by Ted Dekker
“He is busy,” the guard said.
“Did you see the tape of the man who fought your two gate guards the other day?”
The guard paused. “You’re threatening me?”
“No. I was wondering if you saw it. But yes, I am that man. Please, I really need to speak to him.”
The man looked Thomas over. “One moment.” He poked his head in the door, asked a question, then pushed the door open.
Thomas walked in. Jacques de Raison looked up from his desk, haggard and distracted.
“Any progress?” Thomas asked.
“I told you a week! Seventy-two hours? There’s a much simpler solution to this. If I give them what they want, they will give me Monique. We will deal with them later, through the world courts.”
“Unless I’m right,” Thomas said. “Unless by giving them everything you have, you severely hamper any attempt to produce an antidote to the Raison Strain.”
Raison slammed his fist on the desk. “There is no Raison Virus!”
“Monique will tell you differently when we find her. By then it will be too late.”
“Then I’ll give them what they want and keep what I need to reproduce the vaccine.”
“If you give them what they want, it’ll slow you down. The Raison Virus will do its work in three weeks.”
They faced off. Thomas felt oddly resigned. There were only two things he could do now: Find Monique, who alone might be able to find a way out of the mess her vaccine would make, and prepare the world for the Raison Strain. Somehow he had to do both.
“Mr. Raison, I want you to consider something. I don’t think they have any intention of releasing Monique anytime soon, even if you do meet their demands. She’s too valuable to them. Alive. If I’m right—”
“If I’m right, if I’m right—how many times are you asking me to assume that you’re right?”
“As many as it takes. If I’m right, the only way to get Monique back to safety is to go after her.” Thomas sat in one of the leather chairs facing the man. “For that we need help. And there’s one way to get help.”
“I have money, Mr. Hunter. If it’s muscle we need—”
“No, we need more than a little muscle here. We need eyes and ears everywhere. And we need to be able to move quickly. For that we need governments. If I’m right—yes, I know, there I go again—the lid is going to blow off this whole thing in the next few days. I suggest we ease the pressure now and bring in some partners.”
He said it almost exactly the way he and Kara had rehearsed it. Actually, given a little space and the right training, he might make a pretty decent diplomat. Something he should take up with Tanis.
“What do you want me to do, inform the world that my vaccine is actually a deadly virus? It will kill the company. I would be better off to meet their demands.”
“I’m not suggesting you tell the world any such thing. Not yet.” Thomas made the decision then, looking at the haggard man in front of him. “I’m suggesting you let me speak to a few key players confidentially.”
“You want me to put my company’s future in your hands?”
“Your company’s future is already in my hands. If I’m right, there won’t be a company in the future. If I’m wrong, my claims will be written off as the ravings of a maniac, and your company will be just fine. Which is why I, not you, need to make selective contact with a few leaders. A call from you, admitting that your vaccine might be quite deadly, would require them to take certain actions. Raison Pharmaceutical would be dead and buried by morning. I, on the other hand, have more latitude. I don’t officially represent Raison Pharmaceutical.”
The man was mulling over Thomas’s idea. “I’m not sure what you’re asking.”
“I’m asking that you let me—assist me to—make contact with the outside world. My hands are tied without you. I’m in captivity here. Let me spill the beans about the danger the Raison Strain presents to the world. It will give them reason to throw some resources behind finding Monique. Nothing like a virus to motivate the right people.”
Thomas knew by the look in Jacques de Raison’s eyes that he was already warming to the idea. “I would have plausible deniability,” Raison said.
“Yes. I’ll make the calls without your official endorsement. That will insulate you even while making an appeal for help.”
It was a flawless idea. He should’ve gone into politics.
“You’re simply asking for the use of a phone? You can’t just place calls to world governments and expect them to be answered.”
“I want to use your personal contacts. Only those approved by you, of course. The U.S. State Department, the French government, the British. Maybe Indonesia—they have a large population nearby. The point is, we need to convince a few people with resources to take the kidnapping of your daughter as more than an industrial espionage case. We need them to consider the possibility of risk to their own national security and help us find Monique.”
“And you really think I would let you do that?”
“I don’t think you have a choice. This whole thing is about to hit the fan anyway. This gives us a chance. To warn the right people. To find Monique.”
Jacques de Raison went one step further than lending Thomas use of his contacts and a phone. He lent his secretary, Nancy.
“Tell him that if he doesn’t clear a line to the secretary in the next hour, I’m going to . . .” Thomas paused, considering. “Whatever. Tell him I’m going to set off a nuke or something. Don’t any of these people have the foresight to even consider that we could be in a bit of trouble here?”
Kara watched her brother pace. They’d been at it for five hours, and the results could hardly be worse. The French were not only hopeless but, in her thinking, downright rude. She’d expected much more cooperation from Raison’s home country. Evidently their current administration wasn’t excited about the fact that Raison Pharmaceutical had left France in the first place. They seemed interested enough in putting on a good face in this kidnapping mess, but when it came right down to getting a politician to break his schedule for a ten-minute phone call with Thomas, all interest evapo-rated. It was a legal matter, they said.
