Burn (15 page)

Chapter 19

Alas! Alas! that great city Babylon, that mighty city! for in one hour is thy judgment come.

—Revelation

David Noas needed to discuss his suspicions and his plans with his most intimate advisor, but that was impossible. The Master, the father who made him a son, was truly dead. It took the commander a couple of deep breaths to swallow this wave of grief. Everyone in the Ready Room stood at his entrance, so he waved them to their seats. Headsets, holos and peels glowed throughout the room, and the background chatter of a dozen satlink conversations picked up where they had left off.

Commander Noas opened the scramble channel and lit right into Ezra Hodge.

“What do you think you’re doing, Hodge? Inciting panic and sending our people willy-nilly into the streets furthers no one. And how many of our faithful do you think would survive the kind of blood bath you’re instigating?”

The expression, and the answer, were smug.

“At least a hundred and forty-four thousand, Commander, and that’s all that prophecy requires.”

“Mr. Hodge, does the word ‘Custer’ mean anything to you? We are sorely outnumbered in this world—
thousands
to one. Do you want to go down in history as the man who single-handedly destroyed the only true church on God’s green earth?”

The commander’s voice had risen to a shout that silenced the Ready Room.

Before Hodge could answer, the commander’s Sidekick interrupted with an incident warning tone.

“Speak!” he ordered.

“Sir! Ranger unit in Mexico City reports that they’ve taken heavy fire by unknown bandits. Casualties. Requests backup strike force, emphasis countersniper, and medevac for twelve.”

“Twelve . . . !”

The Jesus Rangers’ field units were twelve-member teams.

“Have Senator Plata protest the Joint Chiefs
now”
he ordered. “And request intervention—U.S. nationals, U.N., OAS—whoever. Our nearest Ranger backup is in Veracruz. Order them a jump immediately and get me a link to the Mexico City unit.”

“Yes, Commander.”

The commander took a long pull at his ice water.

“Those Peace and Freedom people and your old pal Colonel Toledo did the job on ViraVax,” Tekel announced, over the commander’s shoulder. His expression was grim, and his tight voice close to a hiss. Tekel tapped a cube and set it on the commander’s Litespeed. “ViraVax shutdown dumped the data to our system. It’s all in here. He’s been a mighty busy boy.”

Toledo!

David Noas had hoped that he would never cross swords with his old sparring partner. Now, on top of the loss of the Master, the commander felt that special loss reserved for betrayals. After a few moments this special loss became anger, and the anger an uncharacteristic but infinitely satisfying rage.

“I will harvest his organs myself,” the commander whispered to no one. “That is a promise.”

“First vote in,” Tekel announced, pressing on his earpiece. “And it’s unanimous.”

“Who?” the commander asked, and at the same time offered a quick prayer of thanks for the speed of the vote and another prayer of support for the man who had been handed this tremendous cross.

Tekel didn’t move, and he sported a wide grin.

“What’s so amusing, Mr. Tekel?”

“Well, sir . . . they voted for you. You’re the new Master of the Children of Eden.”

The Ready Room broke out in an enthusiastic applause. Sergeant Tekel accompanied a stunned David Noas back into Sanhedrin Chambers, where the applause was thunderous. David Noas offered a quick prayer of supplication, then accepted a bowl from one of the Innocents and began to wash the feet of the Sanhedrin. So it was that he began his day as prophet and Master of the Children of Eden.

An hour later, the Master David Noas stood alone in the courtyard of the Sanhedrin and pretended to meditate in the privacy of a stand of bamboo. His dark hands worried at one another, two twitchy little animals at the cuffs of his new white robe. Those scars that seemed so vivid when he wore black seemed to blend in better when framed in white.

