The 13: Fall (31 page)

“Just be careful. And stay away from train tunnels.”

“You worried about me, Taylor?” He raised an eyebrow.

She didn’t know why, but she immediately felt awkward. “No …” she stammered, “I just … I …”

“Go find out what you can at DHS,” he said. “I’ll keep you both posted on what I find.”

Keene turned and left. As she watched him chase after Jennings, she felt something weird in her gut. It was almost as if she was beginning to care about him. Maybe she
was
worried a little.

“I saw that,” Boz said.

“Saw what?” she said defensively.

“That look,” he said. “You’re worried about him.”

“I hardly know the man. That’s ridiculous.”

“Okay,” Boz said. “Just remember: this is how it starts.”

“How what starts?”

Boz laughed and said, “C’mon. We’ve got work to do.”

Keene chased after Jennings who was already halfway out the door. He was slightly conflicted right now. On one hand, he was glad to be flying solo, even if it was only for a little while. He needed the time alone to think. On the other, Boz and Taylor had grown on him. After his wife died, he hadn’t been much of a social person. He always kept everything close to the vest. But there was something different about these two. And that confused him even more, because there couldn’t be two more diametrically opposite people from him in the whole world. But nevertheless, he liked them.

Probably the craziest thing right now was the fact that he was allowing himself to entertain the idea of what Boz had been saying for days. And he couldn’t decide if that made him crazy or just plain sad. For so long, he had harbored this anger that drove him. At first, he had just hated God. Then he decided that there wasn’t a God. And then he decided no, there is a God, He was just punishing him for something. And no matter what anyone said, it always came back to one thing for him. How could a supposedly loving God allow this to happen? How could God allow some radical fundamentalist terrorist group to kill his wife? She was the sweetest, most innocent person anyone had ever known. She hadn’t done anything wrong. No, there was no God.

And so he shut down. And he became the man he was today. The ruthless, highly trained, deadly operative that he was. The SEALs had turned him into a machine. The CIA had turned him into a weapon. And now here he was, years later, entertaining the thought, once more, that there might be a God. And he still didn’t know what that meant. Or if he even liked it. He almost would rather there be a God so he could be mad at Him again. But Boz had been wearing him out. Every time they were alone, the man would try to convince him he had it all wrong.
Who knows?
he thought, frustrated. Maybe he did. But even so, right now, he didn’t care.

“Kevin, what’s up?” he said.

Jennings continued walking. “Got a call from one of our drug cartel snitches.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So he just happens to be on the border in Hidalgo County.”

“And that’s where this Prophet is,” he said, finishing Jennings’s thought. “So what’d he say? How’s that connected to our guy?”

“He didn’t. He just said that there was something there we would want to see. Wouldn’t say anything about it on the phone.”

“And you want me to go see him.”

“Yes. And I want you to do it before you go looking for this Prophet fellow.”

“I don’t know. The Prophet is gonna have the answers we need. I need to be on him first. Why can’t you send someone else? Send Farhetty. He’s not doing anything.”

“Farhetty’s on a plane to Istanbul. I want you to check it out.”

“Look—”

“Jon, this is not a discussion. This is me telling you to go see him. You understand? This guy single-handedly gave us the Molinero cartel. He’s only contacted us three times. And every time it’s been something big. I want to know what he knows.”

   CHAPTER 51   

T
he sun had already set by the time Keene got home. He, Taylor, and Boz had spent the last few hours of the day continuing to track the movements of the Prophet. It seemed he was indeed in Edinburg and had no plans, that they could tell, to leave anytime soon. They had tracked him several times in and out of town. Where he went when he was out of sight was still to be determined. But at least he was staying put for now.

Independence Day was two days away. And the fact that they had no credible evidence that there was an immediate threat of an attack was hindering them from being able to move forward. President Walker had completely rejected the idea of warning the nation further. He gave explicit orders that if any of them were to pursue this course of action, he would personally see to it that they never saw the outside of a prison cell for as long as they lived. The only thing he was willing to concede was allowing them to continue to pursue new evidence. Jennings had told them he was working on it. But for now, they were to hang tight.

He got a text message from Jennings when he got home that said the informant would meet him in two days, the deadline date. In the meantime, he was to go ahead and try to find the Prophet. He would have a plane waiting for him in the morning. That, at least, made him happy. They knew where the man was. Now it was just a matter of getting there and catching him. He called Boz and Taylor and gave them the update. He wondered if President Walker even knew that Jennings was meeting with them.

It had been a long couple of days. And he’d hardly been home. He wanted a long, hot shower and a good night’s sleep. He fixed himself a sandwich, swallowed it in three bites, and headed upstairs to turn the water on. Half an hour later, he felt like a new man. The wound in his shoulder still hurt, but the long shower had helped to loosen the muscles a good bit. He was toweling off when the doorbell rang. He threw on a pair of gym shorts and grabbed his gun. No reason for anyone to be showing up at this hour.

He stood beside the door and was about to call out to see who it was when he heard the voice.

