Assassins: Assignment: Jerusalem, Target: Antichrist

  Z nodded, his eyes on the TV again. “These smokin’ horses are leavin’ bodies everywhere. You seen ’em suckers?”

  “Not yet. Sound scary.”

  “Yep. ’Salmost too easy, though. All I got to do is get the wallets before the GC gets the body. Gives people a lot more to choose from.”

  “This guy,” Buck said, putting an open folder at the top of the stack and handing it to Z.

  Z tossed the extras behind the couch and studied the file as he set up his camera. Buck sat before a plain blue background and posed for straight-ons and profiles. “Thought of you when I seen him,” Z said. “Driver’s license, passport, citizen’s card, anything else?”

  “Yeah, make me a card-carrying member of Enigma Babylon Faith. And an organ donor. Why not?”

  “Can do. Fast-track?”

  “Couple of days?” Buck said.

  “Easy.”

  By the time Buck found Zeke and exited through the garage, he knew Z was plying his trade under a magnifying light in the other room. The next time Buck ventured out in public, he would carry authentic-looking, well-used identification documents with his new face in place of that of the deceased Greg North.

  Mac had never enjoyed such medical attention. While Johannesburg seemed in disarray, thousands of citizens dead or dying, Fortunato’s clout opened every door. Regional GC Peacekeeping Forces swept in on Carpathia’s own authority and took charge of Rehoboth’s palace. He was discovered dead in his office, along with dozens more of his staff.

  Mac and Abdullah had been examined and prepped at the airport infirmary, then transported to the palace for surgery. Leon told them, “You’ll also hear that Rehoboth’s family was wiped out by the smoke and fire plague. But the smell of GC gunfire may still hang in the air.”

  As Mac and Abdullah were wheeled into the palace, the bodies of Rehoboth’s various families were wheeled out. “The news will be clear that Rehoboth failed in an assassination attempt, but we will likely explain the family deaths as plague related. Our enemies will know the truth.”

  “And Ngumo?” Mac asked.

  “Oh, dead, of course. And his secretary, as you said. Rehoboth masterminded that and engineered it from his office. Ngumo was eliminated, Rehoboth’s impostor/assassins were put in place, and Rehoboth was ready to take over once His Excellency was dead.”

  Mac underwent several hours of surgery by a hand specialist, had major work done on his shoulder, and doctors also redressed his scalp and ear wounds. After several hours of anesthetized sleep, he awoke on his left side, facing Abdullah’s bed. His first officer’s leg was bandaged and elevated. Abdullah pointed to a jar on his bedstand. It contained a mangled bullet that had been dug from his quadriceps.

  “Much damage,” Abdullah said. “But not life threatening.”

  Mac’s heavily bandaged shoulder was still numb. His right hand, thickly gauze-wrapped and shaped like a gun, rested on his side.

  A GC doctor, a native of India, entered the recovery room. “I was told you were waking,” he said. “Successful surgery on three major areas. Your head was the least of it and will heal first. The shoulder will have considerable scarring, but only bullet fragments needed to be removed, and there was no structural damage. You will feel nerve numbness and may have limited mobility. Your hand was saved, fingers intact. This will cause you much discomfort for many weeks, and you will likely require therapy to learn to use it. The ring and middle fingers will be stationary and stiff. We have curved them into a permanent position. The little finger will have no use. You may get limited use from the index finger, but no promises. The thumb will not bend.”

  “If I can grip the controls with one finger, poke buttons, and flip switches, I can fly again,” Mac said.

  “I agree,” the doctor said. “You were most fortunate.”

  Fortunato visited. “You will be pleased to know that you both will be receiving the highest award for bravery given by the Global Community,” he said. “The Golden Circle, the potentate’s prize for valor, will be presented by His Excellency himself as thanks for saving my life.”

  Neither Mac nor Abdullah responded.

