saw, it was a warning. I don’t know why, but I decided not to say anything then.”
“With all due respect, sir,” Keene said, “that was irresponsible.”
“I’m well aware of that, Mr. Keene.” The president’s glance was a warning. “Usually, the first thing I would do is call Lewis Hardy in here and begin asking questions. For some reason, one that I cannot explain right now, I didn’t feel the need to take it any further. I placed the letter inside my jacket pocket, and two minutes later my first appointment walked through the door.”
“What about the others?” Taylor asked.
“The second one came in the same way—I found it on my desk. One month later, to the day.”
Keene raised his eyebrows and blew out a long, loud breath.
Grant gave him a stern look. “I understand your disapproval. I will remind you again that you are here at my request. Please, let me finish.”
Keene shifted his gaze and lowered his head.
“Thank you,” the president continued. “All that matters at this point is this: I believed these letters to be of no threat. I kept them to myself because, well, whoever wrote them is right! This nation has lost its way. We are all but morally bankrupt as a nation. I kept them to myself to remind me that we—I—have work to do in this office.
“I’m well aware of the path America is on. And this man is right. If something doesn’t change soon, we are no longer going to be the country that our forefathers bled and died for! I kept the letters as a reminder to me that we are all at God’s mercy. And I wanted to use them as motivation for me to help lead this country back to where it came from.”
“So then …” Taylor began, waiting to see if she’d be barked at for speaking.
The president nodded for her to continue.
“So then … why not just send these over to the FBI? I’m sure Director Preston—”
“Because,” the president interrupted, “last night changed everything.”
Finally! Keene thought. The president was coming to his senses.
“As far as the nation is concerned,” Grant continued, “this goes no further than this office. Do you understand?”
Keene was standing up to go. He was about to lose his mind. He wanted to be out the door five minutes ago, looking for this guy.
“Let me finish what I want to tell you and the others, Mr. Keene, and I’ll gladly hear your thoughts and objections.”
Keene forced himself back down into the chair and sat still.
“Mr. Hamilton.” President Grant shifted to his friend. “Would you please …”
The man flipped through the pages of the little book he had taken out earlier and began to read. “Behold, the day of the Lord comes, cruel, with wrath and fierce anger, to make the land a desolation and to destroy its sinners from it. For the stars of the heavens and their constellations will not give their light—”
“That’s what that kook just said on the video,” Keene said. He narrowed his eyes and leaned in. “Who are you?” He glared at Hamilton.
The president held up a hand.
Keene broke his stare and looked back to Grant. “My apologies, sir.”
“It’s scripture, Mr. Keene,” Boz said.
“From the book of Isaiah,” Taylor added.
“That is correct, Ms. Taylor,” Boz said. “Isaiah thirteen. Verses nine through thirteen. And then Jeremiah, and then, though the number of days is changed, Jonah.”
“I don’t understand,” Keene said.
“The speech,” President Grant explained. “The Prophet’s speech on the video is a collection of Old Testament prophets’ words. Warnings to nations to repent or have God’s wrath poured out on them.”
“Fourteen days means the Fourth of July,” Taylor said.
“Yes, it does, Ms. Taylor,” President Grant said. “And that is why I’ve called you all here.”
“But isn’t this different from the letters?” Keene asked. “And I don’t know that I’d go ahead and give this guy a nickname just yet. The Prophet?”
“I agree,” Taylor spoke up.
“I can promise you, as of now, I am taking this seriously, though as far as the American public is concerned, we aren’t. There’s no need to panic them. But our country will celebrate Independence Day in two weeks. If this man is a terrorist and threatening our country, I want you to stop him before it happens.”
“What do you mean? If?” Keene asked.
“You three are the best at what you do,” Grant said. “You don’t know him, but Boz here has military experience. I’ll let him tell you about that. But what you both need to know,” he nodded at Keene and Taylor, “is that Boz is a pastor. He still works with the army, now and again, but not as a soldier. As a pastor. He is a good friend of mine, and I trust his judgment on all matters of faith.”
Keene tried not to make a sour face. He was beginning to have a good idea of where this conversation was headed. And he didn’t like it. Not one bit.
“I have decided,” Grant continued, “that the three of you will work together on this. To personally report back to me and answer to no one else but me. You will have the full resources of both your agencies and this office. I want you to find out everything you can about this Prophet. Everything. Who he is, where he came from, how he did this, all of it.”
“What about Homeland Security?” Taylor asked. “We’ll need to get this cleared by Director Levy. Won’t we?”
