The 13: Fall (11 page)

There really wasn’t any good explanation for how he’d found himself here. It all seemed surreal. He had been an Army Ranger, before. And if there’s one thing that Ranger school had taught him, it was that everything had an explanation. There was no such thing as coincidence, or chance. Strangely, his current role as a pastor had affirmed that way of thinking. Therefore, no coincidence. No chance. And that made him feel all the more uneasy about what was going on here. He had shared his concerns with Grant, who had as much as agreed with him. But there was the idea that maybe they could somehow stop what this Prophet was warning them about. Perhaps, in His providence, God was using them to bring about some much-needed change.

“I need to know where Keene and Taylor are leaving from,” Boz said to the president as he reentered the room.

President Grant crinkled his brow. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry,” Boz said, realizing that he had started in the middle of the conversation. “Keene and Taylor are leaving for Chicago. I need to go with them. Where would they be leaving from?”

President Grant nodded and picked up the phone.

“Director Jennings…. I’m fine, thank you. I need some information, if you would be so kind…. Thank you. Mr. Keene is leaving for Chicago, I understand…. Yes, I would like to know where from…. Thank you.”

President Grant placed the receiver back in its cradle and smiled at his friend. “Being the president does have its perks every now and again.”

Boz smiled, knowing that his friend was a very humble man who would never use his office for personal gain. Even so, he had to agree with him. It did have its advantages.

“Reagan National,” President Grant said. “Private terminal, hangar three. Gulf Stream-5. They’re leaving in less than an hour.”

“Then I’ll bid you good day, Mr. President.”

“I’ll have one of my detail take you there. You’ll be there when they arrive.”

“Thanks. That’s probably not a bad idea, seeing how they don’t know I’m coming.” He smiled.

Keene pulled the Pathfinder through the security gate, flashed his ID and made his way to the newly added private hangars at Reagan National. The airport had been under reconstruction for more than a decade and now was fully operational. The big hangar’s doors were swinging open as Keene pulled the truck over to the side and parked. He and Taylor jumped out and walked to the waiting Gulf Stream jet. He was not at all happy at what he saw standing at the top of the stairs.

“Hello!” Boz shouted over the whining of the jet engines. “Good to see you again!”

Keene pushed his way past the man and threw his bag onto one of the empty couches that lined the side of the midsized jet.

“What are you doing here?” Keene asked.

“Well, unless I’m mistaken,” Boz said, “I’m going to Chicago with you.”

“And how, exactly, did you come to find out where we are going?” Keene shot a cross look at Taylor, who shifted her eyes away.

“You could say I’m very resourceful, Mr. Keene,” Boz answered.

Keene fumed. Taylor must have talked to the man and told him where they were headed.

The personal flight attendant for the aircraft secured the door and knocked on the door to the cockpit to let the pilots know they were ready. Keene moved past her and took his seat beside Taylor. He leaned over and whispered in her ear.

“You do this to me again, I don’t care what the president says, I’ll be working this on my own. We clear?”

He pulled back and gave her an icy stare. Impressively, she didn’t budge. Rather, she matched his glare with one of her own. And leaned over to reply.

“You threaten me again, Keene, and I’ll get out my laptop and personally make sure that every agency in the world has you on their number-one priority list. Are
we
clear?”

The plane rocked back and forth as it made its way out onto the runway. Keene and Taylor sat back in their chairs, avoiding each other’s gaze. Boz, who had been in the back, came up front and sat down in the chair facing them. He had some bottled water in his hands and tossed one to each of them, as he sat down and buckled up.

“Make sure you drink plenty. Chicago’s cold and dry. And we’re going to be flying at forty thousand feet. Wanna make sure we’re plenty hydrated, in case we need to chase someone down.”

Keene huffed to himself.

“What’s that, Mr. Keene? Did you say something?” Boz asked.

Keene just looked at the man and twisted the cap off his water. “Thanks, chapy.”

Aside from the roar of the engines, the cabin was silent. No one spoke as the plane took off and climbed altitude. After five minutes, the captain came on the loudspeaker and announced they were at cruising height.

Taylor unbuckled her belt and stood up.

“I’m gonna go freshen up. Been a long morning.”

She made her way back to the rear of the plane and into the lavatory, leaving Keene and Boz to themselves. Several seconds passed before either spoke.

“So, chapy, what’s an ex-Ranger like you doing in a place like this?”

Boz smiled. Keene tried to get a read on him, but there was nothing.

“Haven’t been called that in a while,” Boz said. “Guys in my old unit used to call me that. Even before I went into the pastorate.”

“Yeah,” Keene said, “we used to call all you Bible-thumper guys chapy.”

“Bible thumper. Interesting,” Boz nodded. “So these guys, these
Bible thumpers
… Ever see any of them running around beating on their Bible?”

“What?”

“I mean, you call us Bible thumpers. Ever see anyone running around beating on their Bible? You know … smacking it around?”

Keene chuckled. “Nothing personal. It’s just an expression.”

“You think your president is a
Bible thumper
?”

“Look,” Keene said, “the president is my commander in chief. What he does on his own personal time is his business. It’s just a joke. Lighten up.”

“Jon—you mind if I call you Jon?”

