Inside Lucifer's War (10 page)

For most people, there isn’t a watershed moment as concrete as this. An accumulation of choices directs their path, sometimes to the point of no return. For me, though, here it is. Is it really a choice, though? I’ve already seen the potential outcomes of my decision. In the end, I feel compelled to move forward . . . without a choice.

“Is everything all right?” Andrew asks as he realizes he’s a few steps ahead of me.

“Yeah, fine. I thought I left my wallet,” I respond.

“His name is Kinsley McKee. No point in asking where he lives. He lives throughout the world,” Andrew says.

“Okay,” I quietly say, thinking that is an odd thing to say before meeting a person.

Andrew startles me by grabbing my arm and turning me to face him. A look of earnestness comes over his face.

“Look, Thomas. You seem a bit outside yourself this morning. I can’t impress upon you enough how well placed and powerful this man is. He knows everyone and has access to resources second to no one. He is very influential. I’ve met him on a few other occasions. I’m not sure why, but he specifically asked about you, and he said it was very important. He can make or break you. You need to get your game face on. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

I look down at his hand holding my arm. “May I have this back now?” I look him dead in the eye with a stern look.

“Oh, sorry. These people make me a bit apprehensive,” he says. He pats me on the shoulder and we continue to the coffee house.

Andrew opens the door, and I immediately feel the cool air. It feels nice. I hadn’t realized how hot it was outside during our walk. Andrew immediately points to a man in the corner and says, “That’s him.”

I don’t need Andrew to point him out, though. He stands out with his attire: blue slacks, blue dress shirt, and an ostentatious Rolex I can see from across the shop. He is talking on a cell phone when he sees us walk in and waves us over. He then looks over at a large man, whom I hadn’t noticed, leaning against the bar along the wall. The man isn’t drinking anything but constantly examines the area. Their exchange is quick, almost unnoticeable. I doubt Andrew saw it. Then the large man’s piercing stare turns toward me.

I can feel Andrew’s nervousness, but I find the whole scene ludicrous. Does this man really believe his life is in danger in a college coffee shop? Does he think two professors could really be so dangerous? I’ve never heard of this man, yet he carries the pretense that he is a very important person. In my mind, he’s trying too hard. But I can tell that Andrew is taking this seriously, so I behave myself.

The man stands up to greet us. He is short, probably five feet eight. He has brown, straight hair that is well cut. He has an engaging smile, dimples, and strong green eyes. Outside of that, he doesn’t have any remarkable characteristics. He is a nice-looking man, but nothing that would make him stand out.

In a slight Scottish accent he says, “Hello, Andrew. It’s been quite awhile.”

Before Andrew can finish his long-winded response, the man turns to me, puts out his hand and says, “Hello, Dr. Fields. I am Kinsley McKee.”

“Hello. I’m told I should be very impressed and honored to meet you, Kinsley,” I say. I can feel Andrew’s gaze of horror at my casual response.

Andrew gives me a strong pat on the back and a hearty laugh. The laugh is not of humor, but of caution.

“No, Thomas. It is I who am impressed and honored to meet a writer and philosopher of your stature. Please, join me. What can I get the two of you to drink?” he asks, pointing out two chairs in front of him.

Before I can tell him that we can wait for the line to thin out a bit, the manager walks over and quietly asks what she can get us. I realize I am in a completely different world. This is not like the weekend, where I found myself in a spiritual world that doesn’t seem real. No, this is a world where people use money to gain favor in even the smallest settings, like a coffeehouse. In all my years of frequenting Starbucks, I have never seen a manager take an order at a table. I’m curious what price tag that carries with it.

In no time, a barista brings us our drinks. No money is exchanged at that point, but I can tell she has already been taken care of by Kinsley. We exchange some brief comments about Austin before he gets to the matter at hand.

“Thomas, I work for a multinational organization that, among other things, holds several fund-raisers each year. We have many fans of yours, and we’re hoping you will speak at our next fund-raiser in Dallas in early October. Actually, it is the same weekend as the Red River Rivalry. We are hosting some parties that weekend, and we would love for you to attend as well. We would compensate you well for your troubles. Everything would be done first class, door-to-door service.”

Andrew jumps in. “I can attest to their level of service.”

We both stare awkwardly at him.

“I’m sorry,” I say, “but I missed the name of your organization.”

“The parent company is a financial and governance shell. It oversees a loose affiliation of various organizations. The one holding the charity in Dallas, the one that should matter to you, is First Orchard. Its sole mission is philanthropic. You can google it. I also brought along some information.” He hands me some marketing material.

“And what charity will be the benefactor of this event in Dallas?” I press. “I apologize for my questions, but it’s important for my reputation.”

Without hesitation, he responds, “Actually, there are a few. They’re all organizations that advocate world peace, something that is dear to your heart. It is dear to your heart, isn’t it, Thomas? Or are you one of those philosophers who speaks about things from a distance and is unwilling to risk any personal stakes in their philosophy?”

“No. Peace is certainly dear to my heart and fundamental to my lectures. I have been on the forefront of that battle for a long time,” I answer.

He cuts me off, “Precisely! That’s why you would be perfect for this event. We clearly want to raise money and awareness for this cause, and we think this is a great kickoff to our fall season. But it’s more than that. And it’s for this other reason we determined that you would be perfect for us. After all, there are many people more recognizable than you whom we could get. If we simply wanted to raise money, there are many actors and actresses available. No, there is another reason. We want to take this message to the heart of the Bible Belt. They preach peace, but at the end of the day, their religion divides and leads to wars. I’ve read your works extensively, Thomas. I agree completely with them. And I’m not the only one. My organization is comprised of people who agree with your work, and we have the resources to make things actually happen. This event will be a public statement that we are tired of sitting on the sidelines while others destroy the bridges we are trying to build.”

