The Left Behind Collection: All 12 Books (322 page)

“Commander, I want to know what in the world is going on over there.”

“Yes, sir, we—”

“I sent my senior commander all the way from New Babylon to talk directly with your prisoner.”

“And that will happen, sir. I—”

“I don’t appreciate him getting jerked around when you had fair warning and plenty of time to make arrangements.”

“I know. We—”

“I’ll expect a full report transmitted to my office by noon tomorrow.”

“I’ll definitely do that, sir, because it
is
explainable.”

“Is Johnson meeting with Sebastian now?”

“Not quite yet—”

“Even as we speak? Because if not, I want to know why not.”

“There was some mix-up with our local team, sir. They thought they heard—”

“I’ll look for those details tomorrow, Commander, but meanwhile I’m going to assume you’re effecting this meeting.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And not making Johnson come to you.”

“Sir?”

“He’s gone as far as I expect him to have to go. Anywhere he is, is a secure environment, so you have your people get the prisoner to him.”

“Yes, sir. Deputy Commander, could I inform you of some good news?”

“There is no good news until I know Johnson has access to Sebastian.”

“I just wanted you to know that we have located the central underground headquarters in Ptolemaïs and plan to raid it at midnight.”

Chloe watched Socrates from inside the shack until he disappeared, limping down toward the road. Then she tiptoed out, went ninety degrees into the trees, hurried past the Fifty and the DEW, which her quarry had passed some forty feet to his left. She found it no chore to keep up with the lame Socrates.

Chloe held tight to the grip on the Uzi, pulling the strap taut to keep it away from her body and from clacking into the Luger. She turned sideways and mince-stepped the decline, carefully crossing the gravel road. Stopping on the other side, she heard movement in the underbrush, someone heading left, east, hurrying and not worrying about snapping twigs and thrashing through the thick stuff. Chloe squatted and regulated her breathing, gauging direction and distance to keep from following too close and giving herself away.

There was no need for her to step into the overgrowth. She could easily keep pace staying at the side of the road in the soft, silent dirt. The only danger was overtaking her prey and being seen. It had to be Socrates. When he came even with the shack again, though he was below the line of sight from the front door, he stopped, apparently to listen. Hearing nothing must have encouraged him, because now out he came, maybe fifty feet ahead of Chloe and also choosing to stay on the quieter surface next to the road.

Chloe stood stock-still in case he decided to turn around. She couldn’t imagine being seen in the darkness, but who knew what kind of vision the limping, unarmed man might have? Some people could see or sense shapes in the darkness. Mac had proved that. And maybe this character knew the area, would notice a silhouette between trees that should have provided a clear shot to the stars.

Chloe waited until he went around a bend, then hurried to where she could again hear the labored footsteps. She peeled her eyes and saw—or at least imagined—that he was testing the knee, trying to walk more upright, more normal, and not succeeding. Occasionally she heard a grunt or a moan. He was in pain, and he certainly was taking the long way to town.

No, Socrates was going to lead her to George Sebastian. Chloe just knew it. Should she attempt a quiet transmission, let Mac know Hopalong was headed the wrong way? How much of a lead could he get if that took thirty seconds? Mac and Hannah could catch up with her quickly, and they could overtake him in no time.

But Mac was double-checking the shack, and Hannah was outside alone, making sure no ambush was afoot. Chloe would never forgive herself if a needless transmission gave someone an audible target. If Socrates led her right to this lean-to or whatever it was, unless she was seen, she couldn’t be in any danger. If the other three were there—even if Stefanich was there—she’d still have plenty of time to call for the others.

Mac knelt in the cool dampness of the cramped cellar. The single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed irregular shapes on the earthen floor. With his flashlight he tried to determine whether George had been mistreated. It was impossible to tell if those were flecks of blood among the footprints and indecipherable shapes.
It’s where I would terrorize a hostage,
Mac decided.

He shined his light in every corner, flipped off the cellar switch, and was headed upstairs when his phone chirped. Eager to get outside to the rendezvous but hesitant to be on the phone in the open air, he paused on the stairs and flipped it open. Was it his imagination or had he heard a voice from out back? He assumed Hannah would have done her perimeter scan and would be waiting with Chloe by the tree in front.

Mac didn’t dare say anything, so he just listened to the phone.

“Mac?”

It was Chang, but Mac didn’t want to acknowledge. He pressed a button on the keypad.

“Mac? That you?”

He pressed the button longer.

“Okay, you can’t talk, but neither can I until I can confirm it’s you. One beep if the following is true; two if it’s false: After the first book in the New Testament, the next four have exactly the same number of letters in their titles.”

Now Mac for sure heard a voice from the back. Male. Chang’s statement was true, but was it one for true and two for false or the other way around? He hesitated, listening while creeping to the top of the stairs.

“Mac would know this,” Chang said. “One if true, two if—”

Mac pressed one quickly.

“Could have been a lucky guess,” Chang said, and Mac closed his eyes.
Come on!

