Apocalypse Dawn

by Mel Odom

  “The size of a mustard seed, Captain. At least, that’s what my father told me in his church and in his house.”

  “When I saw Donaldson go at you,” Falkirk said, “when I saw the fear in him and I knew in my heart that you were right, I knew if I wasn’t careful I was going to watch this ship’s crew tear itself apart. Believers, nonbelievers. Christians, non-Christians. Those who were afraid, and those who were not.” He paused. “I couldn’t allow that to happen. Not on my watch.”

  “So you decided to jettison me, sir?” Delroy let some of the outrage he felt spill into his voice. “And you stand there telling me you believe what I’m saying is true?”

  “Chaplain, the world is living in fear at this moment. Everything that has happened on Wasp has happened in the rest of the world. Russia stands poised to attack the United States with its nuclear arsenal and take us straight into Armageddon. I’m not willing to go there. Not without a fight.”

  “But, Captain,” Delroy protested, “I could do a lot of good aboard this ship. I could counsel the men. I could—”

  “You could,” Falkirk interrupted in a calm, firm voice, “do a lot more toward saving lives by speaking at the Pentagon and convincing the Joint Chiefs of Staff of your belief.” He paused. “Of our belief, Chaplain.”

  Delroy felt as though he’d been poleaxed. “The Pentagon, sir? The Joint Chiefs of Staff? Me, sir?”

  “You’ll enjoy the joint chiefs. They’ll be a tough crowd, but after watching you witness to Colonel Donaldson in my office, I know you’re the right man for the job. Your father would be proud of you.”

  The enormity of the task laid before him hit Delroy like a ton of bricks. “But, sir, my place is here. With Wasp. This crew has never needed me more. And I have never been more able to serve them.”

  “Are you scared, Chaplain?”

  Delroy took a deep breath. “Aye, sir. More than I can ever remember being.”

  Falkirk smiled a little. “You can do more in Washington right now, Chaplain, than you can here. Let’s work to save lives first, then we’ll work to save souls.” He offered his hand. “I made my decision down in my office. I’d made it before your confrontation with Colonel Donaldson. I was prepared to try to convince you of the Rapture.”

  “That’s why you had the Bible on your desk?”

  “That Bible,” Falkirk said, “is always on my desk or near to hand. When I have to deal with problems with personnel, I reach for that Bible before I reach for the Navy manuals.”

  “I didn’t know that, Captain.”

  “Just as I didn’t know if your convictions had strengthened enough to handle this situation. I know your son’s death troubles you, and I know you’ve struggled with your own faith.”

  Delroy’s face felt hot. “I’m shamed to know that you were aware of that.”

  “We all struggle with our faith,” Falkirk said. “I just didn’t know if you’d be ready for the task I was going to ask of you. But when I saw you stand up to Colonel Donaldson, when I saw the belief in your eyes, I knew I didn’t have to sell you. Just as I know you won’t back down from the joint chiefs.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then shake my hand, Chaplain,” Falkirk said, “and climb aboard that helo. You’re wasting fuel standing here talking, and I don’t know that I have the reserves for it.”

  “Aye, sir. You’re right, sir.” Delroy shoved his hat under his arm and took the captain’s hand. They shook.

  “Godspeed, Chaplain,” Falkirk said.

  “Thank you, sir.” Delroy stepped back, saluted smartly, then performed an about-face and jogged toward the waiting Sea Stallion.

  Once Delroy was safely buckled in his seat, the pilot pulled the CH-53E into the air and informed him they would be stopping in Greece to pick up the plane Falkirk had requisitioned for the flight to Washington, D.C. The pilot informed him that the plane trip would take fifteen or sixteen hours.

  Delroy gazed down through the window, watching as Wasp and the rest of the ARG grew smaller and smaller against the blanket of green sea. Seeing the vessels made him realize how small his world really was while he was living aboard Wasp.

  And how big the problem facing him really was.

