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Authors: Jerry Hatchett

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BOOK: Seven Unholy Days
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God

 

The message was clear:  ISRAEL OVER! It was time for a conversation with the White House.

 

 

 

63

 

 

 

 

10:18 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

SITUATION ROOM

WHITE HOUSE

 

 

 

 

              The news that Israel was the likely target for Hart’s finale cast a long shadow of quiet over the room and its assembly of powerful men.

“Everything on this planet always seem to wind up back in the Middle East,” the President said when he finally broke the silence. He turned to the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Admiral Bradley Stockton. “Brad, what’s the most likely origin over there for a missile strike on Israel?”

“Christ, sir. It could come from anywhere. They’re surrounded on every side by people who hate them and would love to see them vaporized. Any nation-state in the region is a potential conspirator who might aid and abet this maniac.”

“We’ve spent a fortune on increasing intel there for more than a decade. How could this have happened? How do we know he’s not bluffing?”

Major Todd Thompson spoke up. “With all due respect, sir, he hasn’t bluffed yet. And given his known acquisition of the one Russian nuke, we have researched and confirmed that a number of other Russian nuclear assets are unaccounted for.”

“A number? Are you saying that he could have more than one missile?”

“I’m afraid so, sir. The delivery vehicles, the missiles, are plentiful in a number of nations we would consider hostile to Israel. For years, the Russians have been willing to sell them to anyone with the cash. The warheads are the real problem and there are presently three missing. This isn’t the first time it’s happened, but we do believe it’s the first time it has happened in Moscow right under the noses of the top brass. Prior incidents have all taken place in the outlying provinces that used to be under Soviet control. There’s also a chance he could get something from the Iranians, but the Russian scenario is far more likely.”

“I see. What size are these warheads, and how long have they been gone?”

“Eighty kilotons, devastating. Our sources indicate they were smuggled out within the past thirty days by substituting dummy warheads so they wouldn’t be missed during inventory checks. There’s obviously a high-level official involved.”

Stanson held up a finger for pause and turned to an aid. “Have someone get President Aganine on the phone.” He turned back to his audience. “Maybe we can get some help from him. Brad, what kind of naval presence do we have in the a
rea?”

“The
Ronald Reagan
carrier battle group is in the Mediterranean.”

“Do you need more?”

“No sir. One CBG is sufficient for any single target, or a package of three targets, for that matter. Give me locations and I’ll make them disappear.”

“All right, let’s get to it, gentlemen. I’ll talk to the Israeli Prime Minister after I’ve finished with Aganine. I want Hart and his missiles found and eradicated. Is that clear?” He looked around the room and to the videoconferencing screen for nods and got them.

“By the way, can anyone tell me where the hell my FBI director is?”

Around the room, heads shook and shoulders shrugged.

“He better be here within thirty minutes and have one hell of a story if he wants to keep his job. That is all.”

 

 

 

10:25 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

YELLOW CREEK

 

“Well that was really useful,” I said to myself as soon as I was sure the link was dead. The most powerful men on Earth were thus far powerless to stop whatever was coming. I felt the weight of the situation bearing down on my shoulders one more time.

The feed cut back to Larry, who had already managed to build cluttered environs in the White House that rivaled his normal digs back in the Hoover basement.

“Matt, just wanted to let you know that the agents are still working on your father’s case. No luck yet, I’m sorry to say.”

“Thanks, Larry.”

“I think I’ve spotted something in this letter,” Tark said.

“Are you serious?”

“I’m certain of it!” He was excited, puffing at warp speed; I could hear the soft cluck of his lips on the briarwood. “Put it on the big screen.”

“Hang on a second.” I routed the document to the display and Tark walked to it.

“I didn’t break any fancy code,” he said, pointing at the screen, “but take a look at the first letter of each paragraph in the body of the letter.”

“Let’s see, I come up with P – E –T – R – A. Petra?”

“Yes, Petra!”

“Meaning?”

“Petra is an ancient city in the Jordanian desert.”

“You just earned my undivided attention. Is it inhabited?”

“I don’t know what’s going on over there now, but it was abandoned for centuries. Hidden in a canyon, buildings carved right out of the rock. It’s slap dab in the middle of nowhere, Matthew, and next door to Israel.”

“You might have just saved the day, Tark. If we’re lucky, the world.”

“I’m no savior, but I hope it helps. Think this is worth telling the President?”

 

             
“Yo
ur calls on this whole thing have been uncanny. How confident are you on this issue?” said the President.

“It fits, sir,” I said. “I have no doubt he intends to hit Israel, and from a glance at the map, Petra looks to be as likely a launch point as any. I don’t have figures, but I’m sure your people will confirm it to be within the range of those missiles.”

Stanson turned to his aid and told him to get the CIA busy gathering intelligence on the area, then turned back to the camera. “Mr. Decker, I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. When this is over I’d love to have you come spend a weekend here at the house.”

“I’d be honored, Mr. President. May I ask what your plans are from this point in the operation?”

“Rich?” he said, talking to National Security Advisor Rich Henning.

“As soon as we wrap up this discussion I’ll confer with CIA, but I think step one is to quickly re-task a hi-res bird or two for a look. Might want to move some drones into that airspace, as well.”

“We have the latest and greatest on board the
Reagan
,” Admiral Stockton said. “I’ll get them airborne immediately. I can also mobilize a squad of Marines.”

“Do whatever you see fit, gentlemen,” the President said. “I want to be very clear on one point, however. It’s not enough to stop the missiles. I want this man done away with. No media circus of a trial. Kill the sonofabitch.”

“It goes without saying that I agree,” Henning said, “but there’s one big problem. We don’t have any idea what he looks like. We have no pictures, and I do mean none. No fingerprints. Zero to identify him. We’ve talked to people who worked for years in Hardier Enterprises and not one soul has seen him in over twenty-five years. He’s a phantom.”