“You let me worry about Marianne Levy,” President Grant said. “It is still within my purview to use agents at my discretion. You three do what I’ve asked you to.”
Keene spoke up. “With all due respect, sir, I understand why I would be put on an assignment like this. And I’m at your service, sir. But I don’t need these two to help me find this guy. Give me a week, and I’ll have everything from where he was born to where he used the bathroom last. They’ll just get in my way.”
President Grant took a deep breath. “With all due respect,” he said smiling, “I’m very intimate with your file. I have no doubts of your abilities. But I also know their limits. This man hacked into my private e-mail. Last time I checked, you weren’t a computer genius. Ms. Taylor here is the best. And unless you can tell me how he did it, Ms. Taylor is with you. If she can’t tell us how this guy did it, then I’m forced to consider other options.”
Keene still disagreed with the man, but he was the president of the United States. He would take this up with Jennings after he got out of here. “And what other options would those be?”
“Me,” Boz answered.
Keene gave a confused look.
“I don’t understand. I’ll concede the computer thing, for now. But I don’t need a preacher to help me catch a terrorist who has decided to use some ancient Bible mumbo-jumbo to scare people and threaten our country.”
“Mr. Keene,” the president looked for the first time like a worried man, “did you ever stop to think, even for a second—as far-fetched as it may sound to you—this man may not be a terrorist?”
CHAPTER 9
This is ridiculous!” Keene said. He walked back and forth in front of Jennings’s desk, scuffing the newly polished hardwood. “I’m not about to go traipsing around the city with a computer nerd and a chapy trying to find him—”
“Hey!” Jennings stood up and put a halt to his operative’s rant. “Sit down,” he said, motioning to a chair.
Keene was still fuming and just looked at his boss.
“I said, sit down!” Jennings said, matching Keene’s tone.
Keene reluctantly took the seat.
“Let me tell you something,” Jennings continued as he sat back down. “When the president of the United States calls you at three thirty in the middle of the night and tells you—not asks, tells you—to bring someone to see him, you don’t ask questions. You do it! This is top priority, as far as he’s concerned. He asked me who the best guy I had was. Unfortunately, for both of us, that’s you! And if he decides to send you and this computer girl and this … this …”
“Chapy.”
“What?” Jennings looked at him.
“Chapy, chaplain. Military pastor.”
“Whatever. Then the three of you are going to do exactly what he asks. Do I make myself clear?”
“There’s something you need to know, man.” Keene stopped and chose his words carefully. “I think the president may be a little misguided on this.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Man, you know!” Keene said, waiting for Jennings to catch on.
Jennings stared blankly at him.
“C’mon, Kevin. Look, I’m not trying to suggest that the president is some religious zealot. But everyone knows his stand on faith and God. He actually suggested that this Prophet might not be a terrorist.”
Jennings stood back up, “I don’t care if this guy thinks he’s Moses himself. The president has asked—no, told—you that you’re on this. Whatever thoughts you have about God and faith are your problem. Our problem is finding who this guy is and what organization he belongs to before he does it again. Or worse. And that means you do whatever you need to do to get it done. Understood?”
Keene watched as Jennings walked over to the door and opened it.
“This is ridiculous!” Keene said, leaving the office the same way he came in.
CHAPTER 10
Bill Preston looked up as the door to his office opened.
“How did the rest of your meeting go?”
“Oh, it went great!” Taylor said, her words dripping with sarcasm.
She plopped herself down in the chair in front of her boss’s desk. Preston continued looking over the document he had in front of him.
“Sir, he wants an answer for how this happened.”
“Okay, so give him one.” When Taylor said nothing, he finally put the document down and looked at her. “Actually, I’d like one, too. Care to share?”
“Funny.” Taylor grimaced. “You and I both know this is going to take some time. I’ve got to reverse-engineer the pathway and find out where it came from. Maybe then I can tell you more.”
“Well then,” Preston said, “better get to it.”
“Let me ask you something, sir.”
Preston nodded to her.
“How well do you know the president?”
“How do you mean?”
“I mean, how well do you know him? Are you purely business? Do you ever see him socially? Do your wives know each other? Are you—”
“Friends?” Preston finished her sentence for her. “No, not really. I mean, I’ve been to several of his functions. We’ve seen each other, on occasion, outside of federal business. He’s the president of the United States, Taylor. It’s not like he just goes out and hangs with the guys. Why?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m jumping to conclusions….”
“But?”
“But, well, the president has known about this guy from the video for three months now and hasn’t said anything to anyone.”
Preston just looked at her.
