The 13: Fall

by ROBBIE CHEUVRONT

  “What? That’s impossible. How could she pull that off?”

  “That’s exactly what we said. She’s been doing it for the last few months. She’s forged customs documents, secured land. She even manipulated some military contracts to provide special security and quarantine of those areas. She was selling out the country.”

  “So what’s happening? What’s Jennings doing?”

  “He’s going to show Walker everything. He believes that this is what the Prophet is talking about.”

  “Why?” he said confused. “I mean, yeah, that could be considered an aggression. But that’s not what he said, right?”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t think that’s what the Prophet is talking about.”

  “Then why’s Jennings sold on it?”

  “Because the first scheduled date for beginning to move on all of this was for the day after tomorrow.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. Treason, yes. Attack on the country … that’s a stretch.”

  “I know, but there’s more.”

  Keene could already taste the bile rising in his throat. What this woman had done was disgusting. As much as he didn’t want to hear any more, he waited for Boz to continue.

  “I told you there was a virus on Marianne’s computer. Megan was trying to copy the files when someone launched it from a remote location. She couldn’t trace it back because she had to shut her computer down, too. It took her most of the afternoon to just quarantine the bug and remove it from her own computer before she could sift through what was left.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “Megan was able to see that Marianne made a copy of a couple files the day Grant was shot.”

  Keene’s head began to pound. He knew what was coming next.

  “She pulled the evac route and procedure for the president,” Boz continued. “We think there’s a good possibility she handed that off to someone.”

  “The Russian.” It was a statement, not a question.

  “She had the CIA’s file on the Russian on her computer. I think Marianne’s the one who made the call.”

  Keene could feel the muscles in his jaw and neck tighten up. “Where is she?” he said in a cold, flat tone.

  “She left here on a private charter and landed in Geneva. From there, she hopped two commercial flights to different countries and then disappeared. The last place she popped up was in Mumbai. But I don’t think she would stay there. It took Megan most of the day just to track her that far.”

  “So what now? Why are you at Andrews?” he asked, knowing the answer and not liking it one bit.

  “Jennings is sending us to find her. We’re leaving for Mumbai in thirty minutes.”

  Keene pulled the phone away and hissed through his teeth. He took a deep breath to calm himself and put the phone back to his ear.

  “So Jennings is just dismissing the whole idea of an attack tomorrow.”

  “No, he isn’t. Listen. The reality of it is this: We’ve tracked the Prophet for two weeks with no luck. Marianne’s tried to have the president assassinated. She tried to sell out the country’s oil supply to our biggest debt holder. Our stock market has disintegrated. And we still don’t have any idea what’s going on. This is out of our control. Jennings wants you to meet with this informant guy tomorrow. Find out what he knows, and if it’s anything worth worrying about, we’ll follow it. But for now, we have to take what God has given us.”

  Here we go again, he thought. “You know what, Boz? This is ridiculous! I should be the one going after Marianne. If she did order the hit on Grant, then Jennings should be sending me, an active agent. Not you and Taylor. She’s a computer geek! What’s she going to do? E-mail her to death?”

  “I’m going, too. And don’t forget,” he said, “I’m more than capable of handling Marianne Levy. And I’ve got news for you. Megan Taylor might be a computer geek, but she’s also a federal agent. She can hold her own.”

  Keene knew Boz was right, but he didn’t want to admit it. “Doesn’t matter. You two are the ones who think God is doing all of this. Not me, remember? Maybe God wants us to stop Marianne Levy. Maybe God has been talking about this all along.”

  “Maybe,” Boz said.

  “Then why are you so bent on trying to make something bigger out of it?”

  “Because we don’t know. And until we do, maybe God has you there for a reason. If there is going to be an attack, maybe you’re the one God wants there to handle it.”

  This was insane! He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “You really believe all of this stuff, don’t you?”

  The line was quiet for a second. Then Boz said, “You know I do.”

  Keene stood there for a moment trying to calm himself. Finally he said, “If God wants me here, in the middle of all of this, then why doesn’t He tell me that?”

  “That’s a good question,” Boz said with a chuckle. “You could ask Him. But the better question is, would you listen if He answered? I’ll call you when we land in Mumbai.”

  The line went dead. Keene forced himself to take a deep breath and exhale slowly. He put the phone back in his pocket and continued walking. When he got to the other side of the town square, he saw a building on the corner. It had a few lights on, and he could see someone walking around inside. He started to go in but dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. He continued walking on. But after a few steps, he stopped. He turned back around and went inside.

  The place looked like a grocery store on the outside, but the inside had been completely renovated. The room was dimly lit, and a few candles were strewn around the walls. There were folding chairs covering the floor and a stage at the front with musical instruments covering it. There were signs pointing people where to go with their kids and then other signs pointing people where to go for what the sign called worship. The place had a very warm and friendly feel about it. It definitely wasn’t like any church he’d ever been in before. There were no pews or huge highback chairs with purple velvet lining everything. There wasn’t even a huge podium for the preacher to speak from, like most churches he’d seen. Just a cool-looking aluminum truss lectern-type thing.