  “Well, I know you’re pleased and that only your modesty prohibits you from feeling worthy. Now rest. You will recuperate and rehabilitate here as long as necessary, then you will be transported to New Babylon by your former first officer in the new Global One.”

  “How long will it take to build that?” Mac asked, knowing Fortunato had no clue how long it took to manufacture an airplane.

  “It will be painted tomorrow,” he said. “Peter the Second has graciously consented to make it a gift to His Excellency. Affairs of state will not be interrupted by this dark episode. The new regional potentate of the U.S. of Africa—a loyalist handpicked by Potentate Carpathia himself—will be installed within the week.”

  Buck drove home with a vehicle full of supplies, a full tank of gas, and a preoccupation about Mac and Abdullah. The radio was full of news of the insurrection and death of Bindura Rehoboth. GC casualties had included a cook and two aides, but accounts of the destruction of Global Community One left Buck wondering. He called home, pleased to discover that Rayford had heard from David and that their compatriots were worse for wear but alive.

  A week later David and Annie sat in the Personnel office at the Global Community palace. The personnel director held David’s memo. “So the bottom line, Mr. Hassid, is that you take responsibility for Ms. Christopher’s breach of procedure protocol?”

  David nodded. “I should have told her something that basic.”

  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Why is it the department head’s responsibility when the subordinate has a procedure manual?”

  David shifted. “Annie—Ms. Christopher—may have been distracted by a romantic interest on the part of a coworker.”

  The director looked over the top of his glasses. “Really,” he said, more statement than question. “That hardly excuses the violation. Are you interested in pursuing this relationship, Ms. Christopher?”

  “Very much.”

  “And this coworker is in your department?”

  “You’re looking at him,” David said.

  “Brilliant. Well, look. . . . Ms. Christopher’s file shows a list of minor offenses, insubordination and the like. But I’ll waive the usual lowering of a grade level for this kind of a breach, provided she allows me to reassign her where she can be most profitable.”

  She hesitated. “And where might that be?”

  “Administrative branch. This crisis has cost us more than a dozen analysts. Your profile shows you would excel.”

  “What does it entail?”

  He flipped a page and mumbled as he read: “Administrative branch, chain of command: Potentate, Supreme Commander, Director of Intelligence, Analysis Department Director, Employee. Major duties and responsibilities: examining and interpreting data from sources not sympathetic to the Global blah, blah, blah. Intelligence Analyst, yes or no?”

  “Yes.”

  “And try not to lock yourself in the office.”

  As soon as they were out of the Personnel office, David took her hand. He felt such freedom! Then he saw Leon Fortunato stride toward the elevator with Peter the Second barking at him from behind.

  “I don’t want a face-to-face with you, Leon.”

  Fortunato pushed the button and turned on him. “Supreme Commander to you, Peter.”

  “Then do me the courtesy of using my—”

  “I will if you will,” Leon said.

  “All right, Commander! But I’ll not have Carpathia appropriating my—”

  “His Excel—”

  “All right! But he must answer to me if he’s going to abscond with my aircraft and—”

  As they boarded the elevator Leon said, “If you think the potentate of the Global Community would ever answer to you . . .”

  “I want to hear this one,” David said. “I’ll call you, Annie.”

  “Be careful,” she said.
>
  David sprinted to his quarters, locked the door, and called up on his computer the bug in Fortunato’s office. Peter II was in mid-sentence:

  “. . . refuse to sit when this is not where I want to be.”

  “It’s as close as you’re going to get.”

  “Why does His Excellency duck me, Commander? You tell the world I offered my plane, which I might have been happy to do. But I was not consulted, not given a chance to—”

  “Everything you have, you have because of the potentate. Do you think Enigma Babylon Faith is independent of the Global Community? Do you think you report other than to His Excellency?”

  “I demand to see him this instant!”

  “You demand? You demand of me? I am the gatekeeper, Supreme Pontiff. You are denied access, refused an audience with His Excellency. Do you understand?”

  “I swear to you, Leon, you’ll regret insulting me this way.”