  But the stakes, God help me, You know what the stakes are. As he bowed his head and began to pray, Delroy was surprised at how quickly and easily the words came to him, but he took strength in them.

  Edessa Hotel Sanliurfa

  Sanliurfa, Turkey

  Local Time 2:13 P.M.

  “It’s hard sitting around watching the news when you don’t get to be part of it, isn’t it?” The words carried the plummy accent of the finest British boarding schools.

  Seated at a back booth in the Edessa Hotel’s restaurant, Danielle Vinchenzo swiveled her gaze from the nearby wall-mounted television and looked at the dark-complexioned woman standing in the aisle near her table.

  The woman was striking—though her appearance was a surprise. Instead of the fair Sloan Ranger Danielle expected after hearing that voice, she saw a woman who would stand out in any crowd—and especially in a crowd of British blue bloods. She had café au lait skin that gleamed in the light and a mass of black hair pulled up in a style that made her look both professional and alluring. Her dark brown silk business suit was a handmade Italian original that showed off her slim figure. Her purse complemented the look and the suit well. She could have been a runway model for modern businesswomen’s attire. Her age could have been anywhere from mid-twenties to mid-fifties. She obviously took good care of herself.

  “Do I know you?” Danielle asked.

  “Not yet,” the woman replied. “My name is Valerica Hergheligiu.”

  “I’m Danielle—”

  “Vinchenzo,” the woman said. She smiled. “I know who you are, Miss Vinchenzo. I’ve seen your work.”

  “I’m flattered.” Danielle sat up a little straighter. The horrific events at Glitter City had taken place nearly seven hours ago. By rights, she felt she should have been up in her hotel room fast asleep. Or even better, in the thick of things, reporting on them.

  Only she couldn’t sleep. And she couldn’t work. She was stuck out here watching the television, being a spectator to the breaking news instead of part of it. Her boss hadn’t returned her calls. And her news crew had refused to even think about going to the border where the action was. They’d been too shaken up, between the bombs and the deaths and the bullets and the people who had disappeared from among them. The crew didn’t have satellite access for a broadcast anyway. Their equipment was another casualty of this disastrous day.

  So she’d been stuck in her hotel. She’d tried to watch the news from her room, but it hadn’t been an option because the violence of the morning had seemed to gather around her and wrap her in a cloud of invisible menace. She’d been too uncomfortable alone in her room to be able to watch the news there. She needed lights, people, noise around her—anything to make the world feel normal again. So here she was in a hotel restaurant, with a television tuned to news for company, and a woman trapping her in the booth, wearing clothes that cost more money than Danielle made in a month.

  “You should feel flattered,” Valerica said. “I’ve come a long way to find you.”

  “You have?” None of this was making sense to Danielle.

  “Yes, I have.” Valerica glanced at the booth seat on the other side of the table. “May I sit down?”

  “Of course. I’m sorry.” Danielle waved to the other booth. “Please. Make yourself at home.” Though if that suit was any indication, home wouldn’t look anything like this hotel’s restaurant.

  The woman sat, then gestured to a waiter. “Have you eaten?”

  “No,” Danielle admitted.

  “That’s Turkish coffee you’re drinking?”

  Danielle glanced down at her demitasse cup. “Yes. I’ve developed a weakness for it since I’ve been here.”

  “Turkish coffee is the milk of chess players and thinkers,” Valeric
a said.

  “That’s what I’ve been told,” Danielle agreed.

  “On an empty stomach, dear girl, that drink is much too sweet and rich.”

  Danielle studied the woman. She had always prided herself on reading people, had always been quick to figure out an angle someone was about to play. But she couldn’t get a reading from Valerica.

  The waiter hovered expectantly.

  “The mutton shanks kebab with vegetables is very good here,” the woman suggested. “Allow me to order for us both.”

  “All right.” Danielle watched as the woman ordered in fluent Turkish, though she had the impression that language wasn’t her native one.

  The waiter nodded and went away.

