“What are you saying?” I asked him.
“Faith, hope and love. Is you missin’ something? You think you lost something. Maybe you lost the wrong thing.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Faith, hope and love. You gots to have um all. You lose even one, you gonna fall.”
As usual, he was looking around vaguely as though he was trying to spot something in the distance, but wasn’t sure where to look.
“What do you know about loss?” I asked him.
“More’n most. You see how I is.”
I did. Dustin was brain damaged from injuries he’d sustained in battle. Homeless, in a land of wealth. Alone, in a community of over a hundred thousand people. Yet, he held on to his faith, hope and love.
“You be thinkin’ you can’t stand to lose what you don’t even have. You don’t have, ‘cause you don’t ask. You don’t ask, ‘cause you missin’ something. Faith, hope and love. What you missin’?” He asked.
That was a good question. What was missing in my life? Which of the three? If one was missing, how did I change that?
I nodded.
“Yeah, I think I catch your drift.”
“That’s it then. All I know. I gots me my rounds. I gots to go.”
“Hold on a minute, Dustin. You said something was coming. What is it?”
Dustin grinned from ear to ear.
“Hee, hee, hee. Can’t say. Gots to go. If’n I told you, then you’d know.” He winked at me and started pushing his shopping cart across the parking lot. As he walked away, I think he was whistling “Stairway to Heaven.”
I was standing there in the parking lot, watching him walk away, when a car pulled up beside me.
“Are you Mr. Tucker?” The driver asked, through the open window.
“Yes, I’m John Wesley Tucker.”
He turned off the engine, grabbed some paperwork, and stepped out of the vehicle.
“OK, sir. This is your rental. If you’ll sign here, I’ll give you the keys.”
As I signed the paperwork, the rental agent told me I was good to go. A car was coming to pick him up once I took possession of the vehicle. As soon as the keys were in my hand, I jumped in and drove in search of Dustin. Evidently, he’d taken one of the paved trails into Rose Rudman Park. There was no convenient place to park at this entrance except the parking lot I’d just pulled out of, so I had to let him go.
As usual, for all his ramblings and the strange way he recounted his message, he made more sense than all the talking heads on television. I smiled to myself. To think he called me “Good Angel.”
50
The massacre at the shopping mall in Tyler was still the top story on all the news channels. There was much discussion about the armed citizens who returned fire in the shooting melee. Was it a good thing or a bad thing? In other news, a brief story on the local channel began with an announcement from The Texas Rangers. They were holding a man named Kevin Watkins on a suspicion of murder charge. The interesting part being his claim he was the only survivor of the FBI raid on the white supremacists meeting connected with the murder of the Gregg County District Attorney, some weeks previously. He said he witnessed a drone strike on the farm house where the group was meeting. His story created a little buzz, for about five minutes. There was no mention of my part in his capture.
The President of the United States appeared on television to speak about the atrocities perpetrated by religious fundamentalists on the people of Tyler, Texas. He announced that all of the terrorists were killed by federal agents during a raid on their training camp. Tragically, a game warden was killed on the scene. He applauded the wonderful and swift work of the FBI and the Department of Homeland Security, in bringing the religious radicals to justice.
After that, the focus was on the individual victims of the outrageous attack in the shopping mall. I made a point of attending every memorial service I could. I was just another face in the crowds, just another face, with tears streaming down my cheeks. Sorrowful for the pain of those grieving their losses.
An interesting wrinkle in the story of the jihadi massacre was a few of the victims were at the Kyle Coltrane concert the night before the attack. The whole concert was being filmed and recorded for use on a “live” album. Bootlegged video footage of Nat Baha and the Honky Tonk Broncs performance appeared on social media and went viral. His music was even being played on the radio.
While we were all still reeling from the recent horror. Within a week, it happened again. Home grown terrorists made a machine gun attack on a shopping mall in Medford, Oregon. While the shock of that was hitting, there was a bombing of a theater in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Two days later, jihadist gunmen shot up the people in the stands at a high school football game in Dubuque, Iowa, and there was an attack at a festival in Bangor, Maine. Within two weeks, four other cities in four other states were likewise attacked in the name of Allah. The same things were happening in Europe and across the globe. The whole world was being terrorized in the cause of Islamic jihad. In many countries, martial law became the rule and people were being deprived of the freedoms they’d previously enjoyed. Angry citizens took up arms against their innocent Muslim neighbors, committing horrible crimes. There wasn’t anywhere in the world where peace was assured. Nowhere anyone could feel safe. Every country with a strong infrastructure and relative economic health struggled to maintain at least a façade of life as usual.
Then, a magnitude 8.6 earthquake in central California took over the news cycles, with images of fire, destruction and death. The devastation was cataclysmic. Tens of thousands of people were killed, millions were homeless. Emergency services were hampered. All the highways were impassable and the airports were unusable. The only way to deliver supplies or rescue people was by helicopter or by sea. It seemed like the entire world was involved in the relief effort.
