by Tim LaHaye
Abigail had to think for a moment. Then she answered with a smile. "I don't know. Just occurred to me, that's all."
Then after a beat she added another thought. "Astrologers say our lives are wrapped up in the stars. Which I think is a bunch of malarkey. But I do think that God set the stars in the sky for a reason. Don't you?"
"And that reason would be...?"
She took a second before she answered. "Well, the Bible says the heavens declare the glory of God..."
"Sounds reasonable."
"So, then you agree with the Bible?"
"No, I'm not saying that. Not exactly."
"Then what?" she asked, probing a little further.
"Just that when you say it, it always sounds reasonable. And I know better than to debate with a lawyer!"
She had to chuckle at his dodge. Then she continued. "Anyway, you'd be surprised at the number of grown people I run into who still read their horoscopes every day. Darley said she does."
"How are things with her?"
"She's having a harder time than I thought."
Abigail was struggling over how much to tell her husband, but she needed to share this with her soul mate. "Something came up today when we had lunch."
"From Darley?"
"Yeah. Some personal stuff."
"Like what?"
"She's still grieving over Jimmy."
"I think about Fort and Darley losing their son like that. Bam, out of nowhere. Just when Jimmy was beginning his life as a man. I don't think a parent ever gets over something like that."
Then Joshua screwed the cap back onto his water bottle and prodded a little. "You said it was related..."
Abigail decided just to lay it all out. Her husband needed to hear it. Not only because Darley and Fort were friends, but because Joshua and Fort worked so closely together with the Roundtable.
"Darley really struggled with guilt after Jimmy's death. She couldn't let go of the idea that there was something she should have done to protect him. Her doctor prescribed an anti-anxiety medication because she was having such a hard time sleeping. First it was just one pill; then that wasn't enough and she would take another. Then she decided she needed more. So she went doctor shopping. To three separate doctors. Now she's constantly dosing on valium. This has been going on since her son's death. Josh, she came right out and admitted she's addicted to prescription drugs. She says she can't get through the day without taking something."
"Oh, boy. Poor Darley. Does Fort know?"
"Not exactly. Although it may be what the law calls deliberate indifference."
"You make it sound like he doesn't care."
"No, just the opposite. Maybe he cares too much."
"I don't follow..."
"I think people who deeply love another person are naturally going to think the best of them, not the worst. Fort may be seeing a lot of clues but unconsciously turning a blind eye. He really doesn't want to picture his wife as an addict. Who would?"
"So, what did you tell her?"
"I offered to help. Get her into a rehab place maybe. And I told her to tell her husband. He has a right to know, and she needs his support."
Joshua looked intently at his wife. He took her hands, both of them, and kissed them. "Thank goodness she's got you for a friend. You're outstanding, Abby. Really."
She leaned over and put a long, lingering kiss on his lips. "And you're an incredible man."
Then Joshua added, "If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."
"Thanks, Josh."
Then she brightened up and focused on her husband's project. "So, you finish up the Roundtable tomorrow?"
"Yep. We're going to focus on our media project. This is really going to be big. We're pulling out all the stops. Abby, this country will be shaken to its core."
"I'll be praying for your new venture. This is the AmeriNews project, right?"
"Exactly."
"So, after you wrap up tomorrow, then maybe you and I and Deborah can do some trail riding the next day?"
"Right...uh, oh..."
"Uh, oh what, dear?" Abigail was already translating the unspoken part of her husband's reply.
"I just remembered I am supposed to shoot eighteen holes with Rocky Bridger."
"Well, you could get up early, be the first to tee off, and still be back here in time for at least a half-day of riding with us. Right?"
He smirked. "Yeah. That's doable. I can take orders. I was a good Air Force officer. Flight plan modified by cencom."
"You are sooo overly dramatic." She grinned with a twinkle in her eye.
Then there were a few moments of stillness, where the only thing that could be heard was the faraway rushing of the river down in the valley. Abigail was the first to break the silence.
"So, any plans in the evening while we're staying here?"
"Nothing, except enjoying the lack of plans. One of these nights I need to review some acquisition and investment data. See how we're doing."
Then he caught on.
"You've got something in mind, don't you?"
"Actually, I do."
"What is it?"
"When we get back to New York, Pastor Paul Campbell is doing a special series of evening talks over at Eternity Church."
Joshua's face didn't flinch, but Abigail could hear the gears moving in his head.
"I know what you're thinking," she said.
Joshua laughed. "You sure?"
"When you have that look on your face, yeah. You're thinking, 'Wife, this is the two hundredth time you've invited me to church. And I've gone with you a couple times. Just two months ago. But I will have so much that I need to follow up on after the Roundtable when we get back to New York.'"
"Pretty close."
"But this is different. I think this series of messages are more for you than for me. The topic is right up your alley. Really."
"Well-played, madam lawyer. So I'm the one who'll regret it if I don't go..."
"Absolutely. And if you do go, I think you'll be surprised. Actually, I think it fits into what you are doing with the Roundtable..."