“You have a contact in a very strategic location. Give me a beep for the number of letters in his sister’s
maiden
name.”

What?
Chang would be so clever at a party. Okay, Chang’s the contact. His sister is Ming Toy. Three. Wait! Maiden name. Same as Chang’s. Wong. Four. Mac punched them quickly, now peeking out of the darkened shack toward the back. He could see nothing.

“Okay, Mac, right. Now listen. Talked to Stefanich as Konrad. He’s going to make his guys bring Sebastian to you, so stay put but don’t waste time. He claims they’ve found the underground headquarters and will raid it at midnight. I don’t have any numbers on the Co-op people there. Do you? One if yes, two if no.”

Mac pressed twice.

“I don’t even know that they have phones. Can you send somebody to help? One if—”

Mac beeped once.

“Are you in immediate danger?”

Mac beeped twice.

“Okay, so you’re somewhere where you can’t talk. GPS shows you still where I talked to you last. Someone there with you?”

Twice.

“Outside?”

Once.

“See them?”

Twice.

“Okay, you hear them. Have you got personnel outside?”

Once.

“Both?”

Once.

“I’ll let you go. You want me to stay on?”

Twice.

“Check in when you’re clear. I want to know we’re doing something for the Co-op there.”

Mac put his phone away and crept outside. Half a dozen armed Peacekeepers milled about by the car.

“I say we take it. We’ve hiked for hours.”

“No keys.”

“So hot-wire it.”

“Come on! Supposed to be only five hundred more meters.”

The Peacekeepers headed east. Mac circled around to the front.
So Stefanich sent backup. Wonder if that’s all of ’em?

Neither Hannah nor Chloe was by the tree. Mac made a noise through his teeth, in case they were close by. Nothing. He knelt in the darkness. The Fifty was in place. The DEW was gone.

It felt to George as if Aristotle had turned left onto the road and driven east for about twenty minutes before pulling off to the side and waiting. He had once been able to keep track of the passage of time, but now he had to fight sleep. If he had to guess, George would have said they sat, not moving, for more than an hour. But neither would it have surprised him if it were actually twice that long.

Finally Aristotle said, “What do you think?”

“We could have gone long ago,” Elena said. “The place clears out early, and there aren’t that many people there anymore anyway.”

“Plato?”

“Yes, go! We’ve got to get back up here before long.”

It seemed to George that they eventually made their way out of the woods and off the gravel road to a main road and were heading south. Then they went east, and he had the sense, from ambiance and sound, that they were in a populated area, maybe a town.

“Get him out of sight,” Aristotle said a few minutes later.

Plato reached and grabbed George by the right shoulder and pulled him over to where his head now lay in the big man’s lap.

Aristotle soon slowed and seemed to be parking.

“No, no!” Plato said. “Around back.”

Once they finally stopped and parked, Elena said, “I’ll see if we’re clear.” George felt a cramp in his lower back but could do nothing about it. She returned and got back in the Jeep, shutting the door. “About twenty minutes,” she said.

“You got it?” Aristotle said. “Let me see it.”

“And it goes where?”

“About a foot below the top of the right door.”

“I never noticed before.”

“Can I sit him up?” Plato said.

“Better wait.”

Chloe stopped fifty feet in back of Socrates and guessed they were close to five hundred meters from the shack. He was bent over, hands on his thighs, breathing heavily. His pace had slowed the last hundred meters or so, and maybe he was trying to come up with an approach to his comrades that would gain him sympathy rather than hostility.

She was watching him carefully when she froze at the sound of footsteps on the gravel. Several. Not hurrying. Not sneaking. Just coming. She backed into the underbrush about ten feet off the road and knelt, the knees of her camouflage pants immediately soaked through and cold. She fought the temptation to hold her breath, fearing she would exhale right when whoever was behind her came by. Chloe knew it couldn’t be Mac and Hannah. There were too many.

She was out of sight of Socrates now and hated not knowing whether he was off again. If he was, he would find his team without her knowing where. And here came half a dozen Peacekeepers, weapons in hand. They were in no hurry, chatting, a couple smoking. Chloe tried to make it make sense. They seemed to have an idea where they were going. Same spot? She could follow them, and maybe more easily because of the noise they made.

They were ten feet past her, and she would wait another thirty seconds before venturing out. Her walkie-talkie gave two quick, staticky squawks, startling her. The Peacekeepers kept walking and talking, but she panicked. Though they hadn’t heard the sounds, if someone started talking to her, they’d hear that.

She reached in her pocket to turn off the radio, but in feeling for the right knob turned it up. Frantic to shut it off, she lurched, lost her balance, and flopped onto her seat. “Johnson or Irene, come in, please.”

Too loud!

Chloe leaped to her feet, yanked out the radio, squeezed the transmit button twice, shut it off, and set herself, readying the Uzi. The Peacekeepers had stopped and now crept her way.

Mac pulled out his radio and whispered, “Johnson here, Jinnah. What’s your ten-twenty?”

“One hundred yards northeast of rendezvous point.”