“He’s no phantom,” I said, “and I know someone who knows exactly what he looks like.”

 

 

 

3:10 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME (LOCAL)

YELLOW CREEK

 

“I’m normally not a preachy kind of fellow,” Tark said.

“Then why are you laying it on me so thick? You’ve made it abundantly clear you believe in God. I’ve made it just as clear that I don’t. What’s the problem?”

“You’re walking right into harm’s way, you could use some help, and I think you do believe.”

If it had been anyone else essentially calling me a liar, not to mention annoying the hell out of me, I would have reached a breaking point long ago on this issue. But the truth is, I really liked Tark. Loaded with integrity and knows no fear, the kind of friend who has your back no matter what. He was Norman without the Labrador limitations. How could I not like him and give him a little room?

“Now my curiosity meter is pegged out. What would make you think I do believe?”

“You’ve always believed, you’re just angry. You felt aba
ndoned when your father got hurt and you never forgave God for it. That’s a scary thing to fess up to, so you convinced yourself you don’t believe at all. That’s what I think, Matthew.”

“With all due respect, my friend, you’re off base. Your the
ory was true for the first year or so when I prayed day and night for God to heal my Dad, but when he didn’t answer ... ”

“You lost faith and quit asking.”

“I stopped believing, and that’s that. If he was real he would’ve answered.”

“He answers in his time, not ours.”

“I hear you, Tark, but we’ll just have to agree to disagree on this one. Let me say this, though. You’re a solid example of the human race and I sincerely appreciate your concern. I’ll be fine.”

“And what if you’re not?”

“Hey, we all have to go sometime, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“No buts, Tark. I’m no hero, but it’s fallen to me to find and stop this asshole before he kills more people. If I have to die doing that, I’m okay with it. Really.”

“At least think about what I’ve said.”

“I’ll do that.”

“Good enough, and you take care of yourself. I’ll hold down the fort here so holler if you need anything.”

“Will do. I better get going.” He shook/crushed my hand, then wrapped me up in a big hug. Time to go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DAY SEVEN

 

MONDAY

 

 

 

 

And when he had opened the seventh seal,

there was silence in heaven about the space

of half an hour.

Revelation 8:1

 

 

64

 

 

 

 

4:15 AM GREENWICH MEAN TIME (LOCAL)

12:15 AM EASTERN DAYLIGHT TIME

TIME REMAINING: 14 HOURS, 1 MINUTE

SOMEWHERE OVER THE NORTH ATLANTIC

 

 

 

 

             
I can
say without hesitation that Jana Fulton is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. The picture was breathtaking but it didn’t come close to the real thing. The color of her shoulder-length hair reminded me of a canary yellow diamond I once saw in a museum collection of royal jewels. It was about the same color and sparkled wherever light touched it. Her eyes were bluish green—almost turquoise—her skin a creamy tan. She told me a female FBI agent in Omaha happened to be her size and loaned her the clothes she was wearing, a pair of blue jeans and a simple white cotton shirt. I tried not to stare but—no, that’s a lie. I stared
willingly.

The military brass in the Situation Room put up a brief a
rgument when I suggested Jana—assuming she was willing—and I should make the trip to Petra. Very brief. Stanson was a man on a mission; protocols and rules were out the window as far as he was concerned and that was that. Jana did need to be there, of course, if they wanted to be sure the right man was dealt with since she was the only person known to us who knew what he looked like. As for myself, Hart had turned this whole affair personal and I’d earned the right to be included.

She had gotten a treat few civilians enjoy by being flown from Omaha to Memphis in the rear seat of an F-15. One of the helicopters that had brought in the RADIAC operators took me to Memphis, where we both boarded an FBI corporate style jet that got us to Washington in a hurry. We were met at Andrews Air Force base by Major Thompson and a small contingent of serious-looking soldier types. After several hours of briefing J
ana and I re-boarded that same aircraft and were on our way.

I woke from a nap to see her gazing out the window at the blackness of night. “I’m very sorry about Brett,” I said.

“Thanks. I’m heartbroken, of course, but our whole family steeled ourselves for the “Brett is gone” phone call long ago. He was wild as a buck. I hope that doesn’t sound too cold, but I’m a practical, straightforward person.” She unfastened her seat belt and turned to face me. “Enough gloomy talk for now. Tell me about Matt Decker.”

I gave her the highlights, sans a few unsavory details like street fighting and strong-arm robbery. She asked a lot more questions and I gave a lot more answers. We moved from me to her and back and forth. I got the full story of the week she’d just been through and was amazed by the strength she had shown once the initial shock wore off. She was comfortable to talk to and it was a nice exchange. We lost track of time and got r
eminded when the sky outside started lightening as dawn approached.

“We better try to get a little sleep while we can,” I said.

“Yeah, we might have a tough day ahead.”

“That’s probably an understatement. Night, Jana.”

“Good night, Matt.”

I switched off the overhead lights, pulled down all the wi
ndow shades in the cabin, and looked across the small aisle at her one more time as she pulled a blanket up around her shoulders. Her very presence overwhelmed me. “Jana?”

“Yes?”

“I’ve never met anyone like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I only met you a few hours ago, but I feel like I’ve known you all my life.” An awkward silence followed, the sort that takes place while one party watches the other try to lever a 10 ½-D from his mouth. She was the most fabulous example of womanhood I had ever seen and I just mucked everything.

In the dim light of the cabin, I couldn’t tell whether she frowned or smiled. She said nothing. I resisted the urge to heave myself from the aircraft and fell asleep to the rush of jet engines pushing us toward Israel.

 

 

BOOK: Seven Unholy Days
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