Silenced

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “Worthy,” one said, “but not our primary goal.”

  “Or responsibility,” another said.

  “We’re going to be living hand to mouth until we’re caught. How can we worry about Magnor?”

  “How can we not?”

  Chappell held up a hand. “I want to be careful not to browbeat anyone into agreeing—”

  “Sure you don’t.”

  “No, seriously, I don’t. But let me tell you where I am on all this. As I’ve told brother Paul, I feel a tremendous guilt, a horrific sense of responsibility for the lives lost in Rome and London and here. I know it’s not my fault, but I sensed Magnor was dangerous. Eventually I knew it. There’s no question he’s not a true brother. We know that. The least I can do is help Paul get him. It may not do anything but make me feel better and buy us some time. But it should protect the world from more senseless attacks, and that’s something, isn’t it? No one else here has to cooperate. I’m the one he wants to communicate with, so I say let him. I’ll tell him whatever he needs to hear to persuade him we can help. And then I’ll work with Paul on putting him out of circulation.”

  Jae asked her father to come to the guest room where they had put her. Her plan was to find her copy of the letter from Paul’s father, but she had forgotten that the first things her father would see were the New Testament discs.

  “What’s this?” he said.

  “Like my husband, I’m just trying to see what these crazies are all about.”

  “You’re trying to see what’s got into Paul, aren’t you?”

  “That too.”

  He sat heavily on the bed. “Come to any conclusions?”

  “Well, hardly the ones you and your team came to.”

  “What, you thought he had merely turned over a new leaf?”

  She nodded. “Frankly, yes. It happens.”

  “It happens but it doesn’t last. We are what we are, Jae. New leaves are like New Year’s resolutions. The only one I ever kept was the year I resolved to make no resolutions.”

  He laughed. She didn’t.

  “People don’t change, Jae. My mother told me on my fiftieth birthday that I was no surprise to her. I kicked in the womb, came out screaming—and kicking. Got in trouble in preschool—no less—for, guess what?”

  “Kicking?”

  “Kicking. Then I was king of the hill, Eagle Scout (in spite of myself), class president, scholarship football player, ROTC—you name it. You know the history.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “No surprise to Mama. She said I was the same at fifty as before I was born. Kicking, screaming, and running the show.”

  “Have I never changed either, Dad?”

  He appeared to study her. “Can’t say that you have, honey. You were always sweet and pretty and smart. That ’bout sums you up, doesn’t it? You were mostly obedient, didn’t challenge authority. That still cover you?”

  Unfortunately, yes, Jae decided. And that had to be why she found the New Testament stuff so impactful. She had never been taught to question, to investigate. Studying was one thing. Learning. Expanding your base of knowledge. But the man who had made a life of kicking and screaming and running the show had ingrained in her—with the implicit support of a docile wife—that certain things simply were the way they were. You didn’t question that religion was a farce, that God was a creation of man, that anything spiritual or outside the realm of the material was akin to fairy tales but not so harmless. People didn’t change. How could they? The only values worth fighting and dying for were humanism and the preeminence of the state.

  “You were going to show me something, Jae.”

  “Yeah,” she said, ashamed of herself and regretting it before she even started looking for the letter. She was going to do this thing, and there was no way around it. This single act didn’t have to reflect on Paul. After all, he merely read the letter; he didn’t write it. How could he be held responsible for something his father believed in? What would it prove? Surely not that he had flipped. Not necessarily.

  On the other hand, under the current circumstances, what Jae had decided to do could also carry enough weight to cost Paul—and her—everything the two of them ever held dear.

  18

  PAUL KNEW IT WAS FOOLHARDY, but time was short. Circumstances called for bold measures. What was the worst that could happen to him? He might be suspected, lose respect in the eyes of Chancellor Dengler. In two months his standing with the International Government and intelligence community would be moot anyway. On the drive back to his hotel, he put in a call to Dengler’s office. Naturally, he wound up, late on a Saturday night, speaking to someone at the security desk.

  “I wouldn’t even know where to begin to get a message to the chancellor over a weekend,” the man said. “He knows who you are?”

  “Yes. Patch me through to his secretary’s phone, and I’ll leave a voice mail, or—”

  “Not allowed to do that.”

  “I don’t see the harm,” Paul said.

  “You’re not sitting where I’m sitting. Best I can do, I think, is leave that voice mail myself. Give me all the information again, and I’ll put it on her phone and his chief of staff’s phone. How’s that?”

  Paul told him to simply say that Dr. Stepola had an urgent need to speak with the chancellor as soon as possible.

  The letter from Paul’s father shook in Ranold’s hand. He turned colors, rose, paced, slammed his fist on Jae’s bedside table, making the New Testament discs bounce.

  “How long have you known about this?” he said.

  “Awhile. Paul doesn’t—”

  “And you didn’t think I needed to know?”

  “—know I have it.” Jae felt like a little girl again, cowering before her father.

  “This proves it, Jae! Don’t you see?”

  “No, it doesn’t, Dad. It proves nothing. Just because his father happened to—”

  “How long has Paul known about this? Since he was twelve?”

