The 13: Fall (42 page)

She wiped her eyes and thought about what she had just read. She closed her eyes and prayed,
Father, I believe with all my heart that You have brought all of this to pass for a purpose. And Your word says that our ways are not Your ways, and our thoughts are not Your thoughts. But, Lord, I believe You have shown me this scripture today for a purpose. I know that Isaiah was speaking to Your people. But aren’t we Your people, too? Please, Lord. Let this scripture be a promise for us today, also. Please, Father, spare our nation and lead us back to You. I ask You in Jesus’ name. Amen.

As she lifted her head and opened her eyes, she got an overwhelming sense of peace and affirmation. She wasn’t sure yet what was going to happen, but she definitely knew that God had reassured her that He was in control. And while everything was in chaos right now, eventually He would still the chaos and bring restoration.

She closed the Bible and placed it back in her bag. She decided that sitting inside this cramped car wasn’t going to get her anywhere. Besides, she needed to use the restroom. She decided to go see what the inside of the International Bank of Commerce looked like.

She entered the double doors and found a spacious lobby. Along one wall was a station of kiosks with computer monitors and automated banking. The other held typical teller stations for everyday banking. At the far end of that wall stood a set of elevators, manned by an armed guard. In the center of the room was an information desk with two men, dressed in finely tailored suits, sitting, monitoring the goings-on of the large room. At the back end of the room were signs for public restrooms, and in front of that was another, larger kiosk that housed a snack vendor. She could already smell the aroma of the fresh hot coffee.

She tried to think of something clever to ask the men at the desk but decided against it. She didn’t want to attract any more attention than she already was. She smiled curtly at the men and moved toward the restrooms. When she was finished, she stepped up to the counter and ordered the largest cup they had. The man handed her a coffee and her change and nodded. As she turned around to leave, she pulled up short. Across the room, the doors to the front entrance were opening. And another American was entering.

She’d changed her hair. And the clothes were casual not business professional. She wore oversized sunglasses to hide her eyes, and her collar was pulled up to shield her face. Taylor immediately sat down beside the snack kiosk in one of the several chairs that were there for customers. There was a newspaper sitting on the table, so she opened it and hid herself as the woman walked past her, only several feet away, and stepped up to the elevator guard.

Taylor shifted in her seat slightly to get a better look at the elevators. The woman had some kind of ID badge and was now placing her hand on some device the guard had produced. Megan had seen them before. Portable ID scanners. They could be programmed to receive hand- and fingerprints, retina scans, or even voice analysis. This one seemed to be simple enough. The woman only had her hand on the thing for a moment before the guard stepped aside and gave her a key card. This was for the elevator itself, Taylor presumed. She watched as the woman disappeared into the elevator and the doors closed. She waited a few seconds and then stood up, took one giant last gulp of the coffee, and threw it away. She nodded to the guy at the information desk as she left.

When she got to the car, she pulled her laptop and phone out. Looking up at the entrance door every second or two—determined not to miss her coming out—she went to work attaching the small clip to her phone. She logged in to the satellite and placed the call.

“This is Jennings.”

“Can you talk?”

“Hang on.”

She heard the voices in the background get quieter. And then she heard a door close.

“Okay. What do you need?”

“I’ve found her.”

“Do you have her in custody?”

“Not yet. I tracked her to a bank here in Dubai. I’m waiting for her to come out. I’ll follow her and see where she goes.”

“I don’t care where she goes. I care where she ends up.”

“I got that. I just wanted to know if you could tell me if the CIA has any assets here in Dubai. Or if there’s a house, somewhere I can take her. I don’t think you want me dragging her into my hotel.”

The line was quiet for a second, and then Jennings said, “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll call you back.”

“I may not have ten minutes. She just went in. I almost walked right into her. If she comes out, I’m going to have to move quick.”

“Okay, then just call me back when you can. I’ll have what you need then.”

“Will do.” Then, “Any word?”

She heard Jennings take a long breath and blow it out again. She could imagine him standing there pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s not good. The Chinese fighter jets have hit every highly populated city and military base in the country west of the Appalachian Mountains. The only reason, we believe, they haven’t advanced on the East Coast is they’re waiting until they can get infantry in place. That, and it’s really the only defense systems we have left in country. We have a handful of ships between Andrews and Norfolk. We have roughly sixty F-35 and F-22 jets combined. The problem is, we don’t have enough pilots here to fly them. But the Chinese don’t know that. So they’re staying in the Midwest, for now. But it’s only a matter of time before they hit us. We’re sure.”

“What about Jon? Any word from him?” As she asked, she felt a small lump in her throat.