  “You’ll have to forgive me,” Danielle said, “but I’m frazzled and not quite myself. It’s been an unbelievable day, and I’m about done for. I’m hardly good company right now. I imagine I’m going to appear rude or abrupt.”

  “Not at all, dear girl.” Valerica gazed at her with complete interest. “I’m sure you have questions about many things. Including who I am. Please feel free to ask them.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “In Turkey?”

  “Talking to me.”

  The woman shrugged and smiled as if at her own humor. “Why, I’m here because I want to make you an offer that you can’t refuse.”

  The bald statement made Danielle uneasy, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. Maybe it was the too-casual manner in which the woman had made her announcement. She held her silence and waited to see what else this woman had to say.

  “You’re a media specialist,” Valerica continued. “You interview well. You stay current on your assignments and the rest of the world that you’re not covering. You look good on camera.”

  For a moment, the thought that she should get up from the table and just walk away bumped gently through Danielle’s mind, like a butterfly banging against a glass window. But it vanished as her innate curiosity took over. There was a story here. She could feel it. There was always a story when she got that cold itch across the back of her neck.

  “So?” Danielle said.

  Valerica smiled and reached into her purse. She laid a business card on the tabletop.

  Danielle read the card. “OneWorld Communications. I’m impressed.” “Not without just cause, dear girl. OneWorld Communications is quickly becoming a media force to be reckoned with.”

  “Indeed.” Danielle searched her brain for background info. “You’re owned by Nicolae Carpathia, the man who was made the new president of Romania as of yesterday.”

  “The very same.” Valerica smiled again. “See? You knew that. In spite of everything you’ve been covering here in Turkey, you knew that. This is one of the very reasons we want to hire you.”

  “Hire me?”

  “As a reporter, dear girl.”

  Danielle tried to relax. “I’m under contract with FOX News.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Panic filled Danielle. She’d prided herself on the work at FOX, but she’d had her share of personality conflicts with the producer who handled her stories. What had happened to her job? “What are you talking about?”

  “OneWorld Communications opened discussions with FOX News nearly a week ago with regard to your contract. We wanted to hire you away from them. Less than an hour ago, we managed to buy you out of that contract.”

  “Without contacting me?”

  “It didn’t make sense to talk to you until we’d reached an agreement with FOX.”

  “What kind of agreement?” Worry bounced inside Danielle’s head. She had car payments and apartment payments, along with all the other ordinary financial obligations that had to be met. Payments that she could only make if she had a steady supply of cash coming in—and it looked like her job back at FOX had just vanished in the wind. Apparently today’s catastrophes weren’t over yet.

  “We bought that contract out for a princely sum, which I shall not be gauche enough to discuss with you.”

  “What if I like my job at FOX? What if I don’t want to work with OneWorld?”

  Valerica smiled. “How can you not want to work with us? OneWorld is going to be one of the biggest media corporations in, well, the world.”

  “That’s your opinion.” Danielle tried to quell her rebellion but couldn’t. She had never liked being dictated to. It was something that had been a part of her character since she was old enough to talk. It was one of the reasons she’d left home the very day she got out of high school—and that she’d made her own way in the world ever since.

  “Dear girl—” Valerica’s melodious voice took on a slightly icy tone—“that is not my opinion. That is a fact.”

  Danielle barely noticed the waiter as he returned with another demitasse cup. Her senses blurred. Maybe the sugared coffee was getting to her.

  “You were at Glitter City during the attack this morning,” Valerica said.

  “Yes. Believe me, I noticed,” Danielle said. “But let’s talk about something more interesting. What happens if I don’t accept your job offer?”

  Valerica reached into her purse again and took out an envelope. She slid the envelope across the table. “That is a certified check for two years’ pay at your present salary, plus a 10-percent raise for your second year with us. If you don’t want to work for us, take the money; FOX takes the money we gave them, and you can go back to work for that network. But there’s more where that came from if you’d care to join us. We think you have the talent and the drive to be one of the best reporters in the world. You’re career will take off for the stratosphere if you work with us. I assure you, you’ll never regret taking this offer.”

