The 13: Fall

by ROBBIE CHEUVRONT

  “President Walker, listen to me!” Keene pleaded. “You are naive if you think this country is secure right now. Our brave men and women, as you put it, are busy trying to keep the people of this country from rioting and degenerating into full-on civil unrest. They wouldn’t have the manpower or resources to stop an attack right now if they had to. And you don’t even know where your director of Homeland Security is! Our military is stretched so far that we have less than eighty thousand troops stateside. I served, sir. I did the things that you people need done but didn’t want anyone else to know. So I know how to run a military op. And I’m telling you, we are vulnerable. If this Prophet is even somewhat right, you need to raise the threat level. Let the American people know that there is an imminent threat. Even if we can’t prove it.”

  President Walker placed his hands on the desk and lowered his head. He took a deep breath and looked up again. “Mr. Keene, I can’t,” he said in a saddened tone. “Do you understand that if I do this, our country will completely deteriorate within hours. Even if nothing ever happens. On the heels of the bomb at the Capitol and the market crashing, people will think the sky is falling. There could be riots. Heck, they’re already happening! And it would just get worse. I cannot take that chance. I’m sorry. I truly am. But if you think that this threat is real, then you need to follow up on it. If and when you have solid information, we can talk again.”

  President Walker stood up and moved to the door. He opened it and said, “Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have some pressing matters to attend to.”

  “He’s wrong, Kevin,” Keene said, back in the car.

  “Maybe. But weren’t you the one, just last week, saying this Prophet guy was a kook? And that President Grant was crazy?”

  Keene sat there for a moment. Kevin had a good point. He was the one who had been adamantly against all of this. And he didn’t know why, but something had changed. The deeper he got into this, the more he had to admit he didn’t know what to think.

  “I don’t know,” he said, frustrated. “I mean, here’s this guy. Hacks into Grant’s private e-mail; Taylor says she can’t figure out how—and she’s supposedly the best hacker alive. I tried to convince myself that the guy tried to kill us in Chicago, but Boz is right. That charge was set to blow up and out. And … the man warned us to get out. Who does that if he’s trying to kill you? And then the Russian shows up. I’m supposed to believe that this seminary student has ties to a Russian hitter? Yeah. That’s real likely.”

  “Could happen,” Jennings said. “I’ve seen stranger things.”

  “Yeah, me, too. But not this. Look, I agree with them that this guy is probably not responsible for President Grant or the bomb at the Capitol. But he knows something. How, I have no idea. But he does. And we’ve got to find him. If Walker isn’t willing to listen to any of us, maybe he’ll listen to him. I’ve just got to find him first. And find out what he knows.”

  “I agree. And in the meantime, I’ll try to meet with Bob Sykes and the rest of the Joint Chiefs. I know they haven’t had their eyes and ears focused here. But with Marianne gone, I’m going to need their help. And I’m going to need Taylor to get over to DHS and start digging around in Marianne’s files.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Think about it. The director of Homeland Security just disappears?”

  “I never thought you, of all people, would care about that.”

  “I don’t. Not that she’s gone, anyway,” Jennings laughed. “But where’d she go? And why?”

  Keene had been so focused on the Prophet, he didn’t even stop to consider… “You don’t think she could have anything to do with any of this do you?”

  “I’ve seen stranger things,” Jennings said again.

  Keene’s phone began to ring.

  “This is Keene.”

  “Jon, it’s Megan. Where are you?”

  “Headed back with Jennings. What’s up?”

  “You need to get over here. I think I’ve found him.”

  CHAPTER 50

  Okay, so check this out,” Taylor said, pointing to her screen. “This is a traffic camera in St. Louis. It’s from a red-light camera off an exit on I-44.”

  She pulled the picture up. It showed a car turning from the light onto the southbound lanes of the interstate.

  “Apparently, there is a no-turn-on-red right there. Our guy must’ve not seen it and turned anyway. When he did, he set off the motion sensor, and it snapped his picture, both front and back.

  She zoomed in on the license plate, and then on another screen she pulled up the photo and did the same thing.

  “That’s him!” Keene said.

  “Yes, it is. But this is from five days ago. Now look here.”

  She clicked around on the keyboard. The two images disappeared, and a video came up.

  “This is from a traffic feed in Fort Worth. They have cameras like this in a lot of cities. News crews use it to give local traffic reports. Look. Here’s our guy again.”

  She played the footage. There was the car, moving slowly through rush-hour traffic.

  “When was this?” Keene asked. “How did you find this?” He was genuinely impressed.

  “Two days ago,” she said. And then, “I told you. There’s not much I can’t do on this thing.” She patted the monitor. “And then finally, there’s this.”

  Next she put up another video of a street in what looked like an older, smaller town. Pedestrians walked by casually, as the camera stood sentry over the town square. Seconds later, the Prophet came into view. He strolled casually by the camera and entered a small shop.

  “This is one of those city-cams that a lot of towns have. People can go online and just watch what’s going on in their town or city. Again, a lot of news crews use these when doing weather or traffic. This is Edinburg, Texas.”

  “He went home,” Keene said.

  “He’s home!” Taylor affirmed. “Now we at least know where he is.”

