The 13: Fall

by ROBBIE CHEUVRONT

  At the time of the shooting, Keene thought his collarbone had been shattered. He had barely even been able to raise his arm over his waist. But after being checked out by the same medical staff, there at Bethesda, he was relieved to find out that the bullet was a through and through shot, just above the bone. Two inches to his left and he might be lying here next to President Grant. Or worse.

  He was sore, for sure, but the fact that he kept himself in such great physical shape had already begun paying dividends. Only four days later and he was able to have almost full range of motion in the shoulder. It still hurt like crazy, but he was functional. The doctors said that he should try to take it easy for a couple weeks, but he knew that wasn’t an option. He was waiting for a phone call. And depending on what the content of that call revealed, he planned on being back on the streets by this afternoon. He had a killer to find. He quietly returned to the small conference room where Taylor and Boz waited. He pulled up one of the worn fake-leather chairs and sat down. His mind raced with what should be their next move.

  “Jon, you all right?” It was Taylor, jarring him back from his thoughts.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Just thinking.”

  “About what?” Boz asked.

  “I just don’t get it. You know? I mean, we finally get a lead on this guy. We know who he is, where he’s from. Got his picture and everything. And then, this woman shows up.”

  “Maybe she’s working for him,” Taylor said.

  “I don’t know,” he said, unsure. “It just doesn’t feel right.”

  He quickly noted Boz’s sideways grin.

  “Don’t you start,” Keene said. “I don’t know how she plays into this, but—”

  “But you don’t believe for one second that she has anything to do with this guy, the Prophet,” Boz interrupted him.

  Boz was right. He knew it. He didn’t know how or why, but he knew it. This Prophet, while he might not be the one orchestrating what was happening—which was still to be determined—was still involved somehow. Keene was sure. But he was having a hard time connecting the Prophet to anything that had happened at the Capitol. The only thing that could possibly tie him to it was the bombings of the warehouse and the art gallery. But bomb makers are extremely finicky. They don’t change up their designs, and these two were as different as night and day. One explosion was meant to destroy a building and not intentionally harm anyone. The other was a diversion, set to do maximum damage, regardless of who was in its path.

  “Listen, Boz. I don’t know what I think right now. My shoulder hurts like crazy, President Grant is lying here fighting for his life. Our entire country is on the brink of collapsing. And we don’t have an answer for any of it.”

  Boz shifted in his seat again. “Hmph.”

  Keene was exhausted, and he didn’t want to argue. But Boz just wouldn’t let it go.

  “Okay,” Keene said. “Let’s just for one minute pretend that you’re right. That this Prophet is a messenger. The bomb at the Capitol doesn’t fit the fourteen-day timeline. And if that’s not what this guy was talking about, then what? Are we still to expect that something is going to happen sometime between now and the next few days? And if that’s the case, then who is this woman? Where’d she come from? And why did she take a shot at the president? And how does that fit into all of this?”

  Boz seemed to think about it for a second and then said, “I don’t know who the woman is. She is obviously a trained assassin. I don’t know why she would try to kill Calvin. And I have no idea why the three of us have been brought together. But I do know this: God works in ways that we cannot understand. Calvin’s inability to run the country right now may be the very thing needed for God to be able to do what He wants to do here. Do I believe that all hope is lost? No. Do I believe that we can stop whatever it is that’s happening? No.”

  “So what, then? Are we supposed to just sit back and let it all happen?”

  “No,” Boz said, “we are not. Just because God has set all of this in motion, we do not know, nor can we presume to know, what the end result will be. We are called to seek Him. To follow as He leads.”

  “So God helps those who help themselves,” Keene smarted.

  “Funny,” Boz chuckled, “you know that that idiom is not found anywhere in the Bible? Actually, it goes against everything the Bible teaches us. In the book of Jeremiah, God says, ‘Cursed is the man who trusts in man and makes flesh his strength, whose heart turns away from the Lord.’”

  “So,” Keene said, “according to God, we’re screwed. Which brings me back to where we were.”

  Taylor, who had been listening the whole time, asked, “Can I jump in here?”

  “Why not?” Keene sighed.

  “You know, I’ve tried to keep a relatively unbiased opinion on all of this. And yes, I’ll admit. Even as a Christian it’s been hard for me to just accept that God is talking to this guy. But I gotta tell you, everything in me says this is for real. I’m with Boz on this.”

  How was he ever going to find the people responsible for this, when the two people he was being forced to work with wouldn’t listen to reason? He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms. This was getting worse by the second.

  “Then, what?” he finally said. “Where does that leave us? Either way, we have a job to do. We have to find this guy. We’re still operating under a time frame. And we have to find this assassin and figure out where she fits into all of this. Or maybe the two of you just think we should just sit back and watch.”

  “No,” Boz said. “I don’t think we just sit back here and watch. I think we continue to move forward and find these people. Just because God has allowed all of this to start happening, it doesn’t mean that He has abandoned us. He has promised that He would never forsake His children.”

