Edge of Apocalypse (18 page)

"Could you navigate using only the stars? I mean, if you had to?"

"We were taught to do that in flight school. I'd like to think I still could."

Then Joshua turned toward his wife with a funny look on his face. "After all the years we've spent sitting on this porch looking up at the stars, why is this the first time you've ever asked me that?"

Abigail had to think for a moment. Then she answered with a smile. "I don't know. Just occurred to me, that's all."

Then after a beat she added another thought. "Astrologers say our lives are wrapped up in the stars. Which I think is a bunch of malarkey. But I do think that God set the stars in the sky for a reason. Don't you?"

"And that reason would be...?"

She took a second before she answered. "Well, the Bible says the heavens declare the glory of God..."

"Sounds reasonable."

"So, then you agree with the Bible?"

"No, I'm not saying that. Not exactly."

"Then what?" she asked, probing a little further.

"Just that when you say it, it always sounds reasonable. And I know better than to debate with a lawyer!"

She had to chuckle at his dodge. Then she continued. "Anyway, you'd be surprised at the number of grown people I run into who still read their horoscopes every day. Darley said she does."

"How are things with her?"

"She's having a harder time than I thought."

Abigail was struggling over how much to tell her husband, but she needed to share this with her soul mate. "Something came up today when we had lunch."

"From Darley?"

"Yeah. Some personal stuff."

"Like what?"

"She's still grieving over Jimmy."

"I think about Fort and Darley losing their son like that. Bam, out of nowhere. Just when Jimmy was beginning his life as a man. I don't think a parent ever gets over something like that."

Then Joshua screwed the cap back onto his water bottle and prodded a little. "You said it was related..."

Abigail decided just to lay it all out. Her husband needed to hear it. Not only because Darley and Fort were friends, but because Joshua and Fort worked so closely together with the Roundtable.

"Darley really struggled with guilt after Jimmy's death. She couldn't let go of the idea that there was something she should have done to protect him. Her doctor prescribed an anti-anxiety medication because she was having such a hard time sleeping. First it was just one pill; then that wasn't enough and she would take another. Then she decided she needed more. So she went doctor shopping. To three separate doctors. Now she's constantly dosing on valium. This has been going on since her son's death. Josh, she came right out and admitted she's addicted to prescription drugs. She says she can't get through the day without taking something."

"Oh, boy. Poor Darley. Does Fort know?"

"Not exactly. Although it may be what the law calls deliberate indifference."

"You make it sound like he doesn't care."

"No, just the opposite. Maybe he cares too much."

"I don't follow..."

"I think people who deeply love another person are naturally going to think the best of them, not the worst. Fort may be seeing a lot of clues but unconsciously turning a blind eye. He really doesn't want to picture his wife as an addict. Who would?"

"So, what did you tell her?"

"I offered to help. Get her into a rehab place maybe. And I told her to tell her husband. He has a right to know, and she needs his support."

Joshua looked intently at his wife. He took her hands, both of them, and kissed them. "Thank goodness she's got you for a friend. You're outstanding, Abby. Really."

She leaned over and put a long, lingering kiss on his lips. "And you're an incredible man."

Then Joshua added, "If there's anything I can do to help, let me know."

"Thanks, Josh."

Then she brightened up and focused on her husband's project. "So, you finish up the Roundtable tomorrow?"

"Yep. We're going to focus on our media project. This is really going to be big. We're pulling out all the stops. Abby, this country will be shaken to its core."

"I'll be praying for your new venture. This is the AmeriNews project, right?"

"Exactly."

"So, after you wrap up tomorrow, then maybe you and I and Deborah can do some trail riding the next day?"

"Right...uh, oh..."

"Uh, oh what, dear?" Abigail was already translating the unspoken part of her husband's reply.

"I just remembered I am supposed to shoot eighteen holes with Rocky Bridger."

"Well, you could get up early, be the first to tee off, and still be back here in time for at least a half-day of riding with us. Right?"

He smirked. "Yeah. That's doable. I can take orders. I was a good Air Force officer. Flight plan modified by cencom."

"You are sooo overly dramatic." She grinned with a twinkle in her eye.

Then there were a few moments of stillness, where the only thing that could be heard was the faraway rushing of the river down in the valley. Abigail was the first to break the silence.

"So, any plans in the evening while we're staying here?"

"Nothing, except enjoying the lack of plans. One of these nights I need to review some acquisition and investment data. See how we're doing."

Then he caught on.

"You've got something in mind, don't you?"

"Actually, I do."

"What is it?"

"When we get back to New York, Pastor Paul Campbell is doing a special series of evening talks over at Eternity Church."

Joshua's face didn't flinch, but Abigail could hear the gears moving in his head.

"I know what you're thinking," she said.

Joshua laughed. "You sure?"

"When you have that look on your face, yeah. You're thinking, 'Wife, this is the two hundredth time you've invited me to church. And I've gone with you a couple times. Just two months ago. But I will have so much that I need to follow up on after the Roundtable when we get back to New York.'"

"Pretty close."

"But this is different. I think this series of messages are more for you than for me. The topic is right up your alley. Really."

"Well-played, madam lawyer. So I'm the one who'll regret it if I don't go..."

"Absolutely. And if you do go, I think you'll be surprised. Actually, I think it fits into what you are doing with the Roundtable..."

She had his attention.

"You've got my curiosity aroused. At least tell me what this is all about."

"Better than that, I'll let you read the brochure I got from Paul. It tells all about it."

"Okay, I'll read it. But no promises..."

