“Exactly what I thought,” Draven agreed.
He stepped out of the presidental suite, ready to draw the world closer to him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I will be brief in my remarks here, as I am overwhelmed with the support by world leaders for me to lead the U.N. through this next chapter in the aftermath of the horrible disappearances. I will have several announcements regarding resolutions and plans for the days ahead, but I want to thank President Rodgers and the American people for leading the way. President Rodgers stated that America will denuclearize and provide additional military resources to the U.N. to help further the peacekeeping role this great organization champions.
“Additionally America has graciously provided me with Air Force One to use in my service to the U.N. I will take only a couple of questions now,” Draven said, almost magnanimously.
“Herb Katz, from the Boston Reader, so you really believe that an alien power took all the religious folks, including children, out of the world because they were the problem?”
“I believe that a forgotten power, alien in that sense, did, in fact, remove the harmful religious element from our world for humanity to unify and achieve our potential,” Draven agreed.
“You mean unify peacefully, with enhanced military capabilities under your leadership of the world?” Katz said, drawing ire from the press pool for asking the second question.
Draven chuckled at the brazen confidence of the reporter but did not fall into the trap of his question. “I admire your instincts, young man. You have great potential. My role right now is to lead the U.N. and convince the world leaders that peace is our only hope for a better tomorrow.”
Gemma quickly inserted, “There will be no further questions for the secretary-general,” as Draven headed back to the secretary-general suite of the newly acquired Air Force One.
CHAPTER 11
As Christopher and Jackson made their way to the Pentagon on Friday morning to finalize plans for securing the nuclear black site in Alaska, they were greeted by a red-orange dawn sky over the Jefferson Memorial tidal basin. Christopher couldn’t help but see the contrast between the beautiful dawning of a new day and the carnage left behind from the rapture. Looted and burned cars were littering the streets, making the regular D.C. morning commute a thing of the past as fewer and fewer drivers attempted to navigate around crews working to clean up the mess and collect the dead.
In the distance, at Regan National, the end of a taxiway had become a graveyard for twisted airplanes. The rapture had been instantaneous but a nightmare for those caught in its wake. Christopher dreaded the thought that God’s judgment of the world was only beginning.
As Jackson and Christopher’s ridesharing service passed the numerous office buildings adjacent to the Pentagon, Christopher almost sensed the regularity of a routine business day, as the parking lots were full of cars. However, he knew they just bore witness to the rapture. Many of the cars hadn’t been moved since that day and were a physical manifestation that some had been taken and some left, but all had been affected by the event.
“You guys have a good day,” offered the rideshare driver as Christopher and Jackson exited the vehicle in the north parking lot of the Pentagon.
“Be blessed,” Jackson returned, drawing an unaffected nod from the driver as he pulled away. “What? I hope the guy is blessed today, perhaps coming to believe in Jesus, like me,” he added in response to a surprised look from Christopher.
“No, I am just shocked at the transformation in you, from ignorance of Jesus to curiosity, and now a passion for your belief in Him.”
“I can’t explain it myself. I just wish I had made the decision to accept Jesus into my life as Lord before the rapture.”
“I am starting to feel the same,” Christopher confessed as they walked through the security line at the Pentagon.
“Coming from you, that statement is shocking,” Jackson responded, eyebrows shooting skyward.
* * *
Gabriella’s rideshare arrived earlier than expected at the U.N. headquarters in midtown New York City. Traffic was less hectic than usual for a Friday morning in the Big Apple, but with so many people gone and still missing, she quickly realized her early arrival was due to the disappearances. The city had suffered population losses just like every other city, but it seemed to her that New York City had also lost the energetic and optimistic feeling that defined the city and its inhabitants.
As she walked toward the U.N. entrance, she noticed a group of Hasidic Jewish men forming what looked like a protest behind barricades nearby. They carried signs in what looked like Hebrew script. While it wasn’t bizarre to see Hasidic Jews in New York City or a demonstration near the U.N., it was their manner of dress that caught Gabriella’s attention— they had donned what looked like burlap coats over their traditional black pants. At one point, Gabriella met the eyes of the man she guessed to be the leader of the group—a taller, slender man who was rallying the others like a coach does before a big game.
Dismissing the gathering as she mentally prepared for her own “game,” she entered the U.N. lobby. If she were honest, she had to admit to herself that she was worried about whether or not she was up to the task she’d been given and also about whether or not Draven Cross was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.
Gemma Sutherland approached Gabriella almost as soon as she entered the building. “Good morning, Dr. Costa. I am glad to see you’re punctual, as we have a full-day scheduled.”
“Oh, you startled me, Ms. Sutherland. I didn’t expect to meet you in the lobby. And, please, call me Gabriella.”
“As you wish, Gabriella. But as I said, we have a tight schedule for today. Please follow me. And call me Gemma.”
Gemma led Gabriella by building security, handing her U.N. credentials with a photo already attached as they entered a bank of elevators leading them to the executive floor.
“How did you get my most recent CIA photo for these credentials?” Gabriella asked.
