THE 13: STAND BOOK TWO

by ROBBIE CHEUVRONT

  Irving set his jaw. “And you want me to get the Joint Chiefs on your side.”

  “We’ve already got Matthews, Smith, and Campbell,” Pemberton jumped in. “The problem is we need Sykes.”

  “And you think because I’m the former secretary of the navy, I can get my successor to side with you.”

  “Right now, he and he alone is in control of our military,” Pemberton said. “This thing is going to go sideways quick. Walker isn’t much of a president. But if push comes to shove, he will instruct Sykes to use any means necessary to squash any kind of uprising from within.”

  Irving pursed his lips. “And if Sykes is on your side…”

  “Our side,” Hayes corrected. “You know this is the right thing to do, Jake.”

  “You can’t just remove a sitting president, Milton,” Irving said condescendingly. “We don’t do that in this country!”

  “This country isn’t this country, anymore!” Pemberton slammed his fist down on the little table. “It stopped being this country the day Walker went on TV and made that speech. Something’s got to be done!”

  Irving pushed back from the table and stood up. Pemberton was afraid they were losing him. “Jake, we need—”

  Irving put his hand out to stop him. “Just—hold on. I need to think.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and started walking around the room.

  Hayes looked nervously to Pemberton. If Irving said no, they weren’t done, but it wouldn’t be easy. Pemberton gave him a reassuring nod. Finally, Irving stopped and leaned forward, placing his hands on the table in front of them.

  “You’re going to need someone the people love to replace him.”

  Pemberton could see the grin on Hayes’s face out of the corner of his eye. Irving was in!

  “We already have him,” Pemberton said.

  “Who?” Irving asked.

  Pemberton reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a cigar. He bit the tip off and lit it. He took a long, slow pull and then blew the smoke out in short wisps. “Your son-in-law.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Washington, DC

  Megan saw Boz and Eli round the corner to Jennings’s office as she was kicking the vending machine in the hall. It was the third time this week it had stolen her money and refused to give up its goods. She gave it one final, hard, front kick and watched the teetering power bar slip out of the metal spiral and fall to the bottom of the machine. She retrieved her prize and hurried down the hall to meet her friends.

  “Did you kill it?” Eli asked as she took a seat next to him.

  “I’m going to shoot the glass next time and just reach in and take one. That stupid thing owes me like a month’s worth of stuff.” She ripped the top of the wrapper off and took a big bite.

  “If you two are done,” Jennings said dryly.

  Everyone sat up straight and gave the CIA director their attention.

  “This morning I got a call from the Prophet. He has Jon.” Jennings held up his hands to stop Boz and Eli from the same barrage of questions Megan had already hit him with. “Let me finish and then you can ask questions.”

  Boz and Eli nodded and Jennings continued, uninterrupted. When he was finished, he leaned back against his desk and shrugged his shoulders.

  “That’s it. Now you know what I know.”

  “So we’re supposed to do…what?” Boz asked.

  “I’ve put a few calls out this morning, trying to see if anyone has heard anything.”

  “And?” It was Boz.

  “And it seems that there are some people who aren’t exactly happy with how President Walker is handling our situation right now.”

  “There’s a lot of people not happy with that,” Boz said.

  “Yes, but apparently whoever this is, is willing to do something about it.”

  “What does that mean?” Eli asked.

  “I don’t know yet,” Jennings said. “I only started digging a couple hours ago. After Quinn called. But I can tell you this. It’s not coming from Washington. I got a guy—Peterson—lives down in Newport News. He’s a former Company guy. Says he heard some things coming out of Raleigh.”

  “What kind of things?” Megan jumped in.

  “Don’t know yet. Says he’s going to get back to me in a little while. But I can tell you this. Peterson may be retired, but he never left.” Then to Boz and Eli, “Know what I mean?”

  Megan looked on, agitated, as Boz and Eli both nodded. “No. I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “Please, fill me in.”

  Boz shifted in his seat to face her. “Megan, the FBI and CIA are a lot alike in many aspects of their operations. But there is one difference. When an FBI agent retires, or leaves, he usually just…leaves. Puts it behind him. I mean, I know guys who still hang on to that fed mentality, but most of the time, they let the job go. A CIA guy never stops being a spy.”

  This time Jennings and Eli nodded.

  “And more often than not,” Boz continued, “it gets him into trouble.”

  “Or killed,” Eli added.

  “Well, lucky for us,” Jennings said, pushing off his desk, “Peterson hasn’t gotten himself killed. But that could change if he starts asking questions down there and someone doesn’t like it.”

  “Well, you said you guys don’t ever stop being spies,” Megan said. “What’s the big deal?”

  “Peterson’s seventy-six years old.” Jennings said. A worried look creased his brow. “And he’s a good man. I don’t want to see anything happen to him. He’s served this country well.” He walked back around to his side of the desk and sat down and pointed at Megan. “And that’s why you are leaving in the next five minutes to go see him.”

  “So that’s it?” She stood up. “We’re just going to put all of our eggs in Peterson’s basket? You said you made calls. Plural. We’re not going to wait to see what else comes back?”