David had never believed that he would be chosen Master of the Children of Eden. He realized now, for the first time, that this had been his greatest fear. As a child he’d watched his father, first, and then Calvin Casey go to strangers’ doors, pamphlets in hand, to introduce them to Jesus. David always hung back, on musty porches, hot sidewalks, in blustery rain, and he admired these holy men who faced grim-lipped strangers with a smile and a handshake. After the deaths of his parents and the others, as he moved into the white heat of adolescence, David Noas trusted no one but the Master.

The Master had honed him into a fine tool of vengeance, though vengeance was not what he preached in the streets nor on the airwaves. Always a thoughtful, obedient boy, David set out to repay the Master’s kindness by routing the unbelievers and infidels and those loudmouth murderers of Jesus Christ. When gangs of Jewish boys vandalized Jesus Is Lord mini-marts, David and his followers sought them out, one by one, and pacified them in most unpacifistic ways.

“An attack on the faithful is an attack on the faith,” he reasoned. “And an attack on the faith is an attack on the Lord Himself.”

When the doubters challenged, “The Lord can take care of Himself,” the young David Noas shot back, “Yeah, that’s why he made me.”

In those days, as a Bible-mad hotblood, he raged against the spinelessness of the Lord’s disciples and vowed to defend the true word of God with his life, as his father and mother had.

“The Holy Spirit threw you out that window to save you for a higher purpose than death in some squalid little village,” the Master had told him. “It’s up to you to find that purpose. Pray on it, son, and you will know the truth in your heart.”

Up until now, he thought that his purpose had been revenge. Now, after twenty-two years of it, the cup tasted bitter and he wanted to put it away for good.

But how?

Now he was the Master, and his followers expected revenge, and he wanted none of it. David Noas was, for the first time, afraid. Not afraid of the infighting that might devil them all, but of his unworthiness and of the great emptiness that sat where he was supposed to have vision. A walk in the afternoon sun had not helped lift this blackness and this doubt from his soul.

In spite of the fear, and his surprise at the vote, he understood that this was his life, and Calvin Casey had been leading him towards all along. He knew now that Calvin Casey had not been any more at ease. The Master had merely worn his discomfort in grace, and persevered. David Noas vowed to do the same.

“Commander,” Hubbard broke into his reverie, “Master, I mean. The White House calling. You can use my Sidekick.”

David waved it away.

“I don’t want to talk to some bureaucratic termite,” he said. “I want the queen.”

Hubbard smiled, and it must have been painful through his chapped lips. He offered the instrument again.

“Her highness herself,” he said.

President O’Connor wasted no time on pleasantries.

“Mr. Noas, have you followed the incident in Mexico City?”

“As best I can. Your administration has seen to
it that information is at a premium.”

“I can say the same thing about your organization, Mr. Noas. We’re not getting the full background here, and the rumors are very ugly. This does neither of us any good. I’d like to remedy that.”

“What?”

“I propose that you and I meet at Camp David immediately to discuss it.”

Hubbard’s eyebrows quivered a little, as they often did when he was excited. David decided that the President could use a little humility.

“O’Connor,” David said. “That’s an Irish name, isn’t it? Are you Catholic?”

Hubbard smiled again and made a twisting-the-knife motion in the air.

“I am President of the United States, Mr. Noas, within which you and your organization reside. Don’t play games with me.”

“You must know, Mrs. O’Connor, how bad things are for us right now.”

“You have my sympathies, Mr. Noas. I, too, have a grief to handle. As commander of your military arm, you are in a unique position to enlighten us.”

“And I am obligated.”

“. . . to do what is right for your people. I know. I will send a flight for you. . . .”

“I am obligated neither to you nor to my people,” David said. “My obligation is to the Lord, His Word and His Work. . . .”

“If we don’t talk
now,
there may very well be no one left to hear the Word or perform the Work, including yourself. Now, I suggest . . .”

“No, Mrs. O’Connor,
I
suggest something. Read Ezekiel 9, and then if you want to talk with me you can come here.”

The Master broke the connection, handed the device to Hubbard, and spat into the bamboo.