  “Can I help you?”

  He turned around to see a guy, probably close to his age. The guy wore a T-shirt and a zip-up hoodie. He had on sneakers and jeans.

  “Ah, sorry,” Keene said. “I saw the lights on and just thought …”

  “My name’s Scott. I’m one of the pastors here.”

  Keene reached out and took the man’s hand. “Jon Keene.”

  “Never seen you around here, Jon. You visiting?”

  “Something like that. I’m from DC.”

  The man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Me and some of the other guys here are having a small-group Bible study back in one of the classrooms. Care to join us?”

  “Nah. That’s okay,” Keene said. “I need to go.” Then, “I don’t know why; I just thought I’d come inside and look.”

  “You have a church back home?”

  “Lots of churches in DC,” Keene said.

  The guy laughed. “Yeah … That’s not what I meant.”

  “No, not really. I used to go. Haven’t for a while.”

  The pastor seemed to think about that for a second. “Maybe you should.”

  Keene didn’t say anything back. He didn’t want to be rude to the man.

  “Why are you here, friend?” The pastor narrowed his eyes.

  Keene shrugged his shoulders. He really didn’t have a good reason. Honestly, he didn’t know.

  “Okay,” the pastor said. “Well, think about this: There is no such thing as coincidence. There is no such thing as chance. The Bible says God has ordained all things. That nothing happens without His willing it or making it come to pass. So let me answer that for you, if I may.”

  Keene shrugged again.

  “You’re here because God wants you here. It’s that simple. I can’t pretend to know the details of that, but make no mistak
e. You’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”

  “That’s funny,” Keene said. “Someone else told me that recently.”

  “Sounds like a smart person.”

  “Yeah. Maybe.”

  The pastor looked at him for a second and folded his arms. “Listen. I need to get back in there. But before I go, I feel like I’m supposed to tell you something. I don’t know what it means or if it’s even what you need to hear. But I’m going to tell you anyway.”

  “Yeah, what’s that?”

  “You think you know who God is, but you don’t. And the only way to find that out is to spend time with Him.”

  He reached down and pulled something out from under one of the chairs. It was a Bible.

  “Here. My gift to you. You want to know who God is? Read this.”

  He shook Keene’s hand again and turned to leave.

  “You can let yourself out whenever you’re ready to go. If you’re still here when I’m done, we can talk some more.”

  Keene looked at the Bible. “It’s a pretty thick read, pastor. I’m kind of short on time.”

  The guy was halfway down the hall. He called back over his shoulder, “Start with the Gospel of John. New Testament. Great place to start.” He continued walking then stopped and turned around again. “Or who knows,” he said with a chuckle. “Maybe you could pray that God would just send you a prophet to explain it!”

  CHAPTER 58

  When Keene woke up, he realized he had done something he hadn’t done in almost a decade. He’d slept in. The clock read 9:45 a.m. He wanted to be angry with himself for sleeping so late, but he couldn’t. The reality of it was he’d needed it. His shoulder, while healing surprisingly quickly, was still stiff. The events of the past two weeks had left him running on empty. And he’d tossed and turned all night, knowing that today was the deadline. And no one had any clue what, if anything, was coming.

  The shower was small and the water was barely more than a drizzle, but at least it was hot. He worked his big frame around inside the cramped space and let the heat loosen the stiffness. He stood there for ten minutes before finally shutting the water off.

  When he left the motel, he noticed that there was an unusual amount of activity going on around the square. Down the street, he saw at least three news vans and people gathering around. As he got closer, he noticed that an area had been set up with a small podium and several microphones. A few sheriff’s deputies were gathered around, as well as some other men, dressed in business suits. This didn’t look like anything having to do with the holiday. This had a more ominous tone, he thought.

  Drawing closer still, he began to hear the statement that one of the men in uniform was giving. Given his age and the brass on his uniform, he deduced that this was the sheriff himself. The man was saying that the missing law enforcement officers had all been found. The bodies had all been hidden, and the men were all killed in the same way. The officers had been located via the GPS trackers attached to their cars. And upon arrival at each scene, it was noted that the men had been killed in the same manner. Each had been shot, execution style. Ballistics would confirm the exact type of weapon used, but they were pretty sure that they were looking at AK-47 rounds.

  The thing most disturbing, the sheriff was saying, was that this was not an isolated incident. They now knew similar executions had occurred along most of the Texas border. He and the other sheriffs across the state were forming a joint task unit to investigate and bring whoever had done this to justice.

  He finished his statement, and the array of questions began hurling at the man. Reporters shouted over one another and pushed and jockeyed for position, trying to get more information. Keene watched the scene unfold and began to get a sickening feeling in his gut. This was more than just a drug cartel declaring war against the border police. He was sure of it. He had a little over an hour until his meeting with the informant. In the meantime, he had to talk to that sheriff.

