Boz turned away from the screen to see that his friend had arrived. He stood and took the younger man in a bear hug.
“Eli Craig! How are you?” he said as they broke their embrace. Boz stretched his arm out and offered a seat.
“We’re not here to talk about me,” Eli said, sitting. “What’s the word? They aren’t telling us anything.”
“The word is, we’re in a bad way,” Boz said somberly. “It’s a long story, so I’ll have to start at the beginning.”
“Go on, then.” Eli sat back in his chair and grabbed a handful of peanuts.
Boz recounted everything that had happened, from the first phone call he had received from Calvin three months ago to the meeting in the Oval Office with Keene and Taylor. He told him everything he knew about the Prophet and how he thought all of it was directly connected. He continued on with the Marianne Levy situation, the assassination attempt of President Grant, the attack, and finished with the bear hug they’d shared just a moment ago.
“So let me get this straight,” Eli said. “You get a real-live prophet telling you to tell the nation to repent and no one does anything about it?”
“We tried. President Grant was going to tell the nation when he was shot.”
Eli looked across at him. “Hmmm.”
“Hmmm … what?”
“I think he waited too long, mate. You and I both know that when God says do something, you don’t piddle around. Now do you?”
“Calvin’s a good man, Eli. He was just trying to make sure this wasn’t some crackpot.”
“Right, but he knew better, he did.”
Boz sighed. “Yeah, we both did. But that’s neither here nor there. Ultimately, this was God’s plan. No way this wasn’t happening if He didn’t want it to.”
“Right. There’s that.” Eli nodded. “What are we to do about all of this now?”
“One of the last things we heard from this Prophet guy was this: when the time was right, he would find us. So I have to believe that God is not completely going to give the United States over without giving us a chance to right the ship, so to speak.”
“And that means you want to fight back.”
Boz nodded.
“Ah … there’s my old boy!” Eli said, smacking the table. Then, “Nuclear propulsion has come a right long ways in the last ten years. But your boys are still going to need at least a week to ten days to get back. That’s if they’re already en route.”
Again Boz nodded.
“And my boys could be there in two. But we aren’t allowed to come help our little offspring nation, now are we?”
Boz shook his head.
“What are we to do about that, you suppose?”
Boz shrugged.
“Right. Well, it’s a good thing one of us has been thinking, mate! If you don’t know what to do, I guess I’ll have to tell you now. Won’t I?”
“You know I can’t ask you officially, Eli. I’m not here as an emissary.”
“Boz, you’re not just my brother in Christ. Far as I’m concerned, you’re my family. And one thing we take seriously around here is family.”
“What about your men? What about your prime minister?”
Eli made a sour face and waved his hand. “Pffft! First of all, that tired ol’ windbag is about as useless as a screen door on a boat. Second, I’ve got twenty ships, with twenty-five hundred sailors and soldiers on board each one, standing by waiting for me to tell them to set sail. Also on those twenty ships, I have seventeen Tornado GR4s and twenty-five JSFs,” he said, referring to the Royal Air Force and Naval fighter jets. “And I’ve got pilots for them as well.”
Mac nudged Boz and held his hand out. “Fifty quid. I told you. I know my boy!”
Boz waved the man off with a smile. Then to Eli, “You know you could be exiled, or worse. You’ll lose everything.”
Eli leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “Three things,” he said. “One, I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you. And I mean that in both senses of the word. Two, I’ve worked hard to earn my position in MI-5. Before that, I worked hard to earn the respect of my men in the Royal Navy. They trust me. And besides that, they want to go. I’ve talked to every ranking officer of every ship standing by. They and their men are ready and willing to go when I say.”
“What about your director general?” Boz asked, referring to the head of MI-5.
“Ah,” Eli said, waving a hand, “he hates Bungard. He said if he were thirty years younger, he’d do it himself.”
“And three?” Boz asked.
“Oh, right,” Eli said, remembering his list. “And three, I’ve been praying about it since I heard about the initial attack on the left coast.”
“And?”
“And I think you’re right. I don’t think God’s done with the United States yet.”
Boz nodded, and they all stood up. “What’s the plan?”
“The plan is we go get in my car and take it to my ship.” Eli grabbed his keys off the table and stood up. “And then we go kick the Chinese back to the Great Wall. And then, I say we knock that thing down, too. Just to prove a point!”
CHAPTER 69
It was late in the evening when Keene had his first opportunity to sit down at the table with all the senior ranking officers who were on base. He had spent the majority of his time with Major General McIntyre, the commander of the 101st, finding his way around and getting something to eat. Since his arrival with the 81st, several more units and divisions had reported. Some were still scattered to the west and making their way in, while a few more were to the north and east waiting for orders. All in all, they estimated around eighty thousand troops in country. A good portion of those were already on the East Coast, particularly at Fort Benning. The latest report showed there had been few deaths at Benning, though there were many injured.