The British had been a little more congenial. But the bottom line was still roughly the same. The Germans, the Italians, even the Indonesian government— no one was in the mood to listen to the rantings of a crazed prophet who’d kidnapped the woman in Bangkok.
Kara walked toward her brother. The fact that it was three in the morning didn’t help matters much. He was practically sleepwalking. Then again, if he was right and this was the dream, he was sleepwalking.
“Thomas.” She rubbed his back. “You okay?”
He tried to smile. “Not really. I’ve gone from being terrified that there’s a comet coming to being horrified that no one believes there’s a comet coming.”
“What do you expect? There’s been a comet coming every year for two thousand years. It never lands. So now a twenty-five-year-old in jeans claims to live in his dreams, where he learns the world is about to end. He threatens to blow up the castle unless the king believes him. Why should the secretary of state break his meeting with the prince of Persia to take your call?”
“Thanks for the encouragement, sis.”
“Look, I know none of this matters if no one will listen, but there is another way, you know.”
He studied her face. They walked away from the desk. “You mean go back . . .”
“Well?” Kara said. “I know sleeping seems like the wrong thing here, but why not? For starters, if you don’t sleep soon, you’re going to fall into a coma anyway. And it’s worked before, right? What if you could find out where she is?”
He shook his head. “This is different. The other stuff was a matter of histories. This is too specific. And like I said, I don’t want to go back to the black forest, which is the only place I think I can get information.”
He said it with so much conviction. He really did live w
ith the constant awareness of his dreams. And he was changing.
The Thomas she knew as her brother had always been articulate, but he carried himself with a greater purpose now. He talked with more authority. Not enough to convince the French and the British, but enough to exchange a few rounds with some pretty powerful people before being sent packing, for his brazen approach to diplomacy as much as anything.
Her brother had somehow been chosen. She didn’t understand how or why, and, truthfully, she wasn’t ready to think it all through just yet. But she couldn’t escape the growing certainty that this man who worked in the Java Hut in Denver just a few days ago was becoming someone very, very important.
“Then don’t go back to the black forest. But there’s a connection between your dreams and what’s happening here, Thomas. Your dreams caused this, after all. There has to be a way to get more information. Go to sleep; nothing’s happening here anyway.”
He sighed. “You’re right, I’ve got to sleep.”
“You still can’t remember the antivirus.”
He shook his head. “No.”
“I wish there was a way you could take me.”
“Take you there? I’m not actually going anywhere, am I?”
“No. Your mind is though. Maybe there’s a way to take my mind with you.” She smiled. “Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah, crazy. I don’t think that’s possible.”
“Neither is breathing in a lake,” she said.
“Sir!”
Thomas spun. It was Raison’s secretary, holding up a phone.
“I have the deputy secretary of the United States. Merton Gains. He’s agreed to talk to you.”
Deputy Secretary Merton Gains sat at the end of the conference table, listening to the others express opinions on a dozen different ways to look at yet another looming budget crisis. Paul Stanley was still out of town, but the secretary of state had never shown a reluctance to throw Gains in the mix when he was unavailable.
Half the cabinet was present, most of the notable ones excluding defense, Myers. A dozen aides. President Robert Blair sat across and down the table from Gains, leaning back as his advisers begged to differ. The subject was tax cuts again. To cut or not to cut. How hard to push. The economic fallout or gain, the political fallout or gain. Some things never changed, and the argument over taxes was one of them.
Which was only part of the reason Gains found his mind wandering. The rest of the reason was Thomas Hunter.
Fact: If his daughter hadn’t died from a vaccine two years ago, he never would have spearheaded legislation to heighten scrutiny of new vaccines.
Fact: If he hadn’t written the bill, his friend Bob Macklroy never would have thought to call him about Thomas Hunter.
Fact: If Hunter hadn’t called Bob and told him about the winner to the Kentucky Derby, Joy Flyer, Gains wouldn’t have taken Hunter’s call.
Fact: Hunter’s prediction had been accurate.
Fact: Hunter had gone to the CDC and reported the potential outbreak. And he’d been pretty much stuffed.
Fact: Hunter had kidnapped Monique de Raison, the one person, he claimed, who could stop the virus by not shipping it in the first place.
Fact: Monique had been kidnapped again by someone else who now wanted the Raison Vaccine.
This was where the facts started fusing with Hunter’s claims.
Claim: The party that took Monique did so because they, like Thomas, knew the vaccine could be turned into a deadly weapon and hoped to get what they needed through coercion.
Claim: This party also could have access to an antidote within reach.
Claim: If the world didn’t get off its collective high horse, find Monique de Raison, and develop an antidote, very bad times that would make the budget crisis look like a game of dominoes were only days around the corner.
Hearing Thomas Hunter lay down the entire story, Gains couldn’t help but entertain the few chills that had swept through his bones. This wasn’t unlike the kinds of scenarios he’d pitched to the Senate more than once. And here it was, staring him in the face as a claim by a brazen man who was either totally deluded or who knew more than any man had any business knowing. There was something about Hunter’s sincerity that tempted him to listen to more. And so he had.