As the first days of fall drifted by like wind-blown leaves, life continued in a sad and sickly semblance of former normalcy. Daily, we were informed of new humanitarian crisis caused by catastrophic storms and military conflicts in diverse places. In the ongoing battle against Islamic extremism in the Middle East, the city of Damascus, Syria was completely destroyed. There was speculation the Russians were providing Iran with enriched nuclear materials, suitable for the development of nuclear weapons.
The Islamic Caliphate announced, after centuries of waiting—the Ummah unanimously confirmed the true Mahdi. The Mahdi was the promised one—the man who would bring peace and unite the world for Islam
Christine and I did our best to meet our client’s needs, even as aspects of the wider world were plunging into greater chaos.
I came whistling into the office on a Monday morning and approached Christine sitting at her desk. She was staring at her computer monitor.
“John, have you seen this?”
“Seen what?”
“Our bank statement, it’s showing a deposit of two hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Do you know anything about it?”
“Hmmm, maybe a little. I suspect our client in Israel applied it as a payment for services rendered in the Nat Baha case. Just to be certain, you should contact the bank to determine there hasn’t been some mistake.”
“Ok, I hope you’re right. You seem to be in a rather good mood this morning, what’s up?”
I smiled at her and handed her a plain white envelope addressed to me, without a return address.
“On Friday evening, I found this in my mailbox along with the usual pile of advertising. Snail mail, we tend to forget about it because it’s slow, pretty low tech and under the radar. As you can see, the postmark is from Los Angeles.”
Christine took the letter out of the envelope and began to read.
“Dear, mystery man, (or should I call you Earl?)
I thought I’d take a moment to drop you a line. Our mutual friend has completely recovered from her medical condition and is in good health. I’m sorry to say, although her physical health is good, her e
motional state is not. She is enduring great sorrow at the loss of a loved one. It seems the man in her life is missing.
All of us have returned home and are fully engaged in our former activities. I’ve been instructed to thank you for your fine work and assistance with our crisis situation of a few weeks ago. I believe you’ll find the payment to be sufficient to compensate for your efforts and any additional expense you may have incurred. Please say a warm Texas ‘’Howdy” to Christine for us.
Oh, by the way. Our mutual friend is going to be performing in a concert with the London Symphony Orchestra, in Paris, on the 23rd of this month. You should check it out.
All my love, until we meet again,
Anke”
Christine looked up with tears in her eyes.
“Oh, John…”
It was all she could say.
I grinned at her.
“Would you do me a favor? I have to make some phone calls and handle a few business details. I’ll be tied up for about an hour. I don’t want to be disturbed until I’ve finished. Would you be kind enough to make arrangements for transportation to, and accommodation in Paris? I’m going to a concert.”
Christine smiled, blinking away tears.
“Yes, of course. What departure and return arrangements would you like?”
I chewed on it for a moment. I’d had all weekend to think about it.
“One way to Paris, departure tomorrow the 21st. We’ll leave the return open.”
Christine nodded. She was grinning now.
I handed her my passport.
“One other thing—book everything in the name on this passport. Don’t worry. You’re not breaking any laws. At least none that matter”
Christine studied the passport and looked up at me with wide eyes.
“Thanks, Christine. When I’ve finished my business here, I’ll be going out. As I’m leaving the office I’ll check with you on the itinerary.”
51
I’d been working at my desk for about an hour and twenty minutes. I took a moment to look around at my beautifully appointed office. I admired my heavily carved oak desk and the two upholstered chairs in front of it. I stood and walked over to a window and looked out over the city. I always found peace as I surveyed the park like topography. I was reminded again of how blessed I was to have met Christine when I did. By divine appointment, she was the one who’d found this office space and done such a gracious job of furnishing it. Everything was as it was meant to be.
I stopped by her desk as I was leaving to run some errands.
“Ok, John, at 8:00 AM, tomorrow, I have you flying out of Tyler Pounds to Dallas DFW. You connect in DFW for a 10.05 flight to Paris PAR, with a one hour and twenty-five-minute layover at JFK. That might be a tight connection. I have you arriving in Paris at 5:50 AM, on the 22nd. How does that sound?”
“Perfect. Where will I be staying when I get there?”
“I have you booked into the Pavillon de la Reine on the Place des Vosges. It’s only a four- star hotel, but this was rather short notice. Oh, there’s a shuttle from the airport, and you can ride the metro to the Parc de la Villette.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s where the concert will be, in the Philharmonie de Paris. It’s the newest, most modern and acoustically brilliant concert hall in Europe. Wait till you see it, from a distance it looks like a giant spaceship sitting on the ground. Your ticket will be waiting for you at the hotel.”
“Well done, Christine. I’m impressed.”
“Nothing to it. Glad I could help.”
“Listen, I have some errands to run. I won’t be back till later this afternoon. We’ll need to talk. Will you be here?”
Christine looked concerned.
“Of course, what’s up?”
“I’ll explain it all when I get back.”
I returned to the office at about three fifteen to find Christine on the telephone with a client. I left my door open so she would know to come into my office when she finished the phone call. She walked in a few minutes later looking concerned.
“So, is there a problem?” I asked her.