“Bet she can’t even boil water,” he muttered. “Get Hodge on the line. It’s time he told us exactly what’s going on in Mexico City.”

“Why do you suppose she’s so hot about that Mexico City thing?” Hubbard asked. “A couple of dozen people in a firefight over a warehouse doesn’t warrant a summit meeting. Not with the President of the United States.”

He keyed in the proper codes for Hodge’s scrambler and handed over the Sidekick.

“That’s exactly what I’d like to talk to Hodge about,” Noas said, and slipped his earpiece into place.

I
hope it doesn’t have anything to do with ViraVax,
he thought, but that falling-elevator feeling in the pit of his stomach warned him otherwise.

“I’ll check the webs on Mexico City,” Hubbard said. “Hodge will want an update, too. I’ll connect, if you’d like to do that now.”

The Master David Noas nodded, took a deep breath and prepared for the inevitable frustration of dealing with Ezra Hodge. Noas reminded himself that he was now the Master, and Hodge was a tool, to be used or tossed. He could afford to be more patient with the man. He decided to appoint Hodge Commander. This would disappoint Hubbard, who would expect the promotion himself, but it would bring Hodge into the fold, make him easier to watch. And his little on-screen drama had proven surprisingly popular with the Sanhedrin.

I can always change my mind after I’m sure we know everything that he knows.

Hodge knew plenty, of this David Noas was certain. The man had been assisting ViraVax programs for years, for the Children of Eden as well as the Agency. With this new confidence that Hodge displayed, Noas was sure that he was hip-deep in this ViraVax mess.

Hodge doesn’t seem surprised,
Noas thought,
like all of this is old news.

Yes, he would get Hodge closer to hand, even though it might mean losing a good mole with the Agency in that region. There were others more to his liking in the Agency; Hodge could be replaced there without much trouble.

Hubbard put the connection through, and in a brief and fairly painless conversation the Master informed Hodge of his new position.

Then he put Hodge on hold for a moment while he and Hubbard turned to see what all the sudden screaming was about in Chambers. Noas split-screened Hubbard’s Sidekick and keyed in the security cameras, but all he could see in the tiny viewer was pandemonium.

And what is that ungodly smell?

He hurried to close with Hodge.

“You have my priority code,” he told Hodge, “and I’m transmitting Hubbard’s now. Something’s wrong in Chambers; I have to go.”

The Master’s whole body prickled, suddenly, and began to tremble. One second he felt unbearably hot, and the next he felt himself rising, like smoke or steam. This was peculiar, since he could see that he had fallen, unfeeling as stone, backwards into the bamboo. His mind groped for a prayer, but there was nothing.

Chapter 20

And the fourth angel poured out his vial upon the sun;
and power was given unto him to scorch men with fire.

—Revelation

Major Ezra Hodge rubbed his eyes and checked his watch.

I’ve been up almost thirty-six hours!

He was once again surprised and thankful for the energy that was his gift from the Lord. It had enabled him to make his own investigations of the ViraVax site and to ascertain that destruction of lower levels had been complete—thanks to Toledo. After Toledo was picked up, Hodge had mucked about in the godforsaken jungle most of the night, then developed and delivered his own strategies to the albino at the Defense Intelligence Agency before daybreak.

This morning Chief Solaris ordered the entire compound buried in concrete immediately. Hodge concurred, because argument would be fruitless, and might expose him as a sympathizer. He would get out there once more in the daylight for another recon, just in case there was trouble lying about, some unknown factor that might put a hitch in Flaming Sword.

“Trouble lying about” reminded him of Toledo, and the humiliation he’d just suffered at the hands of the albino.

The albino’s treating Toledo like some kind of hero,
he thought.
Relieving me of the interrogation in front of the enlisted men undermines my authority here.

Major Hodge reminded himself to relax, that it didn’t matter, that in a matter of weeks there would be no Chief Solaris, no enlisted men.

All was going as planned.