“Don’t you think that’s a little strange?”
Preston pursed his lips. “Strange? No. Breach of protocol, yes. But Grant has his reasons.”
Immediately she regretted saying anything. If her boss new about this and didn’t follow up with it, it could mean congressional hearings if something else were to happen as a result of keeping it quiet.
“Sir, I don’t want to start any trouble.”
“Too late for that now, Taylor. What are you talking about?”
Taylor felt the buzz inside her jacket. She fished the phone out and hit the button, grateful for the interruption.
“Taylor here.”
“It’s Keene.”
“Hold on.”
She pulled the phone away and covered it with her hand and whispered, “It’s that Jon Keene guy. From the White House this morning. I probably should take this.”
She backed out of the door and put the phone back to her ear, leaving her boss sitting where she found him.
“I’m back, what can I do for you, Mr. Keene?”
“First of all, it’s Jon. Or Keene. Either one of those is fine. Never Mr. Keene, got it?”
“Yeah, sure.” She pulled the phone away and looked at it and mouthed, Whatever!
“Where are you?”
“At my office. Why?”
“Good, I’m outside. Black Pathfinder with black wheels. I’m in the visitor spot. Let’s go.”
“Go where? I’m not going anywhere with you.”
“You heard the man. We’re on this together. And you also heard him say I’m lead on this. Now let’s go. We’re going to see a guy. If you’re not out here in five minutes, I’m going by myself, and I’ll tell Grant you chose not to participate.”
The line went dead.
Taylor went from zero to fuming in a snap. First, she’d been in the same room with Keene and the president. She had not even once heard the president say Keene was in charge. Second, she had other things to be doing right now. Trying to find the source of that recording from last night, to start with. Not riding around in a car with some CIA macho wannabe superspy.
Nevertheless, the CIA was known for turning up people who didn’t want to be found. She needed to know who this particular someone was and if he was going to shed any light on the situation.
She grabbed her bag from her desk and headed out the door.
CHAPTER 11
Lewis Hardy, the president’s chief of staff, stood in front of his boss, pleading his case for the third time. It really was a matter of perception, he argued. The American people deserved to know that there was a possible threat.
“I’m not about to go out there and tell the people some guy sent me a private e-mail threatening this nation. Have you lost your mind?”
“I’m not suggesting that, sir,” Hardy said. “But if you at least let me go out there and just announce that we’ve had some chatter increase and we’re raising the threat level in order to take all precautions, we’ll at least be covering our butts if something should happen.”
“And Marianne Levy will drag me before some judiciary committee and try to impeach me.”
“Mr. President, this could be serious.”
“I’m well aware of that. And I will meet with Director Levy and ask her if she is aware of anything out of the ordinary. We’ll take it from there.”
“And if she agrees with me?”
“Then we’ll revisit this and decide how to inform the American people.”
“And I’ll twist his arm to make sure.” Bo
z, silent until this moment, spoke at last.
Hardy looked relieved. “Yes, sir. Thank you!” Then to Boz, “And thank you.”
Boz nodded to him and smiled as Hardy turned and left the room.
“You’re not telling Levy anything. Are you?” Boz asked as Hardy disappeared.
“Nope.”
Boz laughed and said, “But we both know Lewis is right. You don’t go out there, and this becomes a whole ‘nother level of big deal….”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. But what if it is a whole ‘nother level?” Grant made the fake quotation marks with his fingers.
“That’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Boz said, already knowing the answer.
“Boz, I don’t want to scare anyone, but you and I both know that if this is not some terrorist making threats, we have a big problem on our hands.”
“Correction,” Boz said. He walked to the window and pointed outside. “If this guy isn’t a terrorist …” He let it hang there for a moment. “That’s a lot of people out there, Calvin.” He paused, looking out at the city. “We’ll all have a big problem.”
CHAPTER 12
So where are we going?” Taylor asked. Keene drove the black Pathfinder with a race car driver’s skill, swerving in and out of traffic. “And why are we driving like this?”
“We’re going to see a friend,” Keene answered.
She was silent again. This was how it had been since he picked her up. A few short exchanges and then nothing. Keene wasn’t giving out any information, and he could see it was beginning to frustrate her.
“Hey, let’s get something straight, okay?” she said.
Keene noted the tone in her voice. “What’s that?”
“I know you’re not that excited to be working with me. That’s fine. I’m not that keen on working with you either. No pun intended.”
Keene showed a hint of a smile. “That’s actually funny. I’ve never heard that before.”
The 13: Fall Page 4