Keene looked around the room. Some faces he knew. But most of them he’d never met. That was logical, seeing as how there were officers from every branch sitting around the table. And the fact that he’d been out for so long. He finally gave a loud whistle to get everyone’s attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen. We’ve got work to do.”
The ten or so commanding officers quieted down and came to attention.
“For those of you who don’t know me, my name is General Jon Keene. As you know, President Walker has given complete operational command to Director Jennings of the CIA and Secretary of the Navy, Bob Sykes. I have been put in charge of this operation. Which means that I’m running this soup sandwich.”
That earned him a few grins.
“So here’s the deal: Right now, the Chinese are dropping in troops in every major city that the Chao Qis have already hit. Our job is to get everything we’ve got and can move, and head east. Once we get to Knoxville, we’ll split. Most of us will head north to Albany. Some of us, however, are going to meet up with infantry from Fort Benning.
“Jennings is working on a way to communicate to the citizens to head east. The idea is to get as many people east of the Appalachian Mountains as we can. We can defend the mountain passes. They’re a big funnel. The only way to get foot soldiers across them is to airlift them in or come through those roads. Once we have those passes secure, we’ll have regular patrols covering the secondary roads that would also give them access. The units we’re going to meet up with from Benning, this will be their primary objective, as well as holding the southern front and allowing the Chinese to move northward. By that time, our boys will be back from the Middle East.
“I spoke to Jennings just a few moments ago. He told me that the forward base in Afghanistan is all but packed up and loaded. They will be landing at Andrews over an eight-hour period, starting twenty-one thirty hours in two days. They will have some air support but not enough if the Chao Qis decide to engage. Other companies are double-timing it to do the same in Pakistan and Iraq. They’re going to be coming in light. Pretty much just bodies until the Navy gets our gear back.
Any questions so far?”
A hand shot up. Keene pointed to him. “Major General McIntyre?”
“Thank you, sir,” the officer said. “We have a lot of gear here at Fort Campbell. And we have the means to fly a lot of it. If we could get some air support for transport …”
Keene nodded. “Unfortunately, we’re not going to get much. Jennings is afraid to send us anyone right now. If DC is attacked, they’re going to need everything they have. And they’re expecting it. The Chinese know they have to take DC in order to take the country. They can level New York, Chicago, and every major city in this country. But Washington is our heart. We lose that, we just lose.”
“So then we’re grounded,” McIntyre said.
“Not entirely. I’m sure you’ve met Majors Hurt and Caldwell,” he said pointing to the two Air Force pilots. “Majors?”
Major Hurt cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Thomas and I were two of the first to go out and meet the Chao Qis before getting called back. We took some minor damage to our aircraft, so we were rerouted here. I spoke with Corporal Murray and his mechanics. We’re flight ready as we speak.”
“So,” Keene continued, “Jennings says he expects the Chinese to come through Montreal once they secure the Midwest. When they come, they’re going to come hard. They’ll most certainly hit with an air attack first. That means the Chao Qis will come from all directions. Unless we can stop them. And that’s the point of us securing the passes. If we have anti-aircraft artillery set up, we can help out until our troops can engage them. If we can make it to Albany before they cross over the northern border, we can do some serious damage. Maybe even push them back a little.
“We need to get every truck, cargo plane, tank, and whatever else we can find packed up and ready to move in five hours. Once we get east of the mountains, we should be clear of any enemy encounter. From there, we need to hump it to Albany. We’ll send as many cargo planes as we can with artillery and men. Majors Hurt and Caldwell will give air support. And everyone flies under the radar. I don’t want a single bird in the air above seven hundred feet. Commander, I want those Chinooks, Apaches, and Blackhawks loaded down with as many airborne as they’ll carry. The rest will have to go by road.
“The men from the forward Afghan base will make land in forty hours. It’s a little over fourteen hours to Albany. That gives us a little over twenty-six hours to get there and set up base.”
“Sir, if we know the Chinese are coming through Montreal, why doesn’t Sykes just order a hit on the city?” one of the officers asked. “We could cripple their offensive.”
Keene nodded. “You’re right, we could. But you’re talking about leveling one of the largest cities in Canada. Jennings and Sykes aren’t willing to do that. Too many civilians.”
The group of officers became angry and started talking all at once. And Keene agreed with them. The United States had already received its own fair share of damage. And Canadians were just sitting idly by. Although they were weak militarily and couldn’t afford the Chinese turning on them, their lack of action spoke volumes. Nevertheless, the apathy of the Canadian government didn’t justify the slaughter of Canadian citizens. So Jennings and Sykes forbade any attack on Canadian soil.
“Listen,” Keene said, calling everyone back to attention. “Albany is already being evacuated. Civilian casualties will be far less than if we hit Montreal. That’s the plan.”
“How do we know for sure they won’t move in sooner?” another officer asked.
