Brink of Chaos (6 page)

The little communications-center TV set hanging over the desk of Lieutenant Deborah Jordan was set to C-SPAN. Deborah’s eyes were trained on the screen. President Tulrude had just hung the Medal of Honor around Captain Jimmy Louder’s neck. Next to Louder, his wife, Ginny, a petite brunette, was beaming and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Louder’s head was held high, his back straight, and his face now fuller than it was since the first pictures on the web newspapers that broke the story of his rescue from North Korea.

Deborah made a private bet with herself as she watched. She knew that Medal of Honor winners were usually permitted to say a few words.
But not this time
, she mused. And she knew why. There was no way Tulrude was going to give Jimmy Louder the chance to publicly acknowledge Deborah’s father’s role in the rescue.

And she was right.

After President Tulrude shook Captain Louder’s hand, she stepped back to the podium and talked about Captain Louder. “This humble, likeable guy, Captain Jimmy Louder, patrolled the dangerous DMZ to keep that region safe and was shot down by hostile forces. He exemplified the most extraordinary strength, resolve, and bravery during his captivity — some of the finest conduct America’s military has ever seen.”

Tulrude motioned to Captain Louder and applauded him,
wrangling the applause of the attendees in the Rose Garden like a maestro. Then she quickly escorted Jimmy Louder and his wife into a private White House reception, away from the reporters who were calling out questions.

Deborah shook her head silently, then turned the volume down on the TV. She returned to her work. Her office was located right next to the Press Operations Center in the titanic, five-sided fortress of the Department of Defense. The location of her desk was an anomaly because she hadn’t been assigned to the press center. As it turned out, nothing, including her desk assignment, had matched her expectations since her graduation with honors from West Point.

As she resumed her review of a raft of bids for the new DOD computer software installations, she noticed someone standing, cap in hand, by her desk. He was a young red-headed fellow, a second lieutenant like herself. There was something familiar about him. Then Deborah pieced it together. She had seen him linger at her cubicle before as he had passed by.

Deborah gave him a glance.

“Lieutenant Jordan,” the young man began, “just wantin’ to congratulate you on your father’s successful mission in North Korea. The folks around here all know about it and salute your father … even if the politicians don’t … if you get my drift.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant.” She tossed him a half smile and eyed him more closely.

“And I’d say —
hooah
, Colonel Joshua Jordan, if I may.”

Her smile got bigger. “Yes, you may.” She glanced at his name tag —
Lt. Birdow
. “Soldier, you have a first name?”

“Ye s, ma’am.’ Tom.”

“I’m Deborah.”

“Pleased to meet you.”

Birdow cocked an eyebrow at her. “If I may ask, are you with the DOD press center?”

“No. People just think that because my desk is here.”

“Then you’re in the Defense Information Systems Agency unit like me?”

“Right. Except …”

He filled it in, “You didn’t get assigned to Fort Mead in Maryland where the rest of us in
DISA
are stationed.”

“Nope.” She didn’t elaborate.

Tom Birdow looked like he was going to follow up but decided against it.

Deborah was enjoying the company — and the break from the tedium. “So what brings you to HQ?”

“Just dropped off some papers at the E Ring.”

She wanted to ask him why he had just couriered something to the inner ring of the Pentagon where the senior Army officials had their offices, but she didn’t pry. She didn’t have to. He explained, “This information coordination between DOD and Homeland Security for BIDTagging citizens is one big complicated system.”

Tom’s last comment hit a sour note with Deborah, for intensely personal reasons. “I bet,” she said, dropping her smile. Now she was thinking about her mother’s defiance of the new government mandate and the risks she was taking. Her voice took on a formal tone. “Well, Lieutenant,” she said, “back to business.”

“I’ll stop in again, next time I’m in the neighborhood.”

“Please do.”

After he left, Deborah felt the urge to call her mom.
Later
, she thought.
I’ll call from my apartment
.

She looked around her cubicle and thought about Tom Birdow’s unasked question, which she herself had asked repeatedly. Why
hadn’t
she been transferred to Fort Mead with the rest of the DISA staff? Instead, she was tucked away in this obscure corner of the Pentagon. Deborah, of course, had her suspicions. And it had to do with the controversial nature of the “Jordan” legacy.