More a hasty collage than a plan, Hodge tried to make the best of the sabotage wrought by Colonel Toledo and the children. Toledo was a mosquito awaiting a swat, but the children required a delicacy and resources that Hodge feared he did not have. He turned his fears to prayer, and one by one the obstacles fell from his path as the scales had fallen from his eyes.

Colonel Toledo had convinced Solaris to mercenize a Mexico City guerrilla team to liberate the warehouse. He was sure they’d be no match for the Jesus Rangers there. What could a straggle of ragtag idolators do against the Mighty Men of the right hand of God?

They could delay distribution of those World Health shipments until there aren’t any more planes to fly,
he thought.

That would be a serious setback. Timing was the key. He and the Angel had counted on the vaccine shipments going out on Monday, following the doctored EdenSprings waters in service with the airlines, among many others. These AVAs would still encompass the globe, but not with the swiftness generated by a few hundred million personal injections in the name of medicine.

Hodge looked out his office window onto the sullen, battered compound of the U.S. Embassy across the street. Two extra security detachments betrayed the frantic activity that he knew roiled in the bunker-like interior. Every piece of the bristling rooftop electronics should be aglow with overuse, such was the level of panic inside. Even now his own equipment monitored every word, every signal for his perusal later. None of it had much value.

Major Hodge smiled at his shadowy reflection in the one-way duraglass and smoothed his rumpled shirt over his pot belly. He knew the picture that he presented: short, pudgy, pasty-skinned, nearly bald at thirty. In other words: bookish, invisible, threatless. The thought brought a sparkle to his blue eyes. This morning his cheeks and nose were blotched with mosquito bites, but he had to admit he’d enjoyed his slog into the boonies.

Today Ezra Hodge enjoyed everything, because the Eden he had prayed for all his life was finally at hand. He had Adam and Eve in his care, just as the Angel’s contingency predicted.

And those drones at the embassy don’t have a clue,
he thought.

If he were loyal to the Agency, he would have let Mishwe come down to the wire with his plan, then nabbed him and the invaluable AVAs. But that would not suit his plan at all.

And for what?
he thought.
A commendation? Recommendation for promotion?

That was nothing compared to nearly two hundred years in Eden. More, if he took care of himself. Where the Agency was concerned, Ezra Hodge had bigger fish to fry.

The tone on his Sidekick brought a wry smile. That would be the Sanhedrin, perhaps Noas himself. By now perhaps they had reviewed the supplemental materials he’d parceled out from the ViraVax records. They would see that the Advent of Eden was at hand, and that Ezra Hodge held the key.

He strolled to his console and double-checked the Litespeed, reassuring himself that the satlink to Godwire was secure and any listening devices in the office were useless. He straightened his tie, tugged the wrinkles out of his shirt and commanded the machine, “Scramble one. Open.”

The flat-screen image of David Noas did the man no justice. Captured in front of the giant bamboo, the Goliath was truly a David, and Ezra Hodge did not have to suffer neck cramps looking up at him in person. The commander’s scarred and swarthy face tried for a neutral expression, but Hodge’s experienced eye read fatigue, shock and an undercurrent of anger that came out in dark-circled, wide eyes and a twitch of muscles around the jaw. The major breathed evenly, smoothly, confident that his expression did not betray his triphammer heart.

“Good morning, Commander Hodge,” Noas began, “and congratulations.”

“Thank you, Master,” Hodge managed, with a suitable nod of respect.

He did not want Noas to see that the promotion had caught him off guard.

“Congratulations, yourself,” he said, “and thank you for your confidence in me.”

“You knew?”

Hodge enjoyed the flicker of uncertainty that passed over the dark-circled eyes of David Noas. He did not know for sure, but the laws of probability were behind his bluff, and the bluff paid off. Even if Noas were to survive Flaming Sword, he never would be sure just how much Ezra Hodge knew about anything.