  “No! I’m sure he’s been aware of it only a little longer than I have. It had to have the same effect on him that it’s had on us.”

  “He always idolized the memory of his father, Jae, even though he never knew him. This had to affect him deeply.”

  “I’m guessing it embarrassed him, Dad. Humiliated him. Otherwise, why would he have hidden it?”

  “This had to be what he was having Trina Thomas evaluate! He wanted to know if it was real. Well, I know real when I read it. Stepola Sr. bit on the Christian thing hook, line, and sinker. But didn’t you—or he—tell me his mother was not just an atheist but also antireligion?”

  Jae nodded. “She was.”

  “Wasn’t it she who talked Paul into religious studies? Was that just a sham, covering for her own secret beliefs? Is it possible Paul was raised in this? That he’s been a plant in the NPO since day one?”

  “Now you’re getting paranoid, Dad. I would have known that. He couldn’t have fooled me all these years. Anyway, if it were true and he had been devout, how do you explain the other women?”

  “I don’t know, but—”

  She waved him off. “No, there’s no way. I know Paul. If he’s turned even sympathetic toward the rebels, it’s been only in the last half year or so.”

  “Don’t start covering for him now.”

  Jae started, catching her father involuntarily glancing at her New Testament discs. “Yeah, I’m a secret believer too, Dad. We’re all out to ruin your life, overthrow the USSA, and take over the world for Jesus. We’ve brainwashed Brie and Connor and they’re working on Mom right now. Please, Dad. If I had anything concrete on Paul, do you think I’d have even shown you that letter?”

  Ranold held up a finger as if getting a call. He stood and turned his back to Jae. “Yes, yes sir. When was this? . . . No, no. He knows protocol. . . . No, we’re sure not ready to expose him just yet, though I’d say we’re closer than we’ve ever been. . . . If I had to guess, I’d say a week to te
n days. Let me call Paul. Far as I know he suspects nothing. . . . Rumors of what? . . . You don’t say. Well, something like that would sure put the spotlight on who’s with us and who’s agin’ us, wouldn’t it? And this is supposed to happen Monday? Got to say I love it.”

  Paul was within sight of his hotel when a light, cold rain began. When the tone in his mouth told him he had a call, he hoped it would be someone close enough to Dengler whom he could persuade to get the chancellor on the phone this very night. But it was his father-in-law.

  “Just checking in, Paul. How’re things?”

  “Things are good, Dad. Jae and the kids get in all right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. Great to have them. You’re a lucky man.”

  Paul hesitated. “Sir?”

  “Yes?”

  “We’ve known each other too long for me to buy that you’re just checking in.”

  “What,” Ranold said, “I don’t ever make social calls?”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “Well, you know me better than most. There is a . . . ah . . . rather delicate issue that’s arisen here, and I need your take on it.”

  “Shoot.”

  “USSA NPO brass got a call from someone high in the chancellor’s office saying you’re trying to reach Dengler by phone this weekend.”

  “True.”

  “Now, Paul, I know you impressed the chancellor in your meetings with him, but you know as well as I do that that doesn’t make you guys buddies. There is protocol, which has always been one of your strengths. I don’t have to tell you that just because I have a healthy give-and-take meeting with the regional governor at the White House doesn’t mean he and I are going to chat by phone a day or two later.”

  “What’re you saying, Ranold? Dengler is offended that I want to talk with him personally?”

  “I doubt he even knows of the request. If I were on his staff, I wouldn’t tell him. I’d do what this person has done and check with your superiors to see if they’re aware of this breach.”

  “Breach?”

  “Are you not listening, Paul? It’s a breach of protocol—at the very least a breach of etiquette or common courtesy (common sense, if you ask me)—for you to think you have the standing with the chancellor of the International Government of Peace that allows you to ask him to call you.”

  “So unless I had something of a life-or-death nature, something that concerned the security of the world, I shouldn’t even consider such an approach?”

  “Exactly. And what embarrasses me, Paul, as your mentor, is that you know this. You teach this. I’ve heard you counsel others on chain of command.”

  “You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  “Of course. I know protocol as well as anyone in international service.”

  “Then you’ll apologize for this and—”

  “No.”

  “What? Why—?”

  “No, sir. I will not.”

  Ranold swore. “What is not getting through that thick skull of yours?”

  “Ranold, I know what constitutes an issue worthy of the chancellor’s personal attention, and I believe he knows that I understand such things. I need to talk with him by phone or in person as soon as humanly possible, and I am confident that if he knew that, he would not be tattling on me for asking but would give me the benefit of the doubt and accede to my request. If you still have the clout you seem to think you do, maybe you could put it to good use by wiping the nose of whatever brat in his office spends more time whistle-blowing than getting the man to call me. Can you do that?”

  “Who do you think you’re talking to, Paul?”

  “To a man who once had the power to do just what I’m asking. I believe you still do, and I know you believe you still do. So prove it. Dengler asked for the best man the USSA had for this job, and he got me. So they ought to start treating me that way.”

  “Paul, what in the world is so important that you have to discuss it with Dengler himself?”