  “I have asked you not to call me—”

  “I will call you anything I please. You sit here in artificial authority not because of any following or accomplishments, but because you have mastered the art of kissing up to the boss. Well, I don’t kiss up, and I will be heard.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Maybe you will,” Leon said. “But not today.”

  David heard heavy footsteps and a door slam. Then Leon’s voice. “Margaret?”

  Over the intercom: “Yes, sir?”

  “See if the potentate has a moment. You may tell him who just stormed out of here.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  David switched to Carpathia’s office and listened in on the exchange. His secretary had passed along the message from Fortunato’s. “What does he want?” Carpathia asked.

  “She says he just had a meeting with the supreme pontiff.”

  “Invite him up.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Mac was up and walking long before Abdullah and was eager to get back to New Babylon. Difficult as his job was, therapy had been no respite. He might have otherwise felt pampered in the Johannesburg palace, but his injuries negated any rest. Between painkillers his body was afire. He requested doses only large enough to take the edge off. The last thing he wanted was an addiction to pills.

  Mac was disgusted with himself for two gaffes. He had hollered over the air that believers were on board Global One. Fortunately Dwayne Tuttle, the erstwhile “Dart,” had covered for him. But Mac had also tossed Leon Fortunato, of all people, his secure phone.

  It was nearly twice as heavy as a normal cell phone, packed with so much secure technology. Leon hadn’t seemed to notice, but what if someone had called Mac while Leon had the phone? If they didn’t recognize Leon’s voice or had less than perfect reception, they could have compromised the whole Trib Force.

  What troubled Mac was that neither lapse was a result of panic or desperation; both were due to lack of faith. He sincerely believed they were not going to survive the onslaught, and thus, what was the difference?

  Fortunately, he had been wise in his selection of a new first officer. Abdullah had saved the day with the phone. Mac had awakened with a start late the first night during his recovery. He shook Abdullah awake. “Leon has my phone,” he said. “One call from the wrong person and we’re history.”

  “Sleep well, my friend,” Abdullah said. “Your roommate is a pickpocket.”

  “Come again?”

  “When you and Leon were helping me into the terminal, I retrieved your phone from his pocket.”

  “That’s a heavy phone. Why didn’t he notice?”

  “He was scared to death. I picked my spot. The phone is in my possession.”

  “What time is it?”

  Abdullah checked his watch. “Two in the morning.”

  “What time in the States?”

  “They are nine hours behind us when we are in New Babylon. Eight here.”

  “Let me have that phone.”

  Mac called Rayford and filled him in on the Tuttles, who had disappeared shortly after delivering Mac and Abdullah to the infirmary. “I didn’t even get a chance to tell them how connected we were to the co-op,” Mac said, “but your daughter is surely aware of them.”

  Rayford found Chloe was aware of the Tuttles. “They’re going to handle a huge South Sea area for us,” she said. “That they were close enough to hear Mac’s Mayday is nothing short of a miracle.”

  “It’s a contact straight from God,” Rayford said. “If you can spare them, I need them to get me to Europe.”

  “Why don’t you fly yourself, Dad?”

  “I don’t want to fly alone and then try to be at my best incognito. I’d share the flying with Dwayne. We can take his Super J or the Gulfstream.”

  “Do you know where you’re going?”

  “Beauregard Hanson is going to tell me, next time he shows up at Palwaukee. T is going to keep him there under some pretense, I’m going to wave a little cash under his nose, and he’s going to sing. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  David Hassid sat transfixed before his computer, earplug in, listening to Carpathia and Fortunato.

  “Leon, you must not feel obligated to kiss my ring every time you come into my presence. I appreciate it in public, but—”

  “Begging your pardon, Excellency, but—”

  “And you must also feel the freedom to address me informally in private. We go back a long way and—”

  “Oh, but I could not. Not now. Not after all I have witnessed and experienced. You must understand, Potentate, that I do not do these things from any other motive than genuine devotion. I believe you to be inspired, sir, and while it is the highest honor that you consider me enough of a friend to call me by name, forgive me if I cannot reciprocate.”