“What do you mean ‘make things actually happen’?” I ask.

“Peace and change,” he answers. Changing the subject, he says, “We are willing to pay you twenty thousand for a one-hour lecture. We will take care of everything for you. All you have to do is open your door and step out, and we will provide transportation and the best accommodations. You will also be invited to many exclusive parties that weekend, allowing you to connect with people you may not have had access to previously.”

He looks at his watch, glances at me, and then turns to Andrew. “Naturally, Andrew, if we can convince Dr. Fields to join us, we would like to bring you along to the events as well and take care of you as we always do. You two bachelors can make the most of it.”

I wonder how he knows I’m a bachelor, and then my thought is interrupted by Andrew’s response: “You are always a great host.”

Kinsley turns his stare to me and starts to say something, only to stop as he looks over my shoulder. Just then I feel a touch and hear a woman’s voice.

“I‘m sorry to disturb your meeting, but I wanted to say hi to my newest friend, Tom.”

I look up and see Paige Darby.

“Hi, Paige,” I say. “How’s your ankle?”

“It’s a bit sore, but much better. You see, gentlemen,” she says, looking at Kinsley and Andrew, “Tom was kind enough to carry me to my car when I hurt my ankle at Town Lake yesterday. He was my knight in shining armor.”

Kinsley interjects, “I wouldn’t give him too much credit. I doubt many men would have turned down such an opportunity.”

Paige clearly enjoys the flattery. “Well, if that were true, they would also be inclined to call me to check up on me. But since Tom didn’t, I can only assume my injury was simply a burden to him.” Before I can object, she continues, “But I’m a persistent woman and used to getting my way. That’s why this is such a fortunate run-in. You see, Tom, I don’t think I can leave without getting your number.”

Kinsley laughs. “It would appear, Thomas, you have quite the following. I like this girl.”

I smile. “What’s your cell number, Paige? I’ll call you, and then you’ll have the number on your phone.” I pull out my cell and dial her digits. A catchy pop song ringtone responds. “I must be getting old,” I quip.

Recognizing that we were eager to continue our business, Paige politely excuses herself. “Tom, you can expect a call from me.” She leaves with a smile and rejoins another woman at the counter.

“Bring her to Dallas. Hell, bring them both,” Kinsley remarks. “Texas women. There are none like them,” he says before getting back to business. “Thomas, it’s been a pleasure. Unfortunately, I have a plane to catch. Here’s my card. I need an answer from you by tomorrow. I’ve made my living by seizing opportunities while they are still fresh. I hope you are the same. I’m sure Andrew will attest that my organization can do great things for you and your career. The question is whether you are ready for great things to happen to you. See, you have to want greatness. It doesn’t just fall out of the sky and land on you.”

He stands up, straightens his shirt, and shakes our hands. He pulls me close and says, “You have to make the choice to be great.” And he walks away.

The man at the bar gets the door and follows closely behind Kinsley. I watch them walk toward a Suburban in front of the coffeehouse. The man opens the back door, allowing Kinsley to climb in. The man then goes to the driver’s door. It is a well-practiced routine. They don’t depart immediately, though. Instead, the man steps out of the car with a bottle in his hand. He comes back into the coffeehouse and hands me the bottle.

“Compliments of Mr. McKee. He wants you to know he appreciates your time,” he says in a deep, fitting voice.

It is a commemorative bottle of Early Times mint julep bourbon, the official drink of the Kentucky Derby. I know the bottle well from the bourbon circles I visit online. It is the last year of this artwork, which shows the horses and riders racing along the track.

How did he know I liked bourbon, and how long has he been planning this conversation, I wonder. I turn to Andrew, who seems sad that he didn’t get a gift.

“Did you tell him that I like bourbon?” I ask.

“Not me.” Andrew replies. “If he had asked, I would have told him Scotch so that you would give it to me.”

C
HAPTER 10

The Haunting

Of course, I accepted Kinsley’s offer. I researched First Orchard over the next few weeks. It seems like a legitimate philanthropic organization. The board has many well-placed individuals—CEOs, university presidents, etc.—but nothing you wouldn’t expect to find associated with a respectable organization. What is more interesting to me is what I can’t figure out. What is the parent company? I am sure Kinsley mentioned a parent company, but everything I have found suggests that First Orchard is a stand-alone entity. Still, from a career perspective, I see nothing but good things coming from my speaking at the event. Andrew visits me often to emphasize what an opportunity this is and to ensure I don’t back out of it. I have no doubt he received some sort of finder’s fee for lining up my conversation with Kinsley. I’m also sure that he will get another payoff when I actually speak at the event. As I said, Andrew is a friend only to the extent we can help each other.

During this time I haven’t had any new encounters with Lucifer. As with most things, as time passes, I question what really happened that night. I have read about people having dreams that foretell the future, and I’m increasingly convinced that was what I experienced. The more I think about it, though, the more it seems absurd to me. To be face to face with Lucifer and his minions is simply ridiculous to even imagine. My daily activities also help put some mental distance on our meeting. I am burying myself in my classes, developing my speech for Dallas, and organizing the research for a new book. But the one thing I’m having trouble reconciling is the burn on my arm. It has neither healed nor scarred over. Most of the time, I can’t feel it, but there are times I feel a shooting pain in my arm without prompting. Maybe it is a reminder. Nevertheless, I try not to let the thought linger.

Lucifer may not have been haunting me these past weeks, but Stacie has. I haven’t seen her in almost a month, but she is constantly on my mind. I think of calling her, but I can’t muster the courage to make the call. I want to ask her to go with me to Dallas in a couple of weeks, but I know that’s even more absurd than having a conversation with Lucifer. Not only would she not go on a trip with me, but with the purpose of the trip being in part to speak against her faith, she would definitely not go.