“I merely called Langley and had the digital copy sent to the badging office. You will soon realize that Mr. Cross has unlimited resources.”
Gabriella’s apprehension about being exposed as a spy for the American government rose as Gemma spoke of the far-reaching powers of Draven Cross. What on earth have I gotten myself into? she wondered fretfully.
“Here we are. Your office is the one down the hall in the far-right corner. You will need to be in the secretary-general’s office for an introductory meeting in ten minutes. His office is at the end of this hall through the double-glass doors, in case you couldn’t guess.
“One final thing, Gabriella. Always try to stay ahead of Draven, as it’s better to be at the right hand of the devil than in his path,” Gemma advised before heading off to her own alcove outside the double-glass doors leading to the purgatory awaiting Gabriella.
Gabriella had no idea what to make of Gemma’s last statement, or the drop of formality in using Cross’s first name, but if it had accomplished anything, her training at the “Farm” had prepared her to handle working in this environment. She thought back to the words of her favorite instructor, a Cold-War-era CIA veteran, as she stared out of her office window across the East River toward Long Island: “Remember the Moscow Rules. They will save you in countless situations.”
* * *
Draven had wasted little time in removing any items adorning the secretary-general’s office that were of cultural significance or that spoke of the legacy of his predecessors. He opted for a clean, modern motif with neutral beige walls, several mahogany-colored leather upholstered chairs, and two large leather sofas in the chasm that was his new office. Most prominent in the room was the massive, handcrafted British rosewood executive desk that carried an almost black luster in the wood. He had insisted that his desk align directly with the entrance to his office—he had every intention of imposing himself instantly on all who entered.
During the relatively few hours he had been secretary-gener
al, Draven had found endless delight in watching people lose their confidence and nerve in his office. Highlighting people’s weaknesses is pure pleasure, he thought to himself while lecturing Evan Mallory.
“Evan, let me enlighten you on the way forward for the world—the process I will use to build a new world from the old. I call this plan Project Babylon. You play a crucial role in my vision. The Interfaith religion you created will serve as a compliment to my political and economic plans, thus bringing the entire world under my stewardship. I expect you to have the Global Economic and Governance Forum of the ten world leaders I’ve provided you finalized by Monday. It is critical that the world accepts Project Babylon.”
“Sir, it is an honor to serve you. Your vision will bring the world to a place of unimagined prosperity. Everything is on track for the leaders’ conference, though President Rodgers was upset about Air Force One and your announcement of American support before he had the opportunity to address the nation,” Evan replied.
“Ha, that old fool should be glad I didn’t make the White House my new headquarters,” scoffed Cross.
“I will also announce the U.N. backing of Interfaith as a step to unite diverse groups and best foster peace as compared to other spiritual mediums,” Evan continued.
“Evan, did you just call this organization the U.N.?”
“Yes, sir. I was not aware that you had changed—” Evan was interrupted by Draven swearing at him.
“I have yet to understand what the Prince of This World sees in you. You will either keep up with me or I will find a replacement for you. I don’t care what our mutual spiritual mentor says. By the end of the day, the U.N. will be known as the Unified Earth Organization, U.E. for short. ‘One world and one people, striving for peace’ is our mantra. You should have sensed the need for that change without my having to articulate it,” Draven continued, swearing at Evan in dismissal as he buzzed Gemma’s intercom for Gabriella.
Gabriella overheard swearing emanating from the office as Evan Mallory, red-faced and sweaty, stormed off to his office adjacent to hers.
“You can enter now. Please leave your phone with me; we’ll run a security scan on it during your meeting,” Gemma told Gabriella.
“Scanning my phone…this is a first,” Gabriella replied, carefully schooling her face so as not to reveal the trepidation this pronouncement caused.
“Standard procedure for new hires,” Gemma replied, looking sympathetically into Gabriella’s eyes before motioning her to enter Draven’s office.
Gabriella felt a shiver run down her spine and beads of sweat forming on her palms and forehead as Draven Cross eyed her from behind a giant desk as she stopped inside the doorway of the secretary-general’s office. Her mind was racing. What if security personnel discover my phone is an encrypted communicator? I could be floating in the East River by lunch. Calm down and pay attention—you are in the lion’s den and need your wits about you, she admonished herself as Draven motioned for her to be seated in a deceptively uncomfortable leather chair in front of his desk.
“Good morning, Gabriella,” Draven greeted her. “It’s a pleasure to finally have someone of your intellect and talent aboard my staff.”
“Thank you, sir. It’s a great opportunity and privilege to work with you toward achieving a better world,” Gabriella returned calmly.
“Yes, it is a privilege to work toward such a noble goal. So tell me, how did a trained spy who has conducted numerous clandestine operations around the world end up sitting in front of me?”
“I am not sure why you would think I am a trained spy,” Gabriella responded, trying to remain calm as she tried to ascertain whether her cover had already been blown.
“Let’s not play games, Gabriella. I have your entire dossier and operational history right here in front of me.” Draven made a show of throwing the files across the desk at Gabriella. He smiled, revealing his snow-white teeth, as Gabriella looked at the documents with stunned dismay. Her face, however, gave away nothing of her feelings.