“We don’t,” Keene admitted. “But the Chinese are meticulous in their planning. And they aren’t stupid. They know if they move in from the north right now, they’ll be spread too thin. They will have to wait until they can bring up more infantry and artillery from the south. They will come in from all three sides. That’s why it’s important for us to get those mountain passes covered and get Fort Benning up and completely operational again. If we can shut down their attack from coming over the mountains, and if we can keep them from advancing north from Atlanta, we have a good shot at holding them off once they come from Montreal.”
Keene looked around at the officers sitting around the table. He knew that they knew what he was asking them to do was a long shot at best. But it was all they had. Right now, securing the eastern part of the country was their only option. With the West Coast gone, people living east of the Appalachian Mountains made up nearly eighty percent of the remaining population. They had a little over five hours before the first transport was to leave. They had work to do.
“That’ll be all,” he said, dismissing them. “I’ll be in my quarters if anyone needs me.”
Keene left the building and walked back across the street to the officer’s quarters building. He was exhausted from the nonstop driving from the Mexican border. He decided he needed a long, hot shower and at least an hour of sleep. It might be the last time he had either again for quite a while.
He stripped down and turned the water on as hot as he could stand it. Twenty minutes later he came out feeling slightly better. His shoulder was healing fine but still hurt like crazy. He thought about the Russian. He had crossed paths with her at least four times now. This was the first time, though, they had ever come face-to-face. He vowed as he changed the bandage that if he made it out of this alive, he was going to hunt her down.
He finished dressing the wound and came out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed. He took his watch off, set his alarm for ninety minutes, and set it on the small bedside table. He stared at the book sitting beside the lamp. He argued with himself for a couple minutes before he finally picked it up but then set it back down. He looked up and said, “I think it’s about time You and I had a talk.” He gave a chastising laugh at himself. I can’t believe I’m doing this, he thought. He looked up again. “I’ve hated You for a long time. You know that? And I’ve been perfectly fine with that. But then You bring all of … of this!” He was starting to feel the anger well up inside him. “Wasn’t it enough that You took her? And now You throw me into this! Some crazy idiot who says You talk to him and says You’re going to destroy this country because people have turned away from You?”
He stood up and started pacing back and forth. “And then President Grant, a man who is faithful to You—” He jabbed a finger into the air. “I mean, he was going to stand up in front of the country and tell everyone what You supposedly want. And You let him get shot in the head! Is this what You want?”
A soft knock came at his door. He opened it to find an MP standing there.
“Everything okay in here, sir?”
“I’m fine.” He closed the door again and walked back over to the bed and sat down. His head was pounding, and that shower had drained him of every last bit of adrenaline that had been keeping him up.
“Listen,” he said, looking up again. “I don’t know what You want from me. Boz says You have a purpose for all of this. I sure wish I knew what it was. ‘Cause right now, this is about the most screwed-up thing I’ve ever heard of. I mean, look at this! One moment I’m trying to find this guy to find out what You’ve told him. The next thing I know, I’m in command of our entire military forces—which by the way, really? Suddenly I’m the most qualified guy to do this?—trying to save a country that, quite honestly, I don’t think stands a chance. So if You’ve got something to say to me, then why don’t You speak to me? Huh? Why don’t You just tell me what You want!”
The room fell silent. He looked down at his watch and saw that twenty of his ninety minutes had already passed. The Bible was still sitting there. He blew out a long sigh and picked it up. “Boz said You speak to us through this. Since You won’t talk, maybe You’ll say something to me in here, huh?” He started thumbing through the pages. That pastor from Texas said to start in the Gospel of John. He didn’t even know where that was, so he just continued to turn pages until he saw a heading that caught his eye. “A Letter to the Exiles”, in the book of Jeremiah. He recalled that Jeremiah was one of those people t
he Prophet quoted in his video to President Grant. He lay back on the bed and began to read. And he didn’t know why, but he felt his breath catch and his pulse quicken as he got to verse eleven: “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope.”
He stopped and reread it. And then he reread it again. And he didn’t know if it was because he was so tired or because he just wanted to believe it, but a sense of calm and peace began to come over him. He had barely finished verse fifteen when his eyes fell shut and he drifted off to sleep.
CHAPTER 70
Taylor threw the phone on the seat beside her and put the Mercedes in gear when Marianne got into the cab. She pulled out of the parking spot and followed a couple car lengths behind as the cab turned onto Al Jazira Street and then onto Salahuddin Road. From there the car turned onto the main road, E11, and headed south.
Going this direction, Taylor had a pretty good idea where they were headed. Many of the luxury hotels and long-term rental apartments were located in a section of the city known as Palm Jumeirah, a set of man-made islands that, from the air, looked like a giant palm tree. The daring project had made international news while under construction and added more than three hundred miles to the Dubai shoreline. The fact that they were headed in that direction now didn’t surprise her, but it did give her a little pause. This was one of the most highly trafficked areas of the city. How she was going to get to Marianne and not make a big scene was going to be tough. Once she saw where the woman was staying she could maybe make her move at night, but that would have to be determined by where Marianne was staying and what the nightlife was in the area.
The 13: Fall Page 26