She had his attention.
"You've got my curiosity aroused. At least tell me what this is all about."
"Better than that, I'll let you read the brochure I got from Paul. It tells all about it."
"Okay, I'll read it. But no promises..."
TWENTY-EIGHT
Moscow
Hamad Katchi threaded his way down a back alley littered with broken bottles and scraps of trash. It was right around midnight. For most people, in that particular neighborhood and at that particular time of night, it would be a hair-raising experience.
But not for Katchi. He wasn't afraid of the Russian mobsters who controlled that part of town. Many of them had done business with Katchi in the illegal arms trade. And for those who hadn't, they had certainly heard of him.
Over the years, Katchi had risen to the level of an international celebrity in the underworld. Who would have thought a "conversion" to global peace would give him the ability to continue to secretly negotiate with national leaders behind the cloak of legitimacy. This was a man no one wanted to cross.
The Pakistani weapons master turned a corner and walked another fifty feet toward a rustic shop with the word on the sign out front: "espresso cafe." The storefront was dark, and a sign hanging in the window said "Closed." Katchi knew he was at the right place.
Cautiously he looked up and down the street, assuring himself that it was empty; then he opened the door and walked in. The cafe was empty, the chairs had been stacked up for the day, and the lights in the main dining area were out. But a soft light from the back room cast a glow through the darkened shop. Katchi walked into a small office and closed the door.
A burley man in a sloppy-looking suit and smoking a Cuban cigar sat in the corner next to a small wooden table. He slowly tapped the end of his cigar with his ring finger, causing ashes to carelessly fall to the ground, all the while e
yeing Katchi as he entered the room.
"Good to see you again, Vlad," Katchi began.
The other man, Vlad Levko, was a former KGB agent and now an aging member of the Russian Federation's newest spy agency, the FSB. He smiled and motioned toward a bottle of vodka flanked by two shot glasses. Katchi shook his head no. Levko helped himself anyway, filled up a shot, and then tossed it down.
Levko didn't waste time on preliminaries. "What are we going to do, you and I, about our deal?"
"I was hopeful that we could negotiate a price," Katchi responded.
"And I assume you have authority to speak on behalf of Mr. Demas?"
"I didn't come all the way to Moscow for your vodka."
"Okay, but there is a slight adjustment since we talked last."
Katchi was prepared for some last-minute treachery from the Russians. What he was not prepared for was a deal breaker.
Levko took another draw on his cigar before proceeding. "We want the exclusive rights to the RTS. We don't want the system being sold to our competitors."
"That's not an adjustment, Levko--that's a complete overhaul. You should have informed me before I wasted a trip."
"And you should have anticipated that we would want to be the sole proprietors of this technology. Any advantage the RTS system would bring us diminishes the moment the technology is shared with any other government."
Katchi wasn't surprised, not really. As a result of the breakup of the Soviet empire decades ago, Russia's military domination had weakened. So in recent years the Russians were making a mad dash to rebuild to superpower status but still had a long way to go. They were being threatened from all sides, and if they were to have any hope of being able to fund their military build-up, they needed to protect their most prized possession--the vast oil fields that were their major source of revenue.
Katchi replied, "What you are asking is going to be a very hard sell to Demas."
"We are, of course, prepared to compensate you for exclusivity. You are, however, going to have to guarantee that you will be able to deliver all the necessary information regarding the details of the RTS laserreversal protocol to make it worth our while."
Hamad Katchi casually responded without blinking an eye. "That won't be a problem."
"And we don't want to wait until next year for delivery. You can understand that."
"We expect to be in possession of the RTS any day now."
"One more thing. We cannot under any circumstance be traced back to your efforts to obtain the RTS design. Are we clear about that? We are not looking for a world war with the United States. At least not yet. Can you guarantee that you will keep us out of the spotlight?"
"That won't be a problem. In the meantime, I suggest you increase the U.S. allotment of oil above what you are currently offering, to make it look like you're helping to prop them up economically. You will continue to appear like a friend, and the U.S. does not become suspicious."
Levko was interested now in hearing the rest of the story. He poured himself another shot, tossed it back, and motioned for Katchi to proceed.
Katchi continued eagerly, "We have someone getting the RTS for us who is world-class. The best there is. Maybe the best there ever was. I am certain he will keep all of us out of the spotlight."
But then Katchi caught himself. Had he said too much? He did not want the Russian spy-masters to know whom they had hired for this project. The Russians had long memories. Atta Zimler's execution of three of their top agents had left a festering sore.
"This man you are using, is it anybody I would know?" Levko asked nonchalantly.
"A gentleman from South America. Well, maybe gentleman isn't the right word. He's been operating under radar for many years. He's excellent for this sort of thing."
After Katchi's lie, he studied Levko to see if he bought it. Vlad was simply smiling back at him and pouring himself yet another shot.
Katchi concluded as he rose to leave, "You are never going to reach retirement, my friend, if you keep up your drinking..."