  Jennings leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “Megan, I made three calls. Two of the guys I called, I woke up. They said they’d poke around, but hadn’t heard anything. When I called Peterson, he was on his way out the door. To Raleigh. Said he was just about to call me.” He twirled his finger in the air, noting his disbelief.

  “And that means he’d already heard something.” She nodded.

  “Like I said. Retired. Not gone.”

  “What about them?” She pointed to Boz and Eli.

  Jennings turned his attention to Eli. “You staying or going?”

  Eli curled his lip. “Well, I was sort of looking forward to going back and getting into it with Bungard, but…” He waved a hand in the air. “I really like Uncle Boz’s chef hat. I just don’t think I’m ready to part with it so soon.”

  “Good. Then you’re with her.” Then to Boz, “And you’re going to go get Jon.”

  Megan immediately felt her heart sink. She had wanted to be the one to go get Jon. Her feelings for him had grown more each day he had been gone. She laughed to herself. She remembered when they had met how she could hardly stand him. And now she was jealous that Jennings was sending Boz to get him.

  She had to admit, though, it was the right move. Boz was a former operative. She was an FBI agent. A computer specialist, at that. She knew she didn’t have the skills to operate in a theater like the one Jon was in. If anyone was going to get him, Boz was the right guy. Raleigh was still American soil. And that meant it was her territory. She narrowed her eyes and looked at her new partner. “I appreciate everything you’ve done, Eli. And I’m glad to have you along. But…”

  “Hey, I’m just along for the ride.” He held up his palms.

  Megan nodded.

  “Unless someone starts something,” he finally said. “And then I’m going to finish it.”

  Megan shook her head and grabbed the door. “Do they just upload you guys with the same generic program at spy school?”

  Eli stood to follow and smiled at Boz and Jennings. “No, milady. I’m afraid we’re uploaded with that from birth!”


  “Just let me do the talking when we see Peterson,” she said.

  CHAPTER 9

  Marrakech, Morocco

  Farid Naser was hyperventilating. He sat down on the couch that was provided in the private lounge area and placed his head between his knees.

  Breathe, you idiot! In from the nose…out through the mouth. Just breathe.

  It hadn’t really hit him what he’d done until they’d stepped off the plane a few minutes ago and he’d set foot on Moroccan soil. He’d left. All of it. Just threw his lab coat in the trash on the way out the door and got on a plane to Africa. A private plane. Completely bypassing customs. With a complete stranger. Who does that?

  But she wasn’t a stranger. At least not in his mind. He’d spent weeks by her side. Watching her. Listening to her breathe. Imagining who she was. Where she came from. What her story was… Imagining a life with her. And then she woke up.

  Still—it all happened so fast—he was here. In Morocco. She hadn’t explained much yet. She was even more secretive about how she got the plane to get out of there in the first place. She hadn’t said more than a few sentences on the flight. She was tired, she explained. Everything was still groggy, she had said. She slept. For almost the entire flight.

  Now, here he was. Sitting in the Salon Convives de Marque lounge. Alone.

  “Stay here,” she had said. “The lounge has anything you need. I’ll be gone less than an hour. When I get back, we’ll need to leave again.”

  “Where to? And where are you going?”

  “You’ll see. And I can’t tell you. But I will.”

  “You’ll see!” he muttered to himself again, now sitting here trying to catch his breath.

  He checked his watch. She’d been gone for only fifteen minutes now. He lifted his head and looked around. A small bar sat to one side of the room and some food trays at the other. He decided he could use a sandwich. And a drink. He moved across the room and fixed himself both.

  He sat back down on the couch and had been eating for only a few minutes when the door to the lounge opened. He checked his watch again. Thirty minutes had passed. But she was back. She smiled and came to him.

  “Okay. We’re ready. Let’s go.”

  “I thought you said an hour. Where to? What’s going on?”

  “I said less than an hour. And I told you. You’ll see.”

  He sat there. Still.

  She reached for his hand. “Farid, we need to go. I’ll explain on the way.”

  He wiped his mouth with the napkin and took her hand, leaving the sandwich. He picked up the glass of bourbon and drank it down in two long gulps. But when she pulled at his arm for him to stand, he pulled his hand back.

  “Alex, listen.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I just completely walked away from my life. Why, I don’t know. Other than, I just want to be with you. But I can’t just follow you around like a puppy, not knowing anything about what’s going on or where we’re going.”

  He stood up and grabbed her by her arm. “I’m not stupid. Nor am I naive. I don’t pretend to think that you’re someone who happened into my hospital by virtue of some weird accident. I’ve imagined a thousand times the reason you ended up on my floor. And though I may not know the answer, I know it involves something that could get you into a lot of trouble. And now probably me, too. But I’m here. I’m here because…” He let go of her and held his arms out to his side.

  “Farid—”

  “No, listen. I’m here because I want to be. Because you’re here. And I knew you couldn’t stay in Dubai. And I didn’t want to never see you again.”

  “Farid—”

  “Please, let me finish.” He took her hand again. “You don’t have to tell me everything right now. But I do need you to tell me.”

  She blew out a long sigh. “I will. I’ll tell you everything. As soon as we get on the plane.”