  “Then how do you explain all of this?”

  Boz folded his hands and hunched his shoulders. “Because there are a lot of us who aren’t His children.”

  Just then, the phone in Keene’s pocket began to buzz. He stood up and left the room. All three of them had been waiting for this call. When he got outside the door, he hit the button.

  “This is Keene.”

  “It’s me, Jennings.”

  “What’s the word?”

  “President Walker is giving me full latitude to find out what’s going on. You are to continue as you were.”

  President Walker. That just doesn’t sound right, he thought, glancing back through the doorway to see President Grant in bed.

  “What about Marianne Levy?”

  “No one’s seen her since she left, after Grant took back DHS. Her office says she’s taking personal time.”

  “What’s Walker’s take on it?”

  “Seriously? You know as well as I do the only reason the man was on the ticket was because he could carry Ohio, Pennsylvania, and New York. Nice guy, yeah. But nowhere near ready to run this country. He has no idea what he’s doing.”

  “Any word on the shooter?”

  The line was quiet for a moment. Then, “We think it’s her.”

  Keene gripped the phone tighter. “I want everything you have on her, Kevin.”

  “And you’ll get it. Just not yet. Right now, I want you tracking down this Prophet and finding him. He may be able to lead us to her.”

  “We’ve spent almost two weeks looking for him, and nothing!”

  “That was before. Now you have a name and a driver’s license. Find him.”

  The phone went dead.

  Keene entered the room again and sat back down. “That was Jennings.”

  “What did he say?” Megan asked.

  “Exactly what we thought. Walker is giving Jennings full control.”

  “What about Director Levy?” Boz asked.

  “Walker was told she’s taking personal time. Who knows? She’s probably home, celebrating, trying to figure out how to get DHS back. She’s not going to be a problem, though.”

  “If Walker is going to give
over control to someone, shouldn’t it be Director Preston?” Taylor asked. “I mean, FBI is supposed to be all things domestic.”

  “Jennings can be very persuasive,” Keene said.

  “And the shooter?” Megan asked.

  “Jennings confirmed what I thought.”

  “You know who she is?” Megan asked.

  “No. But I’ve run into her work a couple times. Not literally. I mean, there’ve been some hits in the past that we believed to be a woman. Russian. No one’s ever seen her. All we’ve ever had was a vague description and a photo we think is her. But she’s good. Real good.”

  “Obviously,” Boz said. “I mean, she got the jump on you.”

  “Funny,” Keene said.

  “Then how do we find her?” Taylor asked.

  “We don’t. Not yet. Jennings wants us looking for the Prophet.”

  “I agree,” Boz said.

  Keene was taken aback for a moment. This actually surprised him. “You do? And why’s that? I thought you were—”

  “Listen,” Boz cut him off. “Whether or not you buy into all of this doesn’t matter. This all started with him. He has the answers. And we have less than a week.”

  “If there even is a threat,” Keene said. “We don’t know! What if all this guy was talking about was this shot on President Grant?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Boz said. “We can’t take the chance. If this guy’s telling the truth and something else is coming, we need to find out. Before it happens.”

  “Why?” Keene said. “According to you we wouldn’t be able to stop it anyway.”

  “Maybe it’s not our job to stop it,” Boz said, matching his tone. “But it might be our job to warn people of it.”

  “I agree,” Taylor said. “Now we know who he is, and we have his picture. Let’s get it done.”

  As badly as Keene wanted to go against Jennings’s orders and hunt down the Russian woman, he knew Taylor and Boz were right. They had to find this guy. If he did have answers, they needed them. And Keene was sure that whatever they found out, eventually it was going to lead them back to the Russian.

  CHAPTER 48

  Marianne Levy finished packing the few things that she wanted to bring with her in her carry-on. There would be no checked luggage. With three hundred and fifty million dollars—which could have been four hundred and fifty million—she could buy whatever she wanted. When she was finished she set the small bag down in the living room and looked around the house one last time. She would miss this old place.

  She had finally heard from Alex. The conversation was quick and via text. All it said was that she was coming here and that she would be there in less than two hours. The two hours were almost up.

  She pulled a chair out from the small kitchen table and sat down, her back facing the wall and her eyes facing the door. She let the small handgun rest in her lap. Alex was a trained assassin. And while she had no grand visions of being able to catch her by surprise, she certainly was not going to let the woman catch her in the same way. She didn’t get to be the director of DHS by underestimating people. There were only two ways into this room, both directly in front of her. And if Alex had any inclination to shoot her, she would have to come in one of these two doorways.

  She heard the faint click of the front door latch. She grabbed the pistol and raised it to a firing position. Then she heard the faint footsteps. Alex was coming through the living room. She had her finger on the trigger, not knowing what to fully expect, waiting for the woman to show her face. But instead, the footsteps stopped just short of coming into view.

  “You can put it away, Marianne. I’m not here to kill you.”

  She kept the gun in position and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re not stupid,” came the reply. “And it’s exactly what I would do.”