  Danielle opened the envelope, looked at the check, and found the amount was exactly what the woman had promised. It was a nice check, with lots of zeros on the good side of the decimal point. She whistled softly. “I’m a bit surprised by this. It’s clear from this check that you’ve planned this in advance and that you’re serious about this offer. But why me? What do you want from me? How can I believe you?”

  “You’re a reporter,” Valerica said. “You shouldn’t believe me. You should want to check the facts for yourself.” She took a satellite phone from her purse, which Danielle was beginning to believe was filled with magic tricks or a hole to another dimension. “Call your news producer.”

  Dazed, definitely feeling the sugar high from the Turkish coffee, Danielle reached for the phone. She dialed the number and, surprisingly, got through immediately.

  “Hello?”

  Even though she recognized the voice, Danielle couldn’t help asking, “Aaron Diller?”

  “Yes. Danielle? Danielle, is that you? Do you have any idea of what time it is over here?”

  Glancing at her watch, Danielle said, “It’s six-nineteen.”

  Diller swore. “In the morning, Danielle! I just got to sleep.”

  “You’re doing better than I am. I haven’t slept at all. I’ve got no sympathy for you, Aaron. My day got kind of ruined when the SCUDs fell all around me this morning and killed my friends and destroyed a bunch of my equipment. Or maybe it was when I got shot at by the Syrian military. Or maybe it was when people all around me disappeared without an explanation. If you want to compare comfort levels right now, Aaron, I’m gonna have the upper hand. Why haven’t you called me? Why haven’t you answered when I tried to check in?”

  “I’ve been trying to call you,” Diller said. “Every time I dialed your hotel, I got a message that the circuits were busy. How did you get this number? This is my home number.”

  “Last year’s Christmas party,” Danielle said. “You had one drink too many. Or maybe you had five too many. Anyway, you hit on me. Somewhere between offering me more air time on international news spots, a bigger office, a larger and more forgiving expense account, and the keys to your Lexus, you gave me your home phone number.”

  “Oh. I don’t remember that.”

  “Somehow, I can’t
forget it.” Danielle looked at the woman on the other side of the table. “I want to talk to you about OneWorld Communications.”

  Suspicion vibrated in Diller’s words. “What about them?”

  “I’m sitting with Valerica Hergheligiu from OneWorld Communications,” Danielle said. “She’s convinced that her corporation has bought out my contract.”

  “Man,” Diller said, “they’re already there?”

  “Is it true?”

  “Hey, Danielle,” Diller said, “in my own defense, I think you’re gonna come out of this thing okay. I negotiated pretty good bonuses for all of us that—”

  Danielle cut the man off with a hiss too angry to contain recognizable words, then broke the connection. She looked at Valerica as she struggled to get her temper under control. “It seems I’m technically unemployed at the moment. This comes as a bit of a surprise to me. But, even so, I shouldn’t have hung up on him. I hope you’ll allow me that brief lapse of professionalism.”

  Valerica spread her hands. “Of course. It sounds justified. But let’s talk about your new career with OneWorld.”

  “I still haven’t agreed to accept your offer.”

  A bright smile split Valerica’s face. “Dear girl, you should at least feign interest until you’ve had time to cash that check.”

  Danielle couldn’t help grinning. “True.”

  “We want you to continue covering the Turkish-Syrian problem,” Valerica said. “And we believe we’ve found a focal point for your story.” She took a mini-DVD player with a superb color screen from her purse, placed it on the table, and switched it on.

  Danielle gazed at the gleaming device. “I love the toys already.” She’d always been interested in cutting-edge technology.

  “Just the tip of the iceberg, dear girl.”

  The five-inch screen cleared and showed the kind of footage that had aired almost constantly on all the networks over the last few hours. This particular piece focused on the unexplained mishap that had wrecked almost all of the Marine airships coming to the aid of the border forces she’d interviewed so recently.

  The camera shot tightened up on a lone Army Ranger sergeant carrying a wounded Marine from a burning helicopter.