  It was a little after 7:00 p.m., with the time change, when Taylor and Boz arrived in Mumbai. The initial plan had been to stop for the night, check in with Jennings and Keene, and then get started finding Marianne Levy in the morning. That had all changed now.

  Taylor had been using the satellite feeds across the Atlantic to dig further on her laptop. She had spent most of the entire twelve-and-a-half hour flight bouncing from one secure site to another, hacking her way in at every turn. She had assured Jennings that no one would be able to trace her and that there would be no way it could come back to him or the agency. He hadn’t even batted an eye. “Do it,” he said, as he walked away from the tarmac.

  The normal commercial flight time to Mumbai was anywhere from fourteen to sixteen hours, depending on stops and layovers. Jennings, however, had called back the Gulfstream-5 that had taken Keene to Texas, saving them the extra couple hours. The good news was they would get there faster. The bad news, they had less time to find the missing director.

  Nevertheless, Taylor had lived up to her reputation. She worked under the assumption that Marianne would not be flying commercial, if she left again. So she got a list of every second- and third-tier airport within a two-hundred-mile radius of Mumbai. It took awhile, but seven hours into the flight, she had a hit. A private airstrip south of the city had acquired a charter. The plane was a Bombardier 300 luxury jet. She pulled the manifest for the charter and found that the flight was headed to Dubai. It had one passenger, a female, American. And no checked baggage.

  As their own G-5 taxied in, they were notified that the flight crew would need a minimum of three hours to turn the aircraft around: systems checks, refueling, and a new crew. There was no telling how long this chase would go, and they were instructed by Jennings to make sure that they had fresh legs behind the controls. Taylor and Boz decided they would take the three hours to grab some dinner and check in.

  A car was waiting for them when they deplaned. The driver introduced himself as the CIA liaison to the region and announced he would take them to a house where they could get cleaned up. The drive was short, and the house was typical for the area. Just another unassuming residence.

  “Shower’s in there.” The man pointed as they entered the house. “There’s stuff in the fridge, though I can’t promise it’s still good.” He laughed. “Here are the keys to the car.” He threw them to Boz. “GPS has the airport plugged in already. When you’re ready to head back, just follow the little lady’s instructions.”

  “You’re not staying?” Taylor asked.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “No can do. I’m meeting a guy an hour from now.” He pulled the blinds back and looked out the window. “There’s my ride now.” He opened the door and stepped out. “There’s an area of town about a mile that way,” he pointed down the street, “has some eating places and shops and stuff. If you guys want something to eat, I’d go there. It’s pretty safe, but you two will stick out like a sore thumb, so just keep your eyes open.”

  “I’m pretty familiar with the area,” Boz said, to Taylor’s surprise. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

  “Really? How’s that, Boz?”

  Boz just smiled at her.

  “Okay then,” she said. “I’m going to shower. Be out in ten minutes.”

  Boz laughed this time.

  “What?” she said defensively.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Just never met a woman that actually took a ten-minute shower. But, okay.”

  “Just call Jennings and tell him what we’re doing,” she said smartly. “And find out what Jon’s doing. He should be meeting that guy any minute now.”

  CHAPTER 59

  Keene stopped at the fork in the road. Up ahead, on the left, stood the house. He looked around outside the windows for any sign of danger, but there was nothing. He was the only one—no, the only thing—out here for miles. He reached for his phone and called Jennings.

  “I’m here,” he said.

  “See anything?”

  “Just some ab
andoned house about four hundred yards up. This place is literally out in the middle of nowhere. Not to mention, I’m less than a quarter mile away from the border.”

  “You recon the area?”

  “No time. I had a chat with the sheriff down here about those missing cops.”

  “Yeah? What’s that about?”

  “They found them. All of them. More than a hundred border patrol agents, sheriff’s deputies, and local cops. All shot, execution style, with the same type of weapon.”

  “Sounds like the drug cartels are ramping it up.”

  “What if it’s not drug cartels?”

  “That’s why you’re talking to Hector.”

  “Hector’s a midlevel drug runner. We’re wasting time. He’s not going to know anything.”

  “Just talk to him. Hector is curious, if nothing else. He’s got his nose in everything. If there’s anything going on down there, he’ll know. And he’s real jittery, I’m told. So watch your back.”

  “You’re getting senile in your old age. You forget who you’re talking to here?”

  “Listen to me,” Jennings said coldly. “This kid isn’t some ordinary street punk. He’s a killer. Don’t forget it. I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. Just don’t be too cocky to think you’re the only one with skills.”

  “Any word from Megan and Boz?”

  “They just called in. They’re in Mumbai. But only for another couple hours.”

  “What’d they find?”

  “Small, expensive charter leaving a private terminal to Dubai. American woman. Fits the description.”

  “It’s her,” he said between clenched teeth. “Should be me over there.”

  “You just worry about Hector. I want to know what he wants.”

  “I gotta go. If he is watching, then he’s watching me sitting here talking to you. I’ll call you when we’re done.” He paused for a few seconds then, “And for the record, I still think this is stupid. There’s a possible attack happening today, and I’m down here talking to a drug monkey.”