“He’s okay. He checked in a couple hours ago. He’s at the 101st Airborne Division, north of Nashville. They’ve got a fair amount of troops there and a ton of artillery. Now it’s just a matter of getting them mobilized.”

She was relieved to hear Jon was all right. For now. “So what’s the plan?”

“It’s thin, but Jon is waiting for the rest of the scattered divisions to show up. From there, we’re going to try and mount an offensive. The plan is for us to communicate to as many citizens as we can to find their way east of the Appalachians. If Jon and those guys can hold the Chinese off enough to get that done, we can defend the East Coast. By that time, we should be seeing our Navy and a ton of our boys coming back in.”

“How long?” Megan asked.

“Minimum a week. More like ten days.”

Holding the Chinese off for ten days was highly improbable. According to Jennings, they had already dropped infantry throughout Chicago, Detroit, Indianapolis, Columbus, and Cincinnati in the north. The Midwestern cities were the same. And with the Chinese moving in artillery on the heels of the air attacks, the American people were cowering, waiting to see what would happen. As soon as the Chinese realized they weren’t going to get any resistance, they would press on, bringing in even more ground troops and more artillery. They had a couple days at best.

“Sir, you and I know that we don’t have ten days.”

“I told you, it’s pretty thin.”

“What about all the people in the central part of the country?”

“We’re going to set up blockades with air support at all the Appalachian mountain passes. Even if it takes people two weeks to get to one of them, we’ll get them through. But there are those who will stay. They won’t resist. And the Chinese don’t want to come in here and destroy the country. They just want the land and the resources. Once they have people under submission, they’ll just continue moving forward.”

“What about Boz? Any word from him?”

“I haven’t heard from him. But no one is going to help. They can’t. The Chinese would crush anyone who tried to help us. They’ve already bullied the Mexicans. We know now that they’ve been using Canada for the last ten years to bring in their military. They probably threatened Canada with the same attack if they resisted. It’s brilliant, actually. No one’s on our side on this one.”

“Not even the UK?”

“Especially not the UK. The English prime minister is the softest politician they’ve had in twenty years. And with the damage the last administration did to our relationship with them, they’re acting like they don’t even know us. We have to hold out till our troops get home. And even then, we’re going to need an act of God.”

Taylor felt her breath hitch. She thought back to what the passage had said in Isaiah: “…
and a nation that did not know you shall run to you, because of the Lord your God.
”

“Don’t worry, sir. I think we’re going to get one,” she said.

Just then the doors to the bank opened. Marianne Levy walked out, checked her surroundings, pushed the sunglasses up on her nose, and took off walking down the street.

“I have to go,” she said quickly. “She’s on the move.”

   CHAPTER 68   

I
t was just before lunch when Boz and Mac entered the pub at Pickford’s Wharf on Clink Street. It was a decent place—good food, good ale, according to Mac. Neither of that mattered to Boz right now. He wasn’t much hungry, and he didn’t want to be all that noticed anyway. Mac’s son Eli was already enough of a celebrity, depending on who was around at the time. Mac had said that this was a good place to meet. Not a lot of nosy people and not a typically frequented place for guys like Eli.

As they waited, Boz watched the small television hanging above the bar. It was a BBC news program, and the discussion was the same one on every news station around the world: the Chinese invasion of the United States. The topic was how it could have happened and whether or not anyone was going to come to the aid of the suffering country. And it was getting heated. There was a disagreement as to whether or not Prime Minister Bungard and the Royal Navy should run to the aid of their former longtime ally.

Boz turned away from the screen to see that his friend had arrived. He stood and took the younger man in a bear hug.

“Eli Craig! How are you?” he said as they broke their embrace. Boz stretched his arm out and offered a seat.

“We’re not here to talk about me,” Eli said, sitting. “What’s the word? They aren’t telling us anything.”

“The word is, we’re in a bad way,” Boz said somberly. “It’s a long story, so I’ll have to start at the beginning.”

“Go on, then.” Eli sat back in his chair and grabbed a handful of peanuts.

Boz recounted everything that had happened, from the first phone call he had received from Calvin three months ago to the meeting in the Oval Office with Keene and Taylor. He told him everything he knew about the Prophet and how he thought all of it was directly connected. He continued on with the Marianne Levy situation, the assassination attempt of President Grant, the attack, and finished with the bear hug they’d shared just a moment ago.

“So let me get this straight,” Eli said. “You get a real-live prophet telling you to tell the nation to repent and no one does anything about it?”

“We tried. President Grant was going to tell the nation when he was shot.”

Eli looked across at him. “Hmmm.”