  “Okay.” That was going to have to be good enough for now, he conceded. But she was going to have to answer at least one thing. “Where are we going?”

  “We’re going to Boston.”

  CHAPTER 10

  Washington, DC

  Boz let Eli and Megan leave Jennings’s office and waited a few more seconds until he spoke. “What aren’t you telling me, Kevin?”

  Jennings looked at him straight faced. “You know everything I know.”

  “But…”

  “No but. I’m just worried.”

  “About Jon?”

  “About the whole thing, Boz. We’ve been sitting around here for weeks on our heels. The Chinese have stopped taking potshots at us. The country—what’s left of it—is starting to get back to some semblance of normalcy—if you can call it that. And Walker is actually doing a decent job of managing this crisis.”

  “And then Quinn makes contact and says it’s all about to fire back up again.”

  “Exactly! It’s no secret that there are those around here who aren’t happy with the fact that we’re not advancing back on the Chinese. It was only a matter of time before something like this would come up.”

  “Kevin, you and I both know this is what we’re supposed to be doing. If God wanted us to take back our country right now, He would have made that perfectly clear. Instead, He has chosen to humble us. We need to be happy that He has spared us at all.”

  “I agree. But that doesn’t stop the fact that we’re now looking for another Marianne Levy.”

  “Listen, if someone really is organizing something, he’s not going to be able to keep it quiet. News like that is going to travel fast and gain support. Let’s just wait to hear back from Megan and Eli. Then we’ll figure it out.”

  Jennings got up, walked around his desk, and closed the door. Boz could see there was something else Jennings wanted to tell him. But the man was holding back for some reason.

  “What is it?”

  “Boz, are you sure? About what you said? About God making it perfectly clear?”

  “What? That we are supposed to just move on from here, and not advance back on the Chinese?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why? C’mon, Jennings. What aren’t you telling me?”

  Jennings sat down in the chair next to Boz. “Listen, can I talk to you in like a…pastor-type…or whatever it’s called—”

  “You mean, like pastoral counseling?”

  “Yeah. That.”

  “I would be honored.”

  “Boz, I’ve been going to church off and on my whole life. I mean, I guess I always believed, but…you know…I—”

  “You never really walked the walk.”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Okay. Well, let me ask you a question. Where’s your heart? I mean now.”

  “I think it’s where it’s supposed to be. I mean, I want to do whatever God wants from me. I never really cared about that before. But recently, I’ve found myself questioning every decision I make. Asking myself, Is that really what God wants?”

  Boz laughed out loud and shook his head. “Kevin, you’re fine.” He stood up and reached for the door. “You holler at me when Quinn calls back and tells us where Jon is. We need to get our boy back.”

  “President Grant woke up this morning.”

  Boz stopped cold. He took his hand off the handle and came back to his chair. “Calvin is awake?”

  Jennings stared straight ahead, like he was a million miles away. Finally, he folded his hands in his lap and nodded. “Sit back down, Boz.”

  Boz’s heart sank. He and President Grant had been close friends for years. Like brothers. Boz had even baptized Grant’s children. When the Russian woman had shot Calvin before the invasion, Boz thought he’d lost his friend. But Calvin was strong. He’d managed to survive, albeit in a coma. The doctors had said they had no idea whether he would ever wake up. Or if he did, whether or not there would be any residual effects or permanent damage. Boz sat back down and prepared himself for the worst. “How is he?”

  “They don’t kn
ow yet. He only woke up for a few minutes.”

  “What about the coma?”

  “They say he’s responsive. But they’re keeping him sedated until they can run tests. They want him out of the coma, but need him unconscious to do their evaluation for brain damage and any lasting effects.”

  “When will they know?”

  “They haven’t said. But the initial conversation with him leads them to believe that Calvin seemed to have full control over his thoughts. I mean he was confused about what had happened. But he remembered everything once they told him. He seemed to be fully functional. I mean brainwise.”

  Boz let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “That’s incredible! That’s great news.”

  “Yes, it is. But it brings up another problem.”

  “What are you talking about? What problem?”

  “Boz, technically, Calvin is still the president of the United States. If he wakes up and is fully capable of continuing in his office, what are we going to tell Walker?”

  Boz stood up from his chair. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” He moved past Jennings again and grabbed the door.

  Jennings nodded. “Right. You’ve got a bag to pack. And if I had to guess, you haven’t had to pack that bag for a long time. You better go get it ready.”

  Boz knew exactly what Jennings was talking about. He was about to go dark. He was going to cross over into Chinese territory and bring back one of their own. And that meant that the only resources he would have would be the ones he could carry with him.

  “You call me, Jennings. The moment you hear anything. And I mean about Jon or Calvin.”

  He pulled the door closed behind him and headed for home. Not a single morning, afternoon, or evening had passed since Calvin had been shot that Boz hadn’t spent time on his knees, praying for God to heal his friend. As he walked down the hall, a single tear slid down his cheek. He lifted his head to the sky.

  “Thank You, Lord.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Chinese Territory

  Mr. Keene, wake up….Mr. Keene…It’s me, Quinn….Jon! ”