  Just then, Alex peeked her head around the corner, her hands up, palms out. “I’m not here to kill you,” she said again.

  Marianne motioned for her to come into full view.

  Alex continued walking into the kitchen and grabbed a stool from under the island bar. She sat down and folded her arms.

  “You can’t blame me,” Marianne said. “I mean, I am a loose end. Isn’t that what you call it?”

  Alex nodded. “Yes, but let’s be honest. If I wanted you dead, you’d already be that way. I came to give you these.”

  Marianne set the small pistol on the table beside her and reached for the small pouch in Alex’s hand. She unzipped the thing and reached inside and pulled out three passports. Alex had promised her these a few weeks back. She opened them up, one by one, and thumbed through them. They were all hers. Different names, different nationalities, complete with stamps from several different countries.

  “What about you?” Marianne said.

  Alex shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been doing this for a long time. I think I’m going to retire.”

  “Retire? Really? Somehow I doubt that. People like you don’t retire.”

  “Yeah, maybe not. But I’m going to at least go away for a long time. Can’t stay here,” Alex laughed. “And as much as I really like my place back home, I’m going to have to leave it. Can’t take the chance. You don’t win the Super Bowl and go unnoticed.”

  “I wouldn’t say won.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just what I said. He’s not dead.”

  Alex narrowed her eyes at her. “He’s in a coma. And if he ever wakes up—and that’s a big if—he’s gonna be brain-dead. He’s as good as dead.”

  “But not dead.”

  “Semantics.”

  “Whatever. Doesn’t matter. Chin isn’t just coming here to drill.”

  “I know.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “Marianne, for someone as smart as you appear to be, you can be naive. You know that? Or are you so narcissistic that you actually believed that you could get away with all of this and this country would just accept it, after the fact? There’s no way. The Chinese are too smart for that. They used you. Face it. They’ve always intended on coming here. This isn’t just about oil and the fact that this country is indebted to them. This is about domination. They are a communist regime. It’s their way of life. Take over and assimilate. Just because they’ve done it through capitalism for the last seventy-five years doesn’t mean that they’ve gotten weak.”

  “Well,” Marianne sighed, “like I said. It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving. You’re leaving. We won’t be here when it happens. Where will you go?”

  “Where are you going?”

  She smiled and nodded her head. “Right. Okay then. I guess I’ll be seeing you later.”

  “No you won’t.”

  “You know you shot that Jon Keene guy, right?”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “You know he’s going to come looking for you, don’t you?”

  “I doubt it. He’s going to have his hands full for a while. But even if he does, that’s fine. I’ve got unfinished business with him.”

  “How’s that?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. Let’s just say we’ve crossed paths before. And besides, he’s going to come looking for you long before he comes looking for me.” She stood up from the stool. “Take care, Marianne.”

  CHAPTER 49

  Keene and Director Jennings sat in the Oval Office, waiting for President Walker. Boz and Taylor were back at her office, trying to get another lead on the Prophet with her supercomputer. Keene and Jennings were here to convince President Walker to increase the threat level. The man was incorrigible. He refused to even entertain that an impending attack could be coming. His focus right now, he said, was getting the American people to stop panicking over the stock market.

  “He’s not gonna do it, Kevin.”

  “Probably not. But at least we can say we told you so.”

  “Fat lot of good that’s going to do us if someone blows up New York.”r />
  “He’s scared. He’s just been thrown into the big chair because Grant has been shot, and he has a financial crisis on his hands.”

  Just then, newly installed President Walker entered the room. Both men stood—out of respect for the office—and shook his hand.

  “Now, gentlemen,” Walker said, “what can I do for you?”

  Keene started to speak, but Jennings put a hand on his shoulder to quiet him.

  “Mr. President, we really need to talk to you about this impending threat assessment.”

  “Jennings, do you have any idea what I’m dealing with right now?”

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  “No, I don’t think you do,” he interrupted. “I have a president lying comatose in Bethesda; I’ve got the FBI crawling all over me about this bomb in front of the Capitol; and our country is on the brink of financial collapse. Do you understand what’s going to happen in the next three days if this market doesn’t turn around?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jennings said quickly, taking his opportunity to cut in. “But don’t you think it’s reasonable to believe that all of this is connected to something bigger?”

  “Now you’re starting to sound like Calvin.”

  Strangely, that remark didn’t bother Keene. He didn’t know why.

  “Mr. President,” Keene jumped in, “I’ve been tracking this Prophet guy for almost two weeks. I’m with you, sir. I don’t know how any of this plays into the other, but we can’t just dismiss it. The guy has been in contact with President Grant for months now. He’s been warning us that something like this was going to happen. We need to take him seriously and raise the threat level. The Fourth is just a couple days away.”

  President Walker furrowed his brow and said, “Mr. Keene, you can’t honestly think that someone would try to attack this country on our Independence Day. That’s when our security is at its highest! Many have tried. All have failed. Our brave men and women in this country understand that. They will be fully engaged in looking for any type of threat. You’re overreacting.”