The Reluctant Prophet_A Love Story

by Karl Morgan

  The convoy slowed and turned left onto a gravel road, which led up a gradual hill. The ride was rough and Zeke bounced and rocked back and forth. His handcuffs were cutting into his wrists and his face was still aching. Twenty minutes later, the SUV stopped. The agent next to him pulled a sack over Zeke's head and cinched it around his neck. Then the vehicles continued. Zeke was panting and sweating inside the bag. He had always been claustrophobic and this was not helping, but he knew better than to bring that up. The FBI agents had been too eager to punch him, and they were technically law enforcement. These men were spies and lived by different rules.

  The vehicle stopped. Zeke could feel the frigid air as the man next to him opened his door and climbed out. Zeke's door opened and he felt someone unbuckling his seatbelt. A man's voice said, "We'll help you out, Mr. Thompson, but don't try anything stupid." As he stepped out, he could feel the crunch of snow under his feet, which immediately brought the sensation of the sand on Maui to his mind. He wished he was there now. A man held each of his arms and led him forward. They stopped and he could hear a door being opened. They moved forward and Zeke felt warm air touching his body. He was inside. They continued for several feet and stopped for another door. After another few seconds, they stopped again and turned him to the right. He stepped forward and felt the room moving downward. Was this an elevator? When the doors opened, they went forward, waiting for another door and then continued for a ways. Finally, a door was opened and Zeke and the men entered. The agent who had been sitting next to him on the vehicle pulled the sack off his head. The second removed Zeke's handcuffs. They were in a small cell, not that different from the one at the San Diego FBI ranch. A man and a woman entered the room. The man set a tray of food down on a small table. The woman sat on the small chair. Everyone but Zeke and the woman left the room and the door locked shut.

  "Please, Zeke, have a seat," she smiled. "I am Attorney General Travers, but please call me Cindy."

  Zeke sat on the metal cot and said, "I've seen you on television."

  "Mr. Thompson, let's cut to the chase," she began. "Were you involved in the crash of Air Force One?"

  "No, ma'am!" he exclaimed. "All I did was warn Director Marshall that it might happen."

  "You expect us to believe you are clairvoyant?"

  "I don't expect anyone to believe me, Cindy, but I saw what I saw."

  "Do you know what really happened?"

  "Yes I do. While I was on the flight here, I could see everything that happened in incredible detail. Don't ask me why this kind of thing happens, but it was like a movie in my mind," Zeke reported.

  "Why did the plane crash?"

  "Tony reported my vision to the vice president and the defense secretary. The secretary ignored it because he doesn't believe in my gift."

  "Why didn't the vice president ask for the inspection?" she asked.

  "He trusted the secretary to do his job. Cindy, you would want the president and vice president to trust you, wouldn't you?"

  She smiled and touched his knee with her hand. "Let me ask the questions today, okay?"

  "I'm sorry."

  "Do you know the status of President Nelson and whether he will survive?" Cindy asked.

  "He is in a medically-induced coma at Walter Reed. His doctors think he has less than a fifty percent chance for recovery."

  "How do you know these things, Zeke? None of that has been reported anywhere."

  "The images just come to me, Cindy. I don't ask for them. They just pop in."

  "If the president dies, that will be a black day for the country," Cindy sighed.

  "You don't know the half of it!" Zeke exclaimed.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Cindy, you know that Vice President Lake has always been more hawkish than President Nelson, right?"

  "That was when he was a blow-hard senator, Zeke. I think Ben has softened his corners."

  Zeke half-smiled and said, "With all due respect, that is crazy and you know it. Lake would love nothing better than an excuse to attack America's enemies. Secretary Albright is his strongest supporter and advocate. If the president dies or has to resign, Lake's fantasies will come true. He can strike anywhere in the world with impunity by saying he is going after those who hurt the president. The people will support him once they learn the president's condition. More than half the Congress will chomp at the bit to fight. Escalation is almost inevitable."

  "You have any more good news, Zeke?" she cringed.