“It could be deduced from your introduction,” Hodge allowed. “If you were no longer Commander, then it follows that the Sanhedrin must have selected you Master. I could not imagine them voting you out in this hour of need.”

Noas seemed unimpressed by the logic or the flattery.

“We have both been chosen for our military and intelligence skills,” he said. “The Sanhedrin fears a worldwide coalition against us and expects us to stop it. My question for you: Will you give up your position with the DIA to serve us?”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Hodge asked. “I’m in a unique position here, and it has cost me thirteen years of torment and humiliation among the Babylonians. With a strong first officer, I believe I can hold this position and serve the Lord as well.”

Noas nodded absently, and Hodge realized that he was receiving another conversation via his earpiece.

We need focus at a time like this, not distraction!

“All right, Commander,” Noas said, finally. “You may remain in position for the time being. We will assess our threat, and you will continue your work with the Mishwe materials from ViraVax. Your assistant on the Twelve will be Tekel. He’s reliable, and up to speed on our current situations. I recommend Hubbard as your first officer, but that choice is yours.”

“Thank you, Master,” Hodge said. This time the title did not stick quite so hard in his throat. “I expect to have an update to you in the next few hours.”

“We are assessing a situation in Mexico City where our people are under attack for unknown reasons. Hubbard will brief you within the hour.”

More of Toledo’s meddling,
he thought.
He and the albino wasted no time.

Hodge considered informing Noas of the situation, then thought better of it. The Jesus Rangers could hold their own, and Noas didn’t need to know how Toledo had slicked him on this one. Nor did he need to know quite yet what the fighting was about.

“Thank you, Master. I’ll investigate from this end.”

“Could this be linked to the ViraVax disaster?”

Hodge hesitated. Noas was no fool, and had been instrumental in cloaking certain military applications of the AVA technology. Hodge concluded that it didn’t matter now whether the Mexico City shipment was exposed. All the others were in the pipeline.

“It’s possible, Master,” Hodge said. “Several coded shipments left here for Mexico City just prior to the sabotage. Transplant units and vaccines for World Health. I should know more in a couple of hours.”

“If the situation sours in Mexico City, a couple of hours may be eternity.”

“The fight in Mexico City is over nothing,” Hodge said with a smirk. “Don’t get drawn into it. I’ll have all the data to you within twenty-four hours. You will gain much and lose nothing by cooperating with the Babylonians on this one, trust me.”

“All right,” Noas said, and it came out a sigh. “I have a couple of speeches to write and a lobbyful of interviewers. And the Termite Queen wants to meet in person. She’s got a wild hair about this Mexico thing. Maybe they’ve winded the organ harvest and want some evidence. . . .”

Noas was distracted by something off-screen, and Major Hodge heard shouts and screams in the background.

Suddenly, David Noas looked very agitated.

“You have my priority code,” he said, “and I’m transmitting Hubbard’s now. Something’s wrong in Chambers; I have to go.”

The Children of Eden logo filled the screen, and Hodge switched it off.

Hodge had been cut off for most of his adult life from open practice of his religion, a religion that he felt with a passion that surpassed any corporal desire. Now his hour had come around at last, and his heart made a joyous cry to the Lord. Soon, he would be able to shout his love of God from the rooftops.

“‘Trouble in Chambers,’” Hodge repeated to himself, with a laugh. “I’ll get back to you, trust me,” he whispered, and patted the hot scrambler.

He would wait until GenoVax threw the children into his hands, and he would urge Rena Scholz to help him protect them.

She’ll be safest with the children,
he thought.
I
can offer her the antidote at the last possible moment.

He took out the compact metal kit and prepared to administer another shot. He had not yet concocted a good story for his possession of the antidote, but for one who had been writing disinformation for the news media for years, this should present no challenge.

And if she, too, is swept up by the pale horse of pestilence?

He did not intend to live out his days in the Garden of Eden without a companion. Ezra the Invisible would improvise, as he’d been doing successfully all his life.