I’m being isolated because of my last name
.

Abigail was on the video phone with Joshua, who was back in Israel. He had just finished briefing her on all of the details of the mission to rescue Captain Louder — the ones the White House would never
admit and the American people would never learn — unless, of course, it was laid out in AmeriNews, the only remaining news source not controlled in some way by the current administration.

Abigail needed to know, so she asked once again, “So, you’re really safe now? Really?”

“Yes.”

She sighed. A shiver went down her back as she visualized the dangers and thought about what might have been. Then she collected herself. “Josh … oh, Josh, you know I’m so terribly proud of you …”

“That means the world to —”

But Abigail didn’t let Joshua finish. “Please, listen. I’m also devastated by the risks you just took — once again —”

“Honey, let me explain —”

“And honestly, I’m a little angry —”

“I need to tell you something —”

“No,” Abigail said. “Strike the record. Let me rephrase the question to the witness. Would it surprise you, Colonel Jordan, that I am not just a
little
angry. I am
very
angry —”

“I couldn’t tell you about the mission.”

“Top secret?”

“Absolutely.”

“Clandestine?”

“You’ve got it, Abby.”

“There’s one thing you forget. I’ve been through all this before. Standing by you when you accepted every assignment during your Air Force days, the test-pilot days, the secret recon missions over deadly territories. When you took on every mission, I supported you and waited, praying and hoping you’d come back alive but always wondering if I’d hear the doorbell and see your commanding officer standing at the door with that painful look in his eyes. But you’re out of the service now. You’re a private citizen! If you’d at least told me something I could have prayed for you. But you shut me out!”

“Yes, I’m civilian now, but that doesn’t change everything. It doesn’t change my obligation to do the right thing.”

“Let me suggest something, my darling husband.”

Joshua was quiet. She could see on the screen that he was listening. Really listening. She continued, “Your obligations start with God — I’m with you on that. Your moral obligations to your country, your friends, your own conscience, you know how much I believe in that …”

“I know you do.”

“But somehow —” She could feel her chin starting to tremble and her voice quivering. She had to keep it together. “The next time you’re up there in the wild blue yonder of what’s right, noble, and courageous, remember your wife back here, down on the ground.” Now her voice was breaking up. “And one of these days, let me know where I fit in as I sit here at Hawk’s Nest waiting for you, not knowing when I’ll ever feel your arms around me, looking you in the eyes, really seeing you when we talk. Not just having to settle for a video call. Don’t you realize how difficult this has been? Josh, you’re the love of my life, and I have no idea when we’ll ever be back together again …”

It all came pouring out — all the powerful feelings she had been holding in her heart for the last two years, during their forced separation. She had been trying to be brave about it all, managing Joshua’s defense while the two of them were separated by an ocean, being the glue that kept the family together, and trying to be both parents to Deborah and Cal who were fully adults, of course, but still needed support and guidance. She felt guilty putting any of this on Joshua, but something had just snapped, and she had to let it out.

She could see Joshua nodding on the Allfone screen. There was that strong, square-jawed face she loved, which over the months seemed to look a little older, but his eyes, always keen and brilliant, now seemed to be watering.

“Abby, dear,” he said, “oh, Abby, I’m sorry. I should have given you a hint — some kind of idea what was going on. I didn’t mean to shut you out, baby …”

Abigail fought to keep it together. She didn’t want to make this harder on Joshua. “I miss you, darling.”

After a moment of silence Joshua smiled and changed the subject. “You’re at Hawk’s Nest? I thought you were in New York.”

“I was.”

“Why’d you fly to Colorado?”

“So I could sit here in our big mountain lodge and feel sorry for myself.” Abigail laughed at herself, and Joshua joined in.

Abigail looked at her husband’s wide, handsome grin on the screen, as he gazed back at her. “You’re still gorgeous, darling …”

She waved off the suggestion. “You can’t trust these Allfone video images,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

He laughed louder and tilted his head. “Wait a minute. I know why you’re at Hawk’s Nest. A Roundtable meeting’s scheduled. I’m sure you’ve got more on the agenda than you can handle — as usual.”