  "The only people who know for a fact that I told Tony about the crash are you, me, Secretary Albright, VP Lake, and Tony. Others heard second hand, but that small group has evidence, either as an eyewitness or from Tony's report. Albright and Lake will take care of each other. Tony, you and I will be collateral damage if we try to stop them."

  Cindy stood and began to pace back and forth. "Zeke, you have to know that my bullshit monitor is flashing like crazy right now. Most likely, you are just making this up. But if, and I emphasize if, your nutty story is true, what can we do?"

  "Attorney General, we have to hope that the president recovers quickly before any of this can happen."

  "Frankly, Zeke, I don't feel very hopeful right now. What do you think is going to happen?"

  "I wish I knew for sure," he noted. "I know there is a future where the president comes back, but I'm not sure I know how to get there." Zeke thought about Bea and the green pills she had given him. Maybe future medicine could help?

  "Zeke, try not to be too miserable here," she replied as she knocked on the door. "I'll see what I can do to get the best doctors in the world on the case. Good luck." The door opened and she walked out. The lock turned. Zeke took a sip of water and bit into the sandwich on his tray.

  Chapter 15

  The following morning, the national press released a statement from the White House stating that unknown agents tampered with the president's plane, causing it to break apart during a flight from Washington, D.C. to Seattle. Fifty people on board died, and President Benjamin Nelson was the sole survivor. The president was in critical condition and the medical staff was unsure of his odds of survival. It was also reported that a single unnamed person was being held as a person of interest in the case. Vice President Andrew Lake had assumed the duties of president during Nelson's recovery. By noon tens of thousands of well-wishers had placed flowers on the gates of the White House and near the two barricades that blocked the roads leading to the crash site. The vice president scheduled a speech on all major networks for that evening to share more information.

  The Maui house was on lockdown. Even though Zeke had not been specifically named as the person of interest, the FBI cordoned off the house and added another twenty agents to the security team. Abe and Sarah were restricted to the inside of their home until further notice. At noon in Hawaii, the Internet exploded with the story of a Washington insider who leaked Zeke's name as the man being held. The leak also provided the names of his family members and their addresses and suggested that Zeke was the leader of a sleeper cell of terrorists aligned either with Russia or Al Qaeda. The FBI immediately took Zeke's sister, Rachel, into protective custody.

  Although Zeke had no access to news or interaction with anyone, he knew everything. He sat on the chair in his cell with his head in his hands. "This can't be happening!" he moaned out loud. He looked up and said, "God, why are you doing this to me? Why did you give me this stupid defect?" His head hung down, and he began to cry, feeling totally alone and helpless while his family suffered. He thought about his notebooks and smiled. Seeing the future had been his life. Up to this moment, it seemed like a game and just an odd coincidence that some things came true. Now he knew there was a purpose and even though the near term looked dismal, he had a job to do that might save the world. Bea's words about the war slipped across his consciousness. Everything he might do was a delaying tactic, putting off the destruction until the Kalideans were ready to help.

  "Zeke, can you hear me?" a voice in h
is mind said.

  "Bea, is that you?" he thought.

  "Yes, Zeke, it's me," she replied. "I wish I could be there with you now, darling, but things have to take their course. I hope you can understand that."

  "I understand, Bea. Do you think it will work out?"

  She laughed and the sound of her laugh warmed him to the core. "Zeke, if there was no chance of success, I wouldn't be talking to you right now, would I?"

  "I guess you're right," he thought back. "Bea, I have had several visions about the next few days, and most of them end with me being executed or shot in the back trying to escape. The few where the president survives aren't much better."

  "What I'm about to say won't make matters any better," she began. "Earlier this morning, I scanned the volumes of your book. From the point in Volume 1 where you talk about this incident until the end of the last volume, all the pages are illegible. That means the next days are still in doubt."

  He chuckled and replied, "You're right, that doesn't make it any better. But I suppose that was to be expected. We all make decisions every minute and any one of them can change our future."