  “Very well, then, Leon. Now tell me about your encounter with the man who would be king.”

  David listened as Fortunato recounted the conversation. Carpathia was silent a moment. Then, “Peter does not know, does he? He does not have any idea that I knew of his alliance with Rehoboth. He believes he can divide me from my regional potentates and conquer me.”

  “I’m sure that’s what he believes, Excellency.”

  “What a fool!” Carpathia said.

  “Shall we let him lead us to another subversive or two, or has his time come?”

  David heard movement, as if Carpathia had stood. His voice quality had changed, so David assumed he was pacing. “I nearly lost patience with you months ago when he had not been eliminated. But in the end there was benefit. Not only did he lead us to Rehoboth, a recent communiqué from him proved most enlightening and may have bearing on our two friends to the south.”

  “The Jerusalem Twosome?”

  “The same. You like that term, do you not?”

  “Genius, sir. Only you . . .”

  “I had asked him to put his scholars on all the mysterious manuscripts from the past, from Nostradamus to ancient holy writings and such, and see if there are any clues to the vulnerability of those two. I know the Ben-Judah-ites believe they are the two witnesses prophesied in the Christian Scriptures. In the unlikely event that they are, Mathews tells me they will be vulnerable four months from now. They themselves have spoken often of their being protected from harm until the due time.”

  “But, sir,” Fortunato whined, “the people who say these men are the prophesied ones are the same who say you are the Antichrist.”

  “I know, Leon. You and I know I am merely doing what I have been called to do.”

  “But if they have a due time, so does their enemy!”

  “Leon! Take a deep breath. Do I act like an Antichrist?”

  “Certainly not, Excellency!”

  “Who do you say that I am?”

  “You know well that I believe in my heart you may be Christ himself.”

  “I shall not make that claim for myself, trusted friend. At least not yet. Only when it is obvious to the world that I have divine power could I personally make such a claim.”


  “I have spread far and wide the story of your resurrecting me—”

  “I appreciate that and am confident many believe it. But it was not witnessed by anyone else, so there may be doubt. I have been ineffective in containing the two preachers, which has damaged my credibility. But I worship a deity determined to be the god above all gods, to sit high above the heavens, to evolve into the perfect eternal being. How can I fail if I pledge myself to him?”

  “As I pledge myself to you, Excellency.”

  To David it seemed Carpathia had returned to his chair behind his desk, where the microphone fidelity was best. “Let us bide our time on Peter,” he said. “Are the majority of the potentates at the limits of their patience with him?”

  “They are, and, sir, despite that Potentate Rehoboth misled me on this very issue, I believe most of the others were sincere. They assured me they were not only sympathetic to eliminating him, but that they would also be willing to participate in his demise.”

  “Leon, I have worked with rulers long enough to know that their word is worthless until it has been confirmed by action. We must allow Peter to believe that more regional potentates are disloyal to me. Clearly his goal is to usurp my role. Rehoboth would have been his Fortunato, had the assassination attempt succeeded. Surely Peter must believe he has the confidence of the others. Let us use that to our advantage.”

  “I will give this my full attention, sir. And thank you again for surrounding me with protection in Johannesburg.”

  “Think nothing of it. When will the pilots return so we may confer the medals upon them?”

  “Soon, sir.”

  “The people love pageantry, do they not?” Leon agreed aloud, but Carpathia talked over him. “With the turmoil of late, we have had too few opportunities to make examples of model citizens, of heroes.”

  “Our workforce is depleted, Excellency, but with creativity we can rise to the occasion and make their return to New Babylon a world-class event.”

  To David, Carpathia sounded as if he were dreaming. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I like that. I like that very much. And get someone on this timing issue with the Twosome. If the Ben-Judah-ites put the due time at the midpoint of our agreement with Israel, I want the precise date.”