Much more.
He’d even promised any help he could in the matter of Monique de Raison. What if? Just what if? Obviously old man Raison hadn’t thrown Hunter out on his ear.
“. . . Merton?”
Gains cleared his throat. “No, I don’t think so.” He glanced up. The president was looking at him with that lazy I-can-read-your-mind look. It meant nothing, but it had won him the presidency.
“Just one thing,” Gains said. “I assume you all heard about the kidnapping in Bangkok yesterday. Monique de Raison, daughter of Jacques de Raison, founder of Raison Pharmaceutical.”
“Don’t tell me,” President Blair said. “It was one of our military boys.”
“No.”
“My understanding is that the man originally involved was blindsided by a third party who now holds the woman,” CIA Director Phil Grant said. “We’re shifting some assets to lend a hand. I wasn’t aware there was any new movement in the case.”
“There isn’t. But I’ve run across some information that I’ll get over to your office, Phil. It seems there’s a question about the stability of the Raison Vaccine, the real subject of this kidnapping. It’s an airborne multipurpose vaccine that was supposed to enter the market today. Let’s just say the incident in Bangkok has exposed the possibility, however slight, that the vaccine may not be stable.”
“I haven’t heard about this,” the health secretary said. “I had the understanding the FDA was ready to approve this vaccine next week.”
“No, this is new and, I might add, hearsay. Just a heads-up.”
The table remained quiet.
“I’m not sure I understand, Merton,” the president said. “I know you have a unique interest in vaccines, but how does this affect us?”
“This has nothing to do with the Gains Bill. It probably doesn’t affect us. But if there is any truth to Hunter’s claims and an unstable airborne vaccine does become a deadly virus, we could have a very significant health challenge on our hands. Just wanted to get the thought on the table.” Wrong time, wrong place. You don’t just stand up in a cabinet meeting, inform the leaders of the country that the sky might soon fall, and expect straight faces. Time for a bit of spin.
“Anyway, I’ll get the report to each of you. It could affect health and finance at the least. Possibly homeland security. If word of this leaks, the country could react badly. People get very nervous about viruses.”
There was a moment’s pause.
“Seems straightforward enough,” the president said. “Anyone else?”
25
THOMAS AWOKE to excited shouts outside the cottage. His confusion from the transition lasted only a moment. It was becoming customary. Every time he woke up, he had to make the switch, this time from a discussion with Deputy Secretary of State Merton Gains. They were making progress, real progress. He threw on his tunic and rushed from the house.
What greeted his eyes vanquished all thoughts of Bangkok and his success with Merton Gains.
There was a gigantic bright light suspended against the colored forest halfway up the sky. That the bright light hung in the sky wasn’t so surprising— suns were known to do that. That the forest was up there as well was a different matter.
He jerked his head up and stared at the sky. Only there was no sky. The green forest was above him!
The people streamed toward the center of the village, chattering excitedly, dancing in delight as though their world suddenly going topsy-turvy was a great thing.
Thomas turned, his mouth gaping, and gazed at the changed landscape. The forests rose from where they should have been and curved upward to where the sky had been. Far above him he could see meadows. And there, just to his right, at a
n elevation that must be over ten thousand feet, he was sure he saw a herd of horses galloping through a vertical meadow.
“It’s upside down!”
“Yes, it is.”
Thomas whirled to find Michal squatting next to him, smiling at their new world.
“What’s going on? What happened?”
“Do you like it?” the Roush asked with a childish smirk.
“I . . . I don’t know what it is.”
“Elyon is playing,” Michal said. “He does this often, actually.” Then he turned and leaped into the air after the others running for the Thrall. “Come. You will see.”
Thomas ran after Michal, almost tripping over a carving that someone had left in the yard. “You mean this is supposed to happen? Everything is safe?”
“Of course. Come. You will see.”
It was as if the entire landscape had been painted on the inside of a gigantic sphere. The effects of gravity had been somehow reversed. Directly ahead of them, the road leading to the lake curved upward to meet it, only now the lake was slanted upward and the waterfall thundered horizontally. The only thing missing was the black forest.
The scale of things also had changed dramatically, so that the sky, which should have been many hundreds of miles above them, seemed much closer. Conversely, the other villages, which should have been visible, were not. Thomas could see creatures running through the fields at impossible angles. Tens of thousands of birds dived about crazily. Half as many Roush swooped through the air as far as Thomas could see, twisting and turning and flying in giant loops that reminded Thomas of Gabil. It was nothing less than a circus.
They reached the Thrall and joined the others who, like Thomas, stared with wide eyes at the sight before them.
It was Johan who first discovered that the atmosphere had changed as well. Changed so much, in fact, that he could stay in the air longer than usual when he jumped. Thomas saw the young boy jumping, as if in slow motion.
“See, Thomas. See this?” Johan jumped again, harder this time.
He floated ten feet up and hung there.