  "Zeke, do you trust me?" she asked.

  "Of course I do," he answered. "Haven't I proven that yet?"

  "Zeke, I'll see you in a couple of days. You have to promise to do what I will tell you then, okay?"

  "I suppose that depends on what you'll tell me."

  "Zeke, that's not good enough. I love you and would never do anything to hurt you. But what I may ask you to do might be unpleasant. Please promise you'll do those things."

  The image of their wedding drifted in front of his eyes. He could smell her perfume and taste her lips and hear the applause of the audience. "I promise I'll do whatever you ask, Bea."

  "Someone's headed your way. I'll see you soon."

  The lock in his door clicked and two men in dark suits came in and locked the door behind them. The first agent said, "Mr. Thompson, I am Agent Carter. Agent Montgomery and I are here to take your statement. He pulled a small recorder from his jacket pocket, pressed a button, and set the device on the table. A red light began to glow. Who is your superior, Mr. Thompson?"

  "I'm sorry but I don't understand."

  "Who ordered you to disable Air Force One?" Agent Montgomery repeated.

  "I had nothing to do with that," Zeke replied. "I only—" Before he could finish, Carter slapped him across the face.

  "I don't think you realize what's going on here, Mr. Thompson," Carter said. "In this compound, you have no rights. There will be no Miranda Warning and you can't have an attorney." He pulled his pistol and pressed it to Zeke's forehead. "If we kill you, no one outside the firm will know or even find your corpse. Now, who is your superior?"

  "I swear to God that I didn't—". Carter pistol whipped him across the temple. Zeke fell over and prayed to pass out. Carter put his pistol in its holster and pulled Zeke up to a sitting position and slapped his cheeks to keep him conscious.

  "Let me try, Carter," Montgomery said. Carter walked over and stood by the doorway while the other agent sat on the chair across from Zeke, whose nose was bleeding and right eye was swelling shut. "Mr. Thompson, let us assume you're telling us the truth for a moment." Zeke nodded warily. "Why did Air Force One go down?"

  "The Air Force screwed up and didn't inspect that plane for two years. There were hidden cracks in the beams that secure the wings to the fuselage. Several bolts were also cracked. During that flight, they hit unexpectedly rough turbulence and all the cracks let go. The left wing fell off; the plane tumbled out of control and crashed."

  "How the hell do you know all of that?" Carter shouted from the door. Montgomery motioned for him to be quiet.

  "Mr. Thompson, can you see the future?" Montgomery asked.

  Zeke nodded slightly and said, "Sometimes."

  "This is a joke!" Carter shouted.

  "Be quiet, Sam!" Montgomery exclaimed. "Mr. Thompson, the details you gave about how the plane crashed seem to match what we have learned, although the source of the defects is still in doubt."

  "Don't tell that sack of shit anything!" Carter complained.

  "If you can tell the future, Mr. Thompson, what is going to happen to you now?" Montgomery asked.

  "You two are going to cuff me, put a sack over my head and load me into another vehicle. One of you will inject me with a sedative, and you'll drop me off at a remote airfield where a plane will move me to Washington, D.C., for more interrogation," Zeke said calmly.

  "There's a freaking mole inside telling this guy everything!" Carter screamed

  "What is the name of the person inside the government giving you this information, Mr. Thompson?" Montgomery asked.

  "No one is giving me any information about anything, Agent Montgomery," Zeke replied.

  "Why should I believe you?"

  "Would you two like to know about your future?" Zeke asked.

  "Are you shitting me?" Carter fumed.

  "Go ahead, Mr. Thompson," Montgomery said.

  "As fair warning, your future will change depending on whether I tell you or not," Zeke said. The two men stared back in disbelief. "Should I continue?" They nodded. "Okay. After your experience with me, the agency will separate you two so you won't leak to the press what you’ve learned. Carter will be assigned to a covert operation in Pakistan. If he goes, he will die in the first two weeks in an IED blast. If he quits, he'll start a security business, get married, and have five children. Montgomery, they will permanently assign you here with almost nothing to do. After a few years you'll either join Carter in his new company, or if he decided to go to Pakistan, you'll start it yourself."

