Mark of Evil (7 page)

Rivka thought Brooking was playing it coy, giving her the “from what I’ve heard” line. He could be an insider in Jo Li’s underground economy; when she’d had her boot at Chow’s throat, he’d confirmed Brooking might know something.

“Is there any downside to Jo Li’s system?” Rivka said. “For us ‘Jesus people,’ as you refer to us?”

Brooking looked as if he was still sizing her up. Rivka could see that something was at play, something about Hadley Brooking that remained hidden under the surface. “Let’s talk more about this soon,” Brooking said as he slid his card across the desk. “Call me. We’ll talk. I would like to help you. If I’m able, that is.”

NINE

MAVERICK COUNTY, TEXAS

The two border patrol agents lay flat on their stomachs, hidden in a grove of sand sage and yucca, each of them peering through binoculars.

The junior agent said, “I hate doing this on my belly. I’ve heard about the coral snakes.”

“Maybe,” the senior agent replied, “but at least those are easy to spot, the colors being what they are. Rattlers are more likely around here.” He tensed as he saw something off in the distance through his binoculars. “Speaking of snakes. Down there, coming up over the ridge. See them?”

The other border patrol agent shifted his focus and saw what his senior partner was looking at: three blue Humvees mounted with machine guns coming over a slight ridge. They were flying
blue-and-white Global Alliance flags. He cussed loudly. “Okay, now what?”

“We report back, then get out of here.”

“That means they’re now fifteen miles inside the borders of the United States. We need to do something—”

“Just report back,” the other agent spit out. “Nothing more.”

“I say we request authority to use force.”

“Right. We’re going to fire our Smith & Wessons at that armored convoy? Think again.”

“Man, oh man. First the Mexican kidnappers and the drug cartels. Now this.”

“Let’s go,” the senior agent said. They both raised themselves slightly off the ground and half duckwalked, hunched over, through the brush until they neared their white vehicle with the diagonal green stripe. The patrol vehicle was on top of the ridge about fifty feet away, but in an area clear of underbrush or cover.

The senior agent said, “We’d better make this fast. Once we climb into our ride, I’ll call it in to HQ and then we can bug out of here.”

They were still hunched over as they scuffled through the dirt toward the patrol Hummer. Then the junior agent stopped and half turned around. “Did you see that? A puff of smoke! Couple of feet behind me, coming off the ground. They just took a sniper shot at me!”

“Keep heading to the Hummer,” the senior agent growled.

As he continued toward the patrol vehicle, the other agent raised his profile a bit, unholstered his Smith & Wesson, and aimed it at one of the Global Alliance vehicles.

“Drop your weapon!” the senior agent yelled. “Don’t give them—”

But it was too late. Smoke rose from the machine guns on top of two of the Alliance vehicles in the distance, and then a millisecond later the sound of
ratta-tat.
The junior agent’s chest exploded as several rounds ripped through him and he dropped to the ground screaming in pain. The senior agent dropped to his side and cradled
him, covering his bloody body, but no more shots came. The agent dragged his partner over the sandy ground to the Hummer, lifted him into the back, and then leaped into the driver’s seat and jabbed his finger onto the fingerprint tab of the emergency satphone.

“Man down, man down!” he yelled. “Verify that you have our coordinates. We’ve taken shots from an Alliance convoy. We need a medivac chopper stat! Do you read? Over.”

OVAL OFFICE OF THE WHITE HOUSE

Washington, D.C.

There was a moment, just then, when President Hank Hewbright wondered whether he had made a mistake. Whether he should have convened this meeting in the soundproof, surveillance-immune confines of the Situation Room.
Too late now
, he thought as he eyed the four cabinet-level appointees and two White House advisors seated around him. But then there would also have been a risk with a meeting even in that hyper-secured location. The word would have leaked out to the rest of the staff that a Situation Room meeting was in progress and they would wonder why. Rumors would fly. At this point Hewbright didn’t really know whom he could trust. And he couldn’t afford to risk a leak to the international community that America was at a Level Red over this newest outrage. He had to keep them guessing.

The president finished reading the two-page briefing memo on the incident and felt a combination of rage and nausea at the report. He leaned back in the embroidered white couch that sat just a few feet from the outer rim of the seal of the United States of America embossed in the carpet. “Two border agents were shot at. One killed?” he asked with a shake of the head.

Elizabeth Tanner, Homeland Security director, nodded from
her position directly across the large coffee table from the president. “Regrettably, the junior agent suffered massive chest wounds and expired before the medivac helicopter arrived on the scene.”

George Caulfield, the White House Chief of Staff sitting next to her, interjected, “The Command Center of the Global Alliance has already released a public statement. Their story is that one of the U.S. border agents had ‘threatened deadly force against the Alliance convoy with his weapon,’ and they fired on him in self-defense.”

President Hewbright turned to William Tatter, his director of the CIA. “And your assessment of these movements along the Mexican border?”

“They are definitely coordinated,” Tatter said. “The Alliance has been making the encroachments along our entire southern border almost daily—ever since the vote in the Senate to ratify the Charter of Global Alliance. It seems clear they believe that the action of Congress makes the United States part of Global Region One, eradicating our borders with Mexico in the south and with Canada to the north.”

The president turned to Terrance Tyler, his secretary of state. “What’s your take on the most recent incursion, Terry?”