  “He could be gone by now,” Boz said. “Just because that’s where he’s from doesn’t mean that’s where he lives.”

  “Maybe,” Megan said. “But this is from today. And these are from the last two days.” She pulled up similar video feeds, all from the same place. In each one, the Prophet was seen going in and out of the camera’s purview. “He may not live there, but he’s there right now. And it doesn’t look like he’s in a hurry to leave.”

  “Why would he?” Keene said. “He’s less than an hour away from the Mexican border. If he felt like we were close, he could just skip across and disappear again.”

  “So what do we do now?” Taylor asked.

  Just then, Jennings stepped into the office. He had been across the hall with Director Preston. “What we do now is split you three up.”

  “What?” Taylor asked. “Why?”

  “Because,” Jennings said, “there are a couple things we need done. And I can’t have all three of you chasing them down one at a time.” He stopped and pointed to Keene. “Jon, I want you down on the border. Boz, I want you with me and Bill when we go talk to the Joint Chiefs tomorrow. And Megan, I need you to take a trip across town and go visit DHS.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “I want to know where Marianne Levy is. And I want to know why she’s not bullying her way back into DHS. You have complete access to her files and computer and her office. Go see what you can turn up.”

  “Okay.”

  “Boz, with your military record, the Joint Chiefs will be more likely to listen to you.”

  “What are you asking them to do?” It was Keene.

  “I’m going to ask them to start calling our boys back here. As many as they can spare. If this threat is real, we need to be prepared.”

  “It’ll take over a week to get our ships back here from the Middle East,” Keene said.

  “Then we better get them moving. Don’t you think?” Jennings said.

  Taylor understood the need to split
them up. But she didn’t want Keene going to Texas by himself. She had a bad feeling that if Keene found the Prophet, there wouldn’t be much left of him to question.

  “Sir,” she said, interrupting, “I know you want me to go to DHS, but shouldn’t we be focusing on this Prophet? I mean, what if Jon needs backup? Shouldn’t I go with him? I can go to DHS once we find him.”

  Jennings looked at her with a condescending smile. “Ms. Taylor, Jon can take care of himself. I want you over at DHS.” Then to Keene, “Walk with me. Something I want to talk to you about.”

  Jennings turned and left the office as quickly as he’d come in. Keene started to follow, but Megan grabbed him by the arm.

  “Jon, promise me something.”

  He turned to face her.

  “Don’t do anything stupid. Remember what you promised President Grant.”

  “Relax,” Keene said. “I’m not going to kill him. Unless he tries to kill me first.”

  “Just be careful. And stay away from train tunnels.”

  “You worried about me, Taylor?” He raised an eyebrow.

  She didn’t know why, but she immediately felt awkward. “No …” she stammered, “I just … I …”

  “Go find out what you can at DHS,” he said. “I’ll keep you both posted on what I find.”

  Keene turned and left. As she watched him chase after Jennings, she felt something weird in her gut. It was almost as if she was beginning to care about him. Maybe she was worried a little.

  “I saw that,” Boz said.

  “Saw what?” she said defensively.

  “That look,” he said. “You’re worried about him.”

  “I hardly know the man. That’s ridiculous.”

  “Okay,” Boz said. “Just remember: this is how it starts.”

  “How what starts?”

  Boz laughed and said, “C’mon. We’ve got work to do.”

  Keene chased after Jennings who was already halfway out the door. He was slightly conflicted right now. On one hand, he was glad to be flying solo, even if it was only for a little while. He needed the time alone to think. On the other, Boz and Taylor had grown on him. After his wife died, he hadn’t been much of a social person. He always kept everything close to the vest. But there was something different about these two. And that confused him even more, because there couldn’t be two more diametrically opposite people from him in the whole world. But nevertheless, he liked them.

  Probably the craziest thing right now was the fact that he was allowing himself to entertain the idea of what Boz had been saying for days. And he couldn’t decide if that made him crazy or just plain sad. For so long, he had harbored this anger that drove him. At first, he had just hated God. Then he decided that there wasn’t a God. And then he decided no, there is a God, He was just punishing him for something. And no matter what anyone said, it always came back to one thing for him. How could a supposedly loving God allow this to happen? How could God allow some radical fundamentalist terrorist group to kill his wife? She was the sweetest, most innocent person anyone had ever known. She hadn’t done anything wrong. No, there was no God.

  And so he shut down. And he became the man he was today. The ruthless, highly trained, deadly operative that he was. The SEALs had turned him into a machine. The CIA had turned him into a weapon. And now here he was, years later, entertaining the thought, once more, that there might be a God. And he still didn’t know what that meant. Or if he even liked it. He almost would rather there be a God so he could be mad at Him again. But Boz had been wearing him out. Every time they were alone, the man would try to convince him he had it all wrong. Who knows? he thought, frustrated. Maybe he did. But even so, right now, he didn’t care.

  “Kevin, what’s up?” he said.

  Jennings continued walking. “Got a call from one of our drug cartel snitches.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So he just happens to be on the border in Hidalgo County.”