  Carter and Montgomery exchanged worried glances. After a long silence, Montgomery said, "Wow! Either you have a very active imagination or some serious connections in Washington, Moscow, or Beijing."

  Zeke forced a weak smile. "Guys, I'm a young kid just out of college and I live with my parents. Does that sound like the definition of a superspy to you?"

  "Come on, Bill, this guy is obviously making this shit up," Carter complained. "We have a job to do."

  Montgomery flashed a look of contempt at his partner and then focused on Zeke again. "Sam is right, Zeke. Stand up so I can handcuff you." Zeke stood and the other cuffed his wrists together behind his back. Carter walked forward and slid the bag over Zeke's head and cinched it around his neck. "Okay, Zeke, now we're going to walk you out of here. Don't try anything stupid, okay?"

  "Don't worry, Agent Montgomery," Zeke replied.

  Carter grabbed Zeke's right arm while Montgomery held the left. "Bill, I have the feeling you are starting to have compassion for this traitor."

  "Sam, do you always have to be such an asshole?" Montgomery asked. The other man laughed as they walked out of the cell with their prisoner. "If what Thompson says is true, I wonder what you'll think when you get the orders to Pakistan?"

  "This man can't tell the future," Carter scoffed. "If asked to serve in Pakistan, I'm happy to go."

  "Really?" Montgomery quipped. "If there is a chance you'll be dead in a couple of weeks, you'd still go."

  "Shut up, Bill. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it."

  §

  The president of the United States lay quietly in the hospital bed while a number of machines monitored his condition. Doctor Hampton stood at the end of the bed reviewing his patient's status chart on a tablet. Nurses were on both sides of the bed checking the president's wound dressings. On the opposite side of the room, the vice president and secretary of defense sat waiting on a couch. It was early afternoon in the nation's capital and the view out the windows showed an overcast sky. Lake leaned over to Albright and whispered, "Is Thompson on his way?"

  "Yes, Andy. I received word an hour ago that his flight is now airborne," Albright whispered back.

  "Frank, I want to meet him."

  "I'm not sure that's wise, sir."

  "Why not?"

  "Plausible deniability for one thin
g," Albright replied. "Until a linkage can be found between Thompson and foreign agents, he is toxic to us. Imagine if the press found out we detained and beat the crap out of a lawful citizen because he had a hunch?"

  "Figure out a way, Frank," Lake said. "You know as well as I do that our country has many enemies, all of whom would love to take down Air Force One. It's just a matter of time before Thompson cracks."

  "I hope you're right, Andy," Albright noted. His mind was still reeling from the crash. He knew he ignored the CIA director's report that there might be structural damage to the plane, but who in their right mind believes in fortune-tellers? Yet, there had been the tiniest mote of a doubt in his mind, and since the crash it had begun to grow. If Thompson was truly clairvoyant and the fact he ignored the warning was leaked, his career and future were over. Now he had no choice but to see this through to the end, and somehow make sure Thompson did not live to tell his side of the story. Frank Albright needed time to think.

  "Excuse me, gentlemen," the doctor said. The nurses had left the room and Hampton was standing three feet in front of them. Lake and Albright stood up.

  "How is he doing, doctor?" the vice president asked.

  "The president is recovering quite well," Hampton said. "I am very pleased with his progress."

  "When do you think he will be ready to resume his duties?" Albright asked. He noticed the odd look Lake gave him after the question.

  "It's much too early to make any guesses about that," Hampton replied. "He has sustained major injuries to several organs and bones and needs time to heal. It is possible we may end the induced coma soon, though."

  "Is that wise?" the vice president asked. Both Albright and Hampton looked shocked at the question. "Please let me rephrase that. All of us and the American people want Ben to recover as quickly as possible. If he is better able to heal while in the coma, wouldn't it benefit all of us to leave him in the coma until he is stronger?"