  “If I could tell you that, I would have. Now can you get him to call me or not?”

  “I can sure try.”

  “Thank you.”

  “That boy’s on thin ice,” Ranold said.

  “Dad,” Jae said, “what is going on?”

  Ranold told her, including the rumor of the decree coming from International requiring citizens to pledge their loyalty in writing. “Then Paul scolds me for taking the side of Dengler’s staff, who are naturally offended that someone at his level casually calls and asks to speak with the man himself.”

  “Paul understands all that stuff,” Jae said, as they walked downstairs. “Must be important.”

  “It had better be huge, but if it is, shouldn’t we know about it?”

  Ranold took a call and told Jae that her mother and the kids would be home within the hour. “I’ve got another call to make,” he said.

  Jae was intrigued to see her father in action, playing to his strengths. And part of her was proud of Paul for not caving in to the pressure. At least it sounded like pressure. Her father had acted insulted that Paul had spoken to him with impudence, yet now she believed Ranold was using the very words—or at least tone—Paul had recommended.

  Mr. Decenti called back the NPO contact who had informed him of the issue. “Listen,” he said, “you tell that snot-nosed meddler in Dengler’s office that if the best guy we have to offer says he needs to talk to the chancellor, then he ought to get the message to his boss. Our guy is seasoned enough to know when something’s important enough to go to the top. If it turns out to be a waste of Dengler’s time, I’m sure he’ll let Stepola know that, and he’ll have to suffer the consequences. . . . No, just don’t take no for an answer. Get the ball back in their court and see if they snub us.”

  Paul was in his room for half an hour when he got a call from Dengler’s chief of staff. “First, sir,” the man said, “I want to apologize for the delay. I take full responsibility.”

  “No problem.”

  “No, Doctor, it was my responsibility to get your message to Chancellor Dengler immediately, and I dropped the ball.”

  “Let’s put it behind us.”

  “Thank you, sir; that’s most generous of you. Now I can transfer you directly to the chancellor’s line, or he is willing to meet with you personally, if that would be more convenient.”

  “You realize I’m in Paris.”

  “I informed him of that, Doctor. He assures me that if you feel a face-to-face is mandatory, he will be happy to come your way or to rally a charter to bring you here.”

  “Speaking by secure phone will be sufficient.”

  Seconds later, Dengler came on. “Hold for a moment, Dr. Stepola, while we confirm that the scrambler is initiated. . . . There we go. First, I assume you know that if we had a lead on Styr Magnor, you would be the first to be informed.”

  “Of course.”

  “All right, then. How may I help you?”

  “First, Mr. Chancellor, I’m sorry if you had to go back to the office to do this.”

  “Think nothing of it.”

  “All right, let me be as brief and direct as I’m able. I hope you know that if I thought anyone else could make this decision and take the action I’m recommending, I would not have bothered you with it.”

  “One more apology, Doctor, and I am going home.”

  Paul chuckled. In spite of himself, he almost liked this man. “Sir, I have made significant progress, inroads into rebel factions.”

  “Excellent.”

  “I am actually to the point where I may be just days from personal contact with Magnor himself.”

  There was a pause, as if Dengler was letting this sink in. “So he is part of the zealot underground.”

  “It appears that way.”

  “How can we help?”

  “Needless to say, my wish is to keep all my contacts, sources, and locations classified. The fewer who know, the better.”

  “I would not even want to know and can i
magine no scenario in which my knowing would benefit anyone.”

  “I wouldn’t want to burden you with it, Mr. Chancellor. What I need and want are these two things: One, if and when I can arrange a meeting between myself and Magnor, I would like to inform International intelligence and NPO International as close to the contact time as possible.”

  “To avoid any leaks or any activity that might spook the target.”

  “Precisely.”

  “And so they can make the arrest an overwhelming success.”

  “Right again, sir.”

  “And second?”

  “This, I realize, is a long shot, but I’m wondering if you would consider delaying Monday’s announcement.”

  Silence.

  “Sir?”

  “I am here, Doctor. Puzzled, but here.”

  “Your plan may be brilliant, Chancellor Dengler, and it wouldn’t surprise me if it is the noisiest and most significant action of your tenure.”

  “And yet you would like it postponed.”

  “Again, so as not to scare off the prey.”

  “Hmm.”

  Paul waited. He knew what he was asking.

  “Regardless when the announcement is made,” Dengler said, “citizens will have but sixty days to comply. At the end of that period, International enforcement will require monumental amounts of man-hours and dollars.”

  “Is that not an argument for delaying?” Paul said.

  “Good point. The fact is that the plan is known throughout the intelligence committee, and try as we might, there will be no containing it. News of the upcoming decree is already undoubtedly sweeping the globe, and a delay would signal weakness on our part, wavering.”

  Paul took a deep breath. “I guess the decision, then, comes down to how important it is to actually capture Magnor.”

  Dengler was silent again for a long moment. “I could sure use you in my office.”

  “Sir?”

  “You have a way of cutting to the heart of an issue.”

  “Thank you,” Paul said.