TWENTY-EIGHT

Moscow

Hamad Katchi threaded his way down a back alley littered with broken bottles and scraps of trash. It was right around midnight. For most people, in that particular neighborhood and at that particular time of night, it would be a hair-raising experience.

But not for Katchi. He wasn't afraid of the Russian mobsters who controlled that part of town. Many of them had done business with Katchi in the illegal arms trade. And for those who hadn't, they had certainly heard of him.

Over the years, Katchi had risen to the level of an international celebrity in the underworld. Who would have thought a "conversion" to global peace would give him the ability to continue to secretly negotiate with national leaders behind the cloak of legitimacy. This was a man no one wanted to cross.

The Pakistani weapons master turned a corner and walked another fifty feet toward a rustic shop with the word
on the sign out front: "espresso cafe." The storefront was dark, and a sign hanging in the window said "Closed." Katchi knew he was at the right place.

Cautiously he looked up and down the street, assuring himself that it was empty; then he opened the door and walked in. The cafe was empty, the chairs had been stacked up for the day, and the lights in the main dining area were out. But a soft light from the back room cast a glow through the darkened shop. Katchi walked into a small office and closed the door.

A burley man in a sloppy-looking suit and smoking a Cuban cigar sat in the corner next to a small wooden table. He slowly tapped the end of his cigar with his ring finger, causing ashes to carelessly fall to the ground, all the while eyeing Katchi as he entered the room.

"Good to see you again, Vlad," Katchi began.

The other man, Vlad Levko, was a former KGB agent and now an aging member of the Russian Federation's newest spy agency, the FSB. He smiled and motioned toward a bottle of vodka flanked by two shot glasses. Katchi shook his head no. Levko helped himself anyway, filled up a shot, and then tossed it down.

Levko didn't waste time on preliminaries. "What are we going to do, you and I, about our deal?"

"I was hopeful that we could negotiate a price," Katchi responded.

"And I assume you have authority to speak on behalf of Mr. Demas?"

"I didn't come all the way to Moscow for your vodka."

"Okay, but there is a slight adjustment since we talked last."

Katchi was prepared for some last-minute treachery from the Russians. What he was not prepared for was a deal breaker.

Levko took another draw on his cigar before proceeding. "We want the exclusive rights to the RTS. We don't want the system being sold to our competitors."

"That's not an adjustment, Levko--that's a complete overhaul. You should have informed me before I wasted a trip."

"And you should have anticipated that we would want to be the sole proprietors of this technology. Any advantage the RTS system would bring us diminishes the moment the technology is shared with any other government."

Katchi wasn't surprised, not really. As a result of the breakup of the Soviet empire decades ago, Russia's military domination had weakened. So in recent years the Russians were making a mad dash to rebuild to superpower status but still had a long way to go. They were being threatened from all sides, and if they were to have any hope of being able to fund their military build-up, they needed to protect their most prized possession--the vast oil fields that were their major source of revenue.

Katchi replied, "What you are asking is going to be a very hard sell to Demas."

"We are, of course, prepared to compensate you for exclusivity. You are, however, going to have to guarantee that you will be able to deliver all the necessary information regarding the details of the RTS laserreversal protocol to make it worth our while."

Hamad Katchi casually responded without blinking an eye. "That won't be a problem."

"And we don't want to wait until next year for delivery. You can understand that."

"We expect to be in possession of the RTS any day now."

"One more thing. We cannot under any circumstance be traced back to your efforts to obtain the RTS design. Are we clear about that? We are not looking for a world war with the United States. At least not yet. Can you guarantee that you will keep us out of the spotlight?"

"That won't be a problem. In the meantime, I suggest you increase the U.S. allotment of oil above what you are currently offering, to make it look like you're helping to prop them up economically. You will continue to appear like a friend, and the U.S. does not become suspicious."

Levko was interested now in hearing the rest of the story. He poured himself another shot, tossed it back, and motioned for Katchi to proceed.

Katchi continued eagerly, "We have someone getting the RTS for us who is world-class. The best there is. Maybe the best there ever was. I am certain he will keep all of us out of the spotlight."

But then Katchi caught himself. Had he said too much? He did not want the Russian spy-masters to know whom they had hired for this project. The Russians had long memories. Atta Zimler's execution of three of their top agents had left a festering sore.

"This man you are using, is it anybody I would know?" Levko asked nonchalantly.

"A gentleman from South America. Well, maybe
gentleman
isn't the right word. He's been operating under radar for many years. He's excellent for this sort of thing."

After Katchi's lie, he studied Levko to see if he bought it. Vlad was simply smiling back at him and pouring himself yet another shot.

Katchi concluded as he rose to leave, "You are never going to reach retirement, my friend, if you keep up your drinking..."

"In our business, retirement is never guaranteed. Isn't that right, Hamad?"

Just before exiting the cafe's back room, Katchi added almost offhandedly, "For exclusive possession of the RTS design, you will have to pay double."

Levko didn't flinch. Russia's oil reserves were at an all-time high. And the Federation had successfully taken control of all private oil production. Another billion dollars was no big deal.

"Be safe, my friend," Vlad Levko muttered to Katchi as he made his way through the dim cafe and out onto the street. "The world can be a dangerous place."

TWENTY-NINE

Telling the truth had become a risky business.

For years, America's digital-based news belonged to the white-knuckled grip of a handful of corporate moguls, and they were not going to let go easily. Everyone in the Roundtable knew that. All the more reason, they figured, for their revolution to be launched immediately.