Keene shrugged. “Whatever you like. Mind if I call you chapy?”

“Not at all,” Boz said. “I’m not here to watch over your every move. I’m here because your commander in chief asked me to help out. Regardless of what you think, I’m fully capable of taking care of myself. And the two of you if need be, for that matter.”

Keene let that hang there for a moment. The guy was a former Ranger. He was Special Ops. And so it wasn’t a matter of whether or not the guy could handle himself. It was a matter of why he was here in the first place.

“Let me ask you something,” Keene said.

Boz nodded.

“Why
are
you here? I mean, what do I need you for?”

Boz smiled. “I’d like to think that I’m here for several reasons. The first of which is probably you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not what you think. We can talk about that later. Right now, you need to know that I, and the president, think that this is not as black and white as you think it is. And I know you’re probably going to think I’m crazy, or he’s crazy, but I’m not convinced this guy is a terrorist.”

“Then what is he?” Keene asked.

“We’ll just have to wait and see,” Boz said. “But right now, I have insight into how this guy thinks. And if you’re going to track him effectively, you need me.”

“And why do you have insight into this nut job? You a nut job, too?”

“You married?”

“Was. What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Yeah, I know about your first wife. I meant now. Married? Anyone special in your life?”

Keene sat up straight. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. He didn’t bring up the past. “No. Not married.”

“It’s hard, isn’t it?” Boz asked.

“What’s that?”

“Losing a wife like that. I’m sorry.”

Keene was now starting to get agitated. “Nothing to be sorry about. She was killed by a terrorist.”

“Uh-huh,” Boz said.

“And now I hunt down terrorists and kill them back,” Keene said. “It’s that simple.”

“Is that why you joined the CIA after you left your unit?”

Okay
, Keene thought,
now this guy is really starting to make me mad.
“You trying to shrink me, chapy?”

“Shrink you?” Boz laughed.

“Yeah, you know. Like a psychiatrist, a shrink?”

“Oh.” Boz chuckled. “No, I’m not trying to
shrink
you. Just trying to get to know you.”

“Well, don’t,” Keene snapped. “I don’t live in the past.”

“Fair enough. You and I actually have a lot in common. I don’t live in the past either. Doesn’t do you any good.”

“Exactly.”

“You know I lost a wife, too?”

Keene raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah. And my daughter. Car accident.”

“I’m sorry.” Keene had a moment of remorse.

“Thanks.” Boz finally spoke. “It was an accident. Rainy night, wet roads, bad brakes.”

“Yes, it’s hard,” Keene said.

“I used to be just like you. A hard, angry man.”

“You don’t know me.”

Boz leaned forward, his eyes icy, his face expressionless. He pointed his finger.

“Let me tell you something,” Boz said in a tone completely changed. “You think you’re a bad man. You think you’re tough. But I’ve got news for you, kid. Your Bosnia mission, I prepped that. That six-month stint you did in Tehran, you were there because I laid the groundwork ten years before. You think that just because you lost four men in Karbala—because you should’ve seen it coming—makes you some kind of special, horrible person? Those men you lost … they knew the risk. And yeah, I know you think you messed up. You could’ve pulled back earlier. But the job wasn’t done. And you don’t leave the job undone! But you’re not the only team leader to ever lose men. We’ve all lost men. So don’t sit there and dishonor their sacrifice by acting like their deaths were meaningless. You think you’ve got the market cornered on vengeance and anger? I traveled that road for a long time, kid. And I can tell you that the only place it’s going to lead you is down a deep, dark hole.”

Keene’s eyes widened.

“Yeah, that’s right. I know you. I know all about you, because I was you. I was you before you even knew who
you
were. I wasted a good part of my life trying to fix things that I had no control over. So don’t sit there with that sanctimonious smirk on your face thinking some middle-aged
chapy
is cramping your style by being here. Neither one of us knows for sure what we’re walking into. And if there’s anything we can do to stop it, then I can promise you I’ll do whatever it takes to make that happen. But if I’m right and we can’t, then we need to find this Prophet and get some serious information out of him.”

Keene hadn’t been put in his place like that since Basic Underwater Demolition school. And he didn’t much like it, but this chapy was no joke. He’d seen that look before. You don’t mess with that look. That look can get you killed. He knew. ‘Cause he’d given that same look to many unfortunate souls in his time with the unit.

“So if there’s nothing we can do to stop this coming attack, as you say, then why bother to find him?”

“I know this will sound like lunacy to you,” Boz said, appearing to return to his normal state of calm, “but I believe that this Prophet may actually be real.”

Keene didn’t know what to say. Everything in him wanted to call his boss and the president and tell them that this chapy guy was a quack. But then there was the respect he had for the man’s military record. He couldn’t just dismiss it. And as bad as he hated to admit it, there was something niggling at the back of his brain telling him there was more to this than met the eye.

“And if he’s real,” Boz continued, “then it won’t be an isolated event.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because. When God allowed something like this to happen to a nation in the Bible, namely, Israel, it wasn’t just a single attack.”

“How do you mean?” Keene asked.

“I mean, God would give the entire nation over to another nation. We need to find him, assure him we’re not going to
kill
him, and then find out what he knows. Before we completely lose our country.”

   CHAPTER 18