Tyler was leaning back in the upholstered swivel chair, moving it slightly back and forth. “I would say, Mr. President, that this is a deliberate course of provocation. Alexander Colliquin and his compatriots at the Alliance’s Iraq headquarters know we are very vulnerable right now. We are facing a constitutional crisis—”

Curt Levin, the clearly frustrated White House counsel, broke in. “Your use of the word
crisis
implies there is a reasonable legal debate over the effect of the Senate vote. But there simply isn’t! The Senate is empowered to ratify treaties. But the Global Alliance isn’t a treaty. It is a wholesale usurpation of the U.S. Constitution, making our nation and its laws and our three branches of government all ultimately subservient to a unified world governmental body with ten international
regions and with veto power over every significant decision by the United States government.”

“Curt, I know your legal position on this,” President Hewbright responded. “And you know that I share your viewpoint. This Global Alliance initiative is tantamount to an amendment to the U.S. Constitution.”

“Exactly, Mr. President,” Levin shot back. “Which can only be accomplished under Article V of our Constitution in two ways. Either two-thirds of the states call for a constitutional convention—and that’s never happened in American history since the adoption of our federal constitution. Or two-thirds of the Senate and two-thirds of the House approve the proposed amendment and send it to the states for ratification by three-fourths of the states. Sure, the Senate achieved one minor part of that process, but barely, by just one vote, to reach the two-thirds threshold. But the House has been stalled on a procedural vote for approval of the Global Alliance idea as a constitutional amendment. So this so-called ‘treaty’ has only passed first base so far. No further.”

“Mr. President, we’re ignoring the political reality here,” George Caulfield added. His voice was strained, and it carried a tone of urgency. “For good or for bad, the Senate did what they did because our nation is on the brink of financial implosion. And maybe even over the brink. Americans are panicked. We could be entering the most explosive, uncharted epoch in world history. The Senate is betting on the fact that we can gain some security in being part of a single, global governance system—to stabilize the world’s chaotic economies, to create a band of mutual protection, and for some kind of international harmony—”

“And destroying our borders in the process!” Secretary of Defense Roland Allenworth’s voice erupted at a full shout. “And eradicating nearly two hundred and forty years of constitutional sovereignty of this nation.”

“Rollie,” President Hewbright intoned calmly. “You know I share every one of your sentiments. The point here is to figure out if—and, more important, when and how—I order our military to start pushing back against these incursions.”

“The Global Alliance is taking the following position,” Secretary Tyler explained. “First, that America, through the Senate vote of ratification, has effectively joined the Alliance. Second, that the United States has therefore become part of Region One, along with Canada and Mexico, both of which have already agreed to become part of the new global governance scheme. Third, as a result of that we no longer have any national borders. That means that we have no legal standing to oppose the incursion of Alliance troops crossing our borders. So, Mr. President . . .” Tyler exhibited a momentary embarrassment. “That makes you, if you pardon my saying so, a rebel against your own country, according to the Alliance, and an enemy of the world order.”

Hewbright turned to Curt Levin. “Still no hope from the Supreme Court?”

“The justices won’t take up our legal challenge to the Senate vote. The rumor is they’re afraid a vote by such a small portion of the full court now will just create more lack of confidence among the American people. We all know that the membership of the Supreme Court is still a few justices short ever since, well, you know . . .” And he paused to grapple for the right words. “You know what I mean.”

“The Disappearance?” Hewbright interjected. “That’s what everyone is calling it. I call it something else, of course.”

There was an uncomfortable silence in the Oval Office. George Caulfield, Hewbright’s former national campaign manager and now one of the president’s closest advisors, spoke up. Caulfield pursed his lips, visibly struggling for a way to say what had to be said next. “Mr. President. We all know how this mass disappearance—or, to use your word, the Rapture—affected you. Stimulated you into a religious experience.”

“Spiritual birth,” Hewbright added. “Let’s call it what it was. Being born again through a faith in Jesus Christ. Believing that His death on the cross accomplished forgiveness of my sins. And that His rising from the grave three days later proved He was truly the Son of God, who came to bring eternal life to everyone who calls on His name.”

“I understand all of that, Mr. President,” Caulfield interjected quietly. “But unfortunately, so do your political enemies. They think you are now setting national policy by your own religious beliefs. Endangering the Union. Splitting us in half. Practically bringing us to the brink of a civil war.”

Hewbright remained unperturbed. He had heard all of this before. Read it on the Internet news and web television shows. “Has anyone in this room,” he asked, “ever bothered to read the seventh chapter of the Old Testament book of Daniel? The prophecy in verses twenty-three through twenty-five?”

Silence in the room.

“I would suggest you do so. America is one of the few nations that still has old-fashioned printed Bibles even after the worldwide digital transformation of everything to the Internet. I would suggest that you folks see whether your grandmother’s Bible is still up in your attic. Pull it out. Dust it off. And read what God said through His prophet Daniel several thousand years ago about ten kings—or world leaders, you might call them—of ten kingdoms, and see if it doesn’t look like the Global Alliance of ten international regions.”

“Actually,” Secretary of State Tyler said, “I had occasion to read that part of the Bible, Mr. President, and I believe it was at your insistence, not too long ago. What I find interesting is that it also predicts that three of those ten kings—or leaders—will resist this supposed global kingdom, but as a result they will be struck down.” Tyler raised his hand and pointed his index finger straight up. “There’s America. That’s one. And you’ve managed to talk Great Britain into seriously considering a retreat from the Alliance. That would be two. And then
there’s Australia, which also seems receptive to your arguments about withdrawing from the Global Alliance. And that would be three. Of course if Australia doesn’t bolt from the Alliance at your urging, there’s always Canada.”

Tyler leaned back in his chair and swiveled it a bit. “In other words, some of your opponents would say you’re deliberately fashioning a foreign policy designed to bring to pass biblical prophecy. A self-fulfilled prophecy, they would argue.”