  “And that’s where this Prophet is,” he said, finishing Jennings’s thought. “So what’d he say? How’s that connected to our guy?”

  “He didn’t. He just said that there was something there we would want to see. Wouldn’t say anything about it on the phone.”

  “And you want me to go see him.”

  “Yes. And I want you to do it before you go looking for this Prophet fellow.”

  “I don’t know. The Prophet is gonna have the answers we need. I need to be on him first. Why can’t you send someone else? Send Farhetty. He’s not doing anything.”

  “Farhetty’s on a plane to Istanbul. I want you to check it out.”

  “Look—”

  “Jon, this is not a discussion. This is me telling you to go see him. You understand? This guy single-handedly gave us the Molinero cartel. He’s only contacted us three times. And every time it’s been something big. I want to know what he knows.”

  CHAPTER 51

  The sun had already set by the time Keene got home. He, Taylor, and Boz had spent the last few hours of the day continuing to track the movements of the Prophet. It seemed he was indeed in Edinburg and had no plans, that they could tell, to leave anytime soon. They had tracked him several times in and out of town. Where he went when he was out of sight was still to be determined. But at least he was staying put for now.

  Independence Day was two days away. And the fact that they had no credible evidence that there was an immediate threat of an attack was hindering them from being able to move forward. President Walker had completely rejected the idea of warning the nation further. He gave explicit orders that if any of them were to pursue this course of action, he would personally see to it that they never saw the outside of a prison cell for as long as they lived. The only thing he was willing to concede was allowing them to continue to pursue new evidence. Jennings had told them he was working on it. But for now, they were to hang tight.

  He got a text message from Jennings when he got home that said the informant would meet him in two days, the deadline date. In the meantime, he was to go ahead and try to find the Prophet. He would have a plane waiting for him in the morning. That, at least, made him happy. They knew where the man was. Now it was just a matter of getting there and catching him. He called Boz and Taylor and gave them the update. He wondered if President Walker even knew that Jennings was meeting with them.

  It had been a long couple of days. And he’d hardly been home. He wanted a long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep. He fixed himself a sandwich, swallowed it in three bites, and headed upstairs to turn the water on. Half an hour later, he felt like a new man. The wound in his shoulder still hurt, but the long shower had helped to loosen the muscles a good bit. He was toweling off when the doorbell rang. He threw on a pair of gym shorts and grabbed his gun. No reason for anyone to be showing up at this hour.

  He stood beside the door and was about to call out to see who it was when he heard the voice.

  “It’s Boz.”

  He opened the door and walked back into the living room. He sat down and laid the 9mm on the corner table.

  “Expecting someone else?” Boz asked, pointing to the pistol.

  “Not expecting anyone,” Keene said.

  Boz nodded and sat down. “So you’re headed to Texas in the morning.”

  “Looks that way. You going with Kevin to see the Joint Chiefs?”

  “Looks that way.”

  Both men sat there in silence for a few moments. Keene finally broke the stalemate.

  “I’m not going to kill him, Boz.”

  “I know. That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Then what?”

  “Couple things. First, I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

  “I’m fine. What do you mean?”

  “You’re not fine. You’ve got a hole in your shoulder. And I wanted to talk to you about this Prophet guy.”

  “You trying to shrink me again, chapy?”

  Boz laughed at him. “No, I’m not trying to shrink you ag
ain. Listen. I know you have had a hard time even considering buying into all of this, but I’m telling you, man—I believe with all of my soul that something is happening here. I think you believe it, too, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  Keene just sat there looking at him, stern-faced.

  “Tell me what happened to your wife.”

  Here we go again, Keene thought. “What’s that got to do with anything? I told you. She was killed by a terrorist.”

  “It’s got everything to do with everything. It’s the very reason you’re set on denying that this could all be real.”

  Ever since he’d left the unit, Keene had worked on his own. Up until two weeks ago, Jennings was the closest thing he had had to a friend. And though it was hard for him to admit, he missed the camaraderie. The last two weeks with Boz and Taylor had brought that to light. But to say that he and Boz were close friends, after this short a period, was reaching. And Boz was close to stepping over the line.

  “My personal convictions have nothing to do with this,” Keene snapped. “If there is a threat against this country, then I want to stop it. It’s that simple.”

  “It’s not that simple,” Boz said. “I get it. You think that God let her die by the hands of terrorists. And since He couldn’t stop it, you’ve dedicated your life to doing what you think He couldn’t do.”

  “You don’t know anything! And you’re way outta line.”

  “No, you’re outta line. You’ve got this screwed-up view of the world and how it’s your job to make everything right. It’s not your job!”

  “Then who’s is it!” he yelled. “His? ‘Cause He’s done a poor job of it.”

  “No, He hasn’t. That’s what I’m trying to show you, if you’d just listen.”

  Keene dug his fingers into the arms of the chair and set his jaw. Boz had been pressing him to have this conversation since they’d met. And he didn’t want anything to do with it, because he wouldn’t admit it, but Boz was right. He was mad that this God, if He was real, allowed her to die. And He did nothing to stop it, so Keene had decided he would. And he’d lived the last eight years trying to make sure that he kept some other poor sap from losing someone he loved.