“I don’t see how my past affects my present employment, sir.”
“Oh, but it does, my dear. I have every intention of your using all those skills the American government taught you and that Ivy League intellect to help me ferret out my enemies—all those who seek to undermine my vision for global peace.” Draven’s silky voice held a thread of underlying steel.
“And who would those enemies be, sir?”
“Let’s start with your former boss, President Rodgers. I have this feeling that the old dog is trying to come up with a few new tricks. Tell me, would that be a correct assessment?” Draven queried pointedly.
“Sir, President Rodgers is a man who wants peace. He is seeking your goodwill, which is one reason for my appointment to work with you,” Gabriella replied, hoping to deflect away from her allegiances and to reinforce Draven’s vision.
Draven stood and walked behind Gabriella, causing her to whirl around to face him looking down at her.
“You are fooling only yourself, Gabriella. You believe in intellect, reason, and the hope that a leader with the right ideology will usher in the world of your dreams. You’re wrong. It’s the use of power to exploit the weaknesses of people and systems that will create the world you desire. I will identify enemies to my goals, and you will provide me with weaknesses to crush them. Do you understand?” Draven demanded as he hovered over Gabriella.
Gabriella felt almost no control over herself as she stared into Draven’s intense green eyes. She heard herself respond affirmatively but realized there was no emotion behind the response, as if she were not the one speaking.
“Welcome to the team. I expect a complete report by Sunday evening outlining the foibles of each of the ten leaders that will be attending next week’s conference. That’s all for now,” Draven said in dismissal as he once again seated himself behind his desk.
Gabriella walked out of Draven’s office in a daze and shook her head, trying to clear her mind and get her new boss’s gaze out of her mind. As she sat down at her desk with her hands bracketing her face and became lost in thought, Gabriella realized with certainty that she was intellectually outmatched by Draven. She stared at her quantum communicator on the corner of the desk. A sticky note had been attached, merely saying she was okay. However, Gabriella knew she was far from good. Her brain would not be enough to keep her alive as a spy in the ranks of Draven Cross. She breathed aloud the words that had been running incessantly through her mind for the last several days. “What have I gotten myself into?”
* * *
As Christopher and Jackson made their way into the Omega Group office spaces in the Pentagon, both men stopped at the sight of John Barnes intently “working” at a classified information computer terminal.
“Oh, hey, how’s it going?” John greeted them, quickly logging off the computer and standing as Christopher approached the terminal.
“You tell me, John. What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Christopher asked.
What Christopher did not realize about John Barnes was he always sought to benefit himself in any situation. His early arrival to the Omega Group offices and snooping through classified files was Barnes’s way of finding something he could use in the future.
“Yeah, I’ve never thought of you as particularly industrious,” Jackson added.
“That’s funny, Jackson, considering I’m on the same elite team as you,” Barnes spat back.
“That’s enough,” Christopher ordered, moving in between the two men.
“You’re right. I’m going to grab some coffee,” Jackson explained, staring Barnes down as he left the room.
“John, I was hoping to have this conversation later, but that little exchange is just further evidence that you’re not a good fit for Omega,” Christopher said.
“What? You’re kicking me off Omega because I don’t play well with Jackson? This is ridiculous,” Barnes said, shoving a chair in palpable anger.
“Look, you�
��re emotionally out of control. Starting with Brazil, your constant flare-ups with the team sergeant, aka Jackson, and the way you just handled this news is final confirmation. It all tells me you’re a walking liability, which in our line of work is unacceptable. I have serious doubts that anything is going to improve, so effective today, you’re reassigned to SOCOM headquarters,” Christopher ordered.
“I always heard you were a Boy Scout, Barrett. I’ll one-up your reassignment—I’m retiring. But trust me, you will regret this move.” Barnes punched a wall next to Christopher before grabbing his backpack and leaving the Omega Group offices.
“Hey, did I just see Barnes walking out of here?” Jackson asked, reappearing with two cups of coffee.
“Yep, I just sent him packing,” Christopher replied.
“Oh, that’s a shame,” Jackson muttered, not even trying to hide a big, toothy grin.
“It’s not funny, Jackson. Barnes was crazy, but he’s a skilled operative. We will miss his talent in the days ahead.”
“Whatever, man. That dude should have never been here. He was a turd that just wouldn’t flush. So what do we need to do for this mission?”
Christopher and Jackson were planning for the security mission at the nuclear black site in Alaska, with other members of Omega filtering in and out of the room, when Christopher’s quantum mobile device vibrated, meaning a new message had been delivered. The display read: “Package from Susan destroyed in 15 minutes.”
“Jackson, take over. I’ve got to step out for a few minutes,” Christopher ordered before darting into Gabriella’s old office. He hit identify on his phone’s display, which would close the quantum key distribution loop between his device and the sender, in this case dubbed Susan, aka Gabriella. The system checked near instantaneously for eavesdropping or “hacking.” Hacking a quantum system required some level of measuring, which would produce a detectable anomaly, causing the transmission of a sender’s message to fail.
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