“It’s Boz.”

He opened the door and walked back into the living room. He sat down and laid the 9mm on the corner table.

“Expecting someone else?” Boz asked, pointing to the pistol.

“Not expecting anyone,” Keene said.

Boz nodded and sat down. “So you’re headed to Texas in the morning.”

“Looks that way. You going with Kevin to see the Joint Chiefs?”

“Looks that way.”

Both men sat there in silence for a few moments. Keene finally broke the stalemate.

“I’m not going to kill him, Boz.”

“I know. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then what?”

“Couple things. First, I wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine. What do you mean?”

“You’re not fine. You’ve got a hole in your shoulder. And I wanted to talk to you about this Prophet guy.”

“You trying to shrink me again, chapy?”

Boz laughed at him. “No, I’m not trying to
shrink
you again. Listen. I know you have had a hard time even considering buying into all of this, but I’m telling you, man—I believe with all of my soul that something is happening here. I think you believe it, too, you’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

Keene just sat there looking at him, stern-faced.

“Tell me what happened to your wife.”

Here we go again
, Keene thought. “What’s that got to do with anything? I told you. She was killed by a terrorist.”

“It’s got everything to do with everything. It’s the very reason you’re set on denying that this could all be real.”

Ever since he’d left the unit, Keene had worked on his own. Up until two weeks ago, Jennings was the closest thing he had had to a friend. And though it was hard for him to admit, he missed the camaraderie. The last two weeks with Boz and Taylor had brought that to light. But to say that he and Boz were close friends, after this short a period, was reaching. And Boz was close to stepping over the line.

“My personal convictions have nothing to do with this,” Keene snapped. “If there is a threat against this country, then I want to stop it. It’s that simple.”

“It’s not that simple,” Boz said. “I get it. You think that God let her die by the hands of terrorists. And since He couldn’t stop it, you’ve dedicated your life to doing what you think He couldn’t do.”

“You don’t know anything! And you’re way outta line.”

“No,
you’re
outta line. You’ve got this screwed-up view of the world and how it’s your job to make everything right. It’s not your job!”

“Then who’s is it!” he yelled. “His? ‘Cause He’s done a poor job of it.”

“No, He hasn’t. That’s what I’m trying to show you, if you’d just listen.”

Keene dug his fingers into the arms of the chair and set his jaw. Boz had been pressing him to have this conversation since they’d met. And he didn’t want anything to do with it, because he wouldn’t admit it, but Boz was right. He was mad that this God, if He was real, allowed her to die. And He did nothing to stop it, so Keene had decided he would. And he’d lived the last eight years trying to make sure that he kept some other poor sap from losing someone he loved.

“I’ve only got one thing to say to you. But it’s the very thing that you need to hear.”

Keene just stared at him.

“Jesus Christ loves you.”

Keene let out a laugh. “That’s it? That’s all you got for me, chapy? Kindergarten Sunday school?”

“Jon … Jesus Christ loves you.”

“Seriously—” Keene couldn’t help himself. The absurdity of it took him. A couple seconds of laughter gave way to a hard cough. He rubbed his shoulder. “Ouch! Laughing makes it hurt.” Then, “You get that from a greeting card?”

“Laugh if you want to. But it’s true.”

“Okay, chapy. You wanna go there? Let’s go there.”

Keene sat forward on the chair and gave him a hard stare. “What about my life makes you think your Jesus loves
me
? To be quite honest with you, my life has been one big suckfest after another. Dad left when I was twelve. Mom died when I was eighteen. Had a recruiter boldface lie to me about all the great things I would see and do in the Marines. Two months later I’m getting shot at in Afghanistan. Where was your Jesus then? He wasn’t
there
, I can tell you that.”

“I’m sorry you—”

“Oh, no, no, no—you wanna know what’s
sorry
? How ‘bout the fact that I spend six months training for a mission that should’ve gone down without a hitch, but instead I get a bureaucrat in Washington—trying to make himself look important—who goes and shoots his mouth off to some people he shouldn’t have, and I end up walking four of the best men this country’s ever seen into an ambush and getting them killed. Or how ‘bout the fact that despite all the garbage this world has thrown me, I somehow end up with the most incredible, beautiful woman—inside and out—I’ve ever known. And she gets ripped away from me because some idiot believed
his
god told him to go hijack a bus and blow it up in front of Times Square! You wanna know sorry? How’s that for sorry?”

“You done? You feel better now? Now that you got that out?”

Keene bit his lip and shook his head. “No, I’m not done. Why do you care so much about a God who, apparently, couldn’t give two cares about this world, let alone you or me? Tell me, Boz. Where’s God when all these wars are going on and people are killing each other? Where’s God when you see little kids starving to death or thousands of people being killed by an earthquake or tsunami? Explain to me why a twenty-year-old gets cancer and dies, while a child rapist gets acquitted on a technicality. Where’s God in that? Huh?” He slammed his fist on the armrest. “Now I’m done!” He sat back in the chair. “Though I could go on.”