She cocked an eyebrow. There was a twinkle in her eye. “I wondered how long it would take you to remember. Yes, the regular meeting. But I’m feeling like we’re the Continental Congress meeting to fend off the Redcoats — except the enemy is our own government, a corrupt president who’s acting like a queen, and who’s trading our national sovereignty for a false promise of international peace and tranquility. And then there’s my husband! Josh, you’re John Adams and Thomas Jefferson all rolled into one. And, darling, you’re absence is sorely missed.”

“You’re sweet, but
way
overexaggerating,” Joshua shot back. “So, who’s showing up?”

“John Gallagher’s here. I think he comes for the home cooking!”

Joshua chuckled. The iconoclastic former FBI anti-terror agent, who had put on a lot of weight since leaving the Bureau, kept assuring everyone he was “thirty days from being in peak physical condition.” That was something all of them were waiting to see.

Abigail ticked off the list of other members: “Our self-made billionaire-entrepreneur, Beverly Rose Cortez,” she said. “I just love that gal. Tender but tough. She’s coming in tomorrow morning. Along with Phil Rankowitz. The rest by videofone.”

“About Phil,” Joshua said, “I hope our resident media guru will address the issue of using Amerinews to run the article about the U.N.’s new secretary-general, Alexander Coliquin.”

“Already have it on the agenda. Didn’t you get the email?”

“Sorry — I must have missed it.” Then he added with a smirk, “I was busy sightseeing in North Korea …”

Abigail tossed him a friendly barb. “See what you miss when you pull one of your super-hero-saves-the-day stunts?”

“Sure, but it goes to show you — ever since I’ve been a man without a country — you’ve been running the Roundtable just fine without me.” Then Joshua dropped the grin. “Hey, I’ve been thinking.”

“Uh oh, that’s dangerous …” Abigail gave a sly smile.

“How about I come home now? Face the legal music. Fly —”

“Right into the flak? Right. Heard all that before. Josh, I thought we had an agreement.”

“We did. But I’m dying here without you.”

“You know I feel the same. But we’ve filed our appeal. Maybe the court will decide that it’s crazy to use that trial order to keep me from leaving the United States while your case is pending.”

“You’re the lawyer, Abby, but to me that seems like a one-in-a-million shot. Besides, it’ll take another year for a ruling. I can’t wait that long.”

She thought for a moment. “I’ve got one more trick up my sleeve,” she said. “I’ve got a lead into the federal prosecutor’s office. I’ve been talking to some former law partners, and I heard that one of the assistant attorney generals in the AG’s office, a guy who was on the team prosecuting you, just quit under strange circumstances. Very sudden. This lawyer — Harley Collingwood — had a reputation for being pretty tough on defendants, but also very ethical and eminently fair. So, you have to ask yourself, why did he up and leave the attorney general’s office?”

“More money in the private sector?”

“Could be. But some rumors indicate otherwise. So, honey, I’m asking you to wait a little longer. I want to see if this Harley Collingwood thing might have something to do with your case. Who knows? What if he quit the DOJ because he discovered their case against you has an ugly, illegal underbelly? Until I get your defense set up, they’ve got a case against you based on seemingly invincible testimony. You and I both know the prosecution’s case is built on a lie, but I have to find
the proof of that lie first, to show that their chief witness is perjuring himself. I just need a little more time.”

“Time? That’s exactly what we don’t have, Abby. I need to be with you if … or more likely, when …” There was silence on both ends of the line now. Abigail knew what he meant. He didn’t have to lay it out for her. They were both keen observers of recent events, and they knew what the Bible said about the signs of His coming. It was too clear now for either of them to deny. They were convinced that the beginning of the end was rushing in like a bullet train. If there ever was a time for them to meet it together, in person, it was now.

“Just a little more time, Josh.”

“Okay, just a little.” Then he added, “I can’t tell you how much I love you and miss you, Abby. And how I need to be near you.”