“You tell me. You’re the mystery man.” She said, sitting down in front of my desk.
“No, I meant with the client.”
“It’s just business as usual. What did you want to talk about?”
I’ve always appreciated people who get right to the point.
“I’ve been thinking…”
Christine rolled her eyes.
“Oh boy, here we go!” She said.
I chuckled. How many conversations had we’d like this? I had a special knack for making Christine roll her eyes.
“Here’s the deal. I’m going to be out of the country for a while. I don’t know for how long, or what’s going to happen. You’re going to manage all aspects of the business while I’m away. I’ve transferred the ownership of the agency to you…”
“What? No, John, I don’t want you to do that!”
I held my hand up to stop her outburst.
“It’s already done. You’ll need to sign some paperwork with our attorney tomorrow, but it’s a done deal. Consider it a wedding gift.”
“No. What are you thinking? Are you even planning to come back?”
“I don’t know, and that’s the point. Christine, you’ve learned everything you need to know to manage this agency. In fact, you’ve been instrumental in making it what it is today. I’d appreciate it if you would continue the name, ‘Tucker Investigations,’ but other than that, it’s all yours to run anyway you want to. I should point out, there’s a certain Detective Lieutenant of the Tyler PD, approaching twenty years on the force. Tony might be willing to retire from public service and go into private practice. I can’t imagine a better team of investigators.”
Christine was silent. Her eyes filled with tears, threatening to spill down her cheeks.
I pretended to ignore her subdued display of emotion.
“Oh, I almost forgot. I’ve arranged to give up my apartment. I’d appreciate it if you would dispose of my furniture and whatever else I leave behind, which includes my truck. Actually, the truck belongs to the agency, so you may want to keep it. It’s mighty useful to have.”
I set the keys on my desk. Christine snatched the box of tissues instead, and began to dab at her eyes, blotting away the tears.
“I’ll take a taxi to my apartment and to the airport in the morning.” I mumbled.
“Like hell, you will!” She snapped. “I’ll drive you to your apartment, and Tony and I will take you to the airport in the morning.”
I started to say something, but she wasn’t having it.
“Shut up! I don’t want to hear another word. You listen to me. You have some firearms and other equipment the agency wants to buy. I don’t intend to leave them in your apartment until some later date. Let’s go take care of that, right now.”
Christine stood up, and spun toward the door, leaving the truck keys on the desktop as she marched away. I’m no expert on women’s behavior, but I figured she was trying to tell me the conversation was over.
Twenty-four hours after Christine and I left the office, I was flying over the Atlantic Ocean at 38,000 feet, semi-reclined in a first-class seat on an Air France jet. I was looking at my tablet, reading the news. As usual, the news was mostly horrible, and entirely predictable.
It seemed there was an increased level of sun spot activity. Solar flares were becoming more pronounced. Many speculated this could accelerate global climate change, with unpredictable consequences. Others were concerned one or more electromagnetic pulses might well disrupt communications or damage significant portions of the electrical grid, possibly affecting the entire planet.
In a related story, we were told the reason the moon was continually blood red, to all observers, was due to an unforeseen cloud of cosmic dust particles passing between the earth and the moon. That same dust cloud, coupled with the massive ash cloud created by the volcan
os recently erupting in Greenland, Japan, and Chile, was also blamed for obscuring large areas of the night sky. It now appeared as if millions of the stars and even familiar constellations had simply disappeared. There was speculation there might also be something in the volcanic ash causing the death of millions of birds worldwide, as well as the massive fish kills in all of the world’s oceans.
In Russia, an unprecedented earth quake destroyed most of the city of Moscow, causing another humanitarian crisis and disrupting the flow of natural gas and oil into and out of the region. The quake and aftershocks had been felt all the way to China in the east, Portugal in the west, Turkey in the south and Artic regions to the north. There was considerable damage done throughout the Balkan’s.
The latest outbreak of a new strain of Ebola in West Africa now claimed nearly twenty-five thousand lives and an estimated one hundred thousand were sickened. United Nations troops were dispatched to aid in controlling the widespread panic and resulting violence. Containment was failing. It was believed hundreds, if not thousands of people (an unknown number infected) might have fled the region, possibly traveling to Europe and the United States. The World Health Organization feared the epidemic would spread beyond the African continent and become a worldwide pandemic. We were told there was no need for concern because the standard of medicine in developed countries was light years ahead of that in the third world. Even if Ebola spread across the globe, the death toll might be reasonably small.
In other news, the Mahdi announced he was calling on all Islamic fighters throughout the world to cease hostilities against the infidels. He believed it was time for a cessation of violence and a season of peace. Further, he declared he was in support of allowing the building of the Hebrew Temple in Jerusalem! He himself would leave Medina to take up residence in Damascus, where he would oversee the rebuilding of the war torn city.
I thought about what the MahdI’d said. It would take some time, but within three and half years or so, he might just be able to get it done. The Mahdi might be able to calm the raging madness and bring peace to the world. For a time. After all, it would fit the plan.
The Ticking Clock Page 20