"In our business, retirement is never guaranteed. Isn't that right, Hamad?"
Just before exiting the cafe's back room, Katchi added almost offhandedly, "For exclusive possession of the RTS design, you will have to pay double."
Levko didn't flinch. Russia's oil reserves were at an all-time high. And the Federation had successfully taken control of all private oil production. Another billion dollars was no big deal.
"Be safe, my friend," Vlad Levko muttered to Katchi as he made his way through the dim cafe and out onto the street. "The world can be a dangerous place."
TWENTY-NINE
Telling the truth had become a risky business.
For years, America's digital-based news belonged to the white-knuckled grip of a handful of corporate moguls, and they were not going to let go easily. Everyone in the Roundtable knew that. All the more reason, they figured, for their revolution to be launched immediately.
On the last day of the Roundtable, the pace picked up considerably. The big coffeepot in the window-lined conference room had already been filled up once, and now it had been drained down to empty again. The group was trying to fine-tune the AmeriNews project, but as much as they thought the concept was turnkey ready, more and more final details kept arising. Phil Rankowitz had spent the better part of the day going back and forth on the phone with the lawyers, ironing out last contract terms with the World Teleco, the huge telecommunications company whose satellite would carry the news service.
Funding the whole thing was not the biggest problem. Phil had been working with Beverly Rose Cortez to secure the financing. In addition to outside investors, several of the Roundtable members had either personally committed capital to the venture or backed loans from institutions with their own guarantees. The project would be structured through a shell corporation called Mountain News Enterprise, MNE Inc., which had already been set up for that purpose.
The challenge was to avoid tipping off the telecom company that this news network would be radically different. After all, World Teleco was a Corland administration supporter and was in tight with the existing news services. By contrast, AmeriNews would be a new breed of reporting, one that was willing to stand toe-to-toe with the existing news giants and would challenge the current political status quo. AmeriNews would cover hard-hitting issues that the mainstream Internet-driven TV and radio networks refused to cover. And it would be delivered right to the Allfone cell phones used by half of America's citizens. If all went well, within ten months the plan would expand and provide AmeriNews to nearly every American with a cell phone.
But Senator Leander was still hammering the group. He had serious doubts whether the news delivery concept was sound, and he also wondered if a successful deal could really be struck with the telecom company at all. So Rankowitz had to run through the basics again.
"The idea isn't complicated," Rankowitz explained to the group. "We cover the national news with no holds barred. I've got unemployed news directors and reporters laid off their jobs from failed print newspapers and magazines lined up to do the investigative reporting and to write national news copy. At the same time, local newspapers in key geographical areas are given free space for their local news. When someone with an Allfone equipped with our AmeriNews service comes within fifty miles of a city or county covered by a local digital newspaper that has signed up with us, then bang, that local news automatically shows up on their Allfone. Along with local advertisers. We do that through existing social-location systems that are already embedded in every Allfone. No hardware adjustments necessary. Each cell phone has an integrated GPS sensor and an electronic compass so it can figure out where it is. Now we just use that data to connect an Allfone user to the closest member of our local newspaper alliance. But remember that the biggest advantage of all of this is that every Allfone user ultimately gets not just the local news where they are at that moment, but our own coverage of national issues right at their fingertips. Readershi
p via Allfone gives us entree to the whole country from the ground up. We break through the media monopoly of silence on our issues. For the first time in years, the American people will start getting the real facts."
But Leander was still worried about leaks. "What if the Allfone telecom company, World Teleco, suddenly gets cold feet? Finds out that your news is going to challenge the big mainstream media that they already have as customers? That you're planning to bust up the news monopoly? I'm old enough to remember how the Fox network shook up the media establishment for a while and how the folks in the Senate with me had to be looking over their shoulders. It was healthy. Back when controversial radio talk-show hosts could actually challenge the White House. Then, finally, even the other news networks seemed to be getting off the dime too, started getting a little more edgy, more honest, more independent. But all that's over now. Phil, we're about to poke these almighty telecoms right in the eye."
Rankowitz wasn't fazed. "I'm okay with that, aren't you? Besides, we also want to give the news organizations in this country a black eye. They've sold out to the telecoms who control their access to the Internet. But now we're about to break the logjam."
Leander kept after the media chairman. "You're not hearing me. What if World Teleco gets wise on this? That they are about to invite a Trojan Horse into their wireless system. Maybe they'll pull out before signing the contract."
Judge Rice raised a finger. All the eyes went to him. "I've looked over Phil's contract structure," Rice said. "I don't think there is any way that World Teleco is going to know that this group or any of you people are involved. They'll think this is just one more news service. Phil very smartly has hired former general-market newspeople to be the front men in the contracts. What World Teleco doesn't know is that these people are media folks who quietly believe the way we do. Folks, I think we're okay."
Joshua had been pensive. Now he decided to put a capstone on the discussion. "People, this gets down to trust. Several of you are backing this with your own money and your own credit. But everybody here agrees on one thing: until we get the truth to the American people, this country will continue to unravel."
