Inside Lucifer's War (14 page)

While reading, I fall asleep. I wake up at three in the morning when Andrew stumbles into our suite. I notice the folder next to me with some of the papers strewn about and the flash drive. I stuff everything into the folder and shove it under my pillow. I hope he doesn’t notice the missing folder from his briefcase. I hear him singing in the kitchen. I decide that he’s probably not very attentive at the moment. A few minutes later he slams his door. He will be fast asleep soon. Self-consciously, I place the folder under my mattress.

By the time Bruce calls the next morning at eight o’clock sharp, letting us know that we will be leaving for the fairgrounds at nine, I’ve already exercised, showered, shaved, and dressed. I feel rested and ready for the day.

Andrew, on the other hand, is the opposite. It is clear that the phone call awakened him. He stumbles into the shared living room and aims himself toward the coffee brewer. I anticipated his mental state, and a hot cup is waiting for him. He doesn’t acknowledge my effort. In fact, he barely acknowledges my existence as he staggers back to his bedroom. I hear the shower turn on. I briefly think about replacing the documents in his case while he showers, but I decide against it. I doubt he will notice they are missing.

Andrew rushes out a few minutes before nine o’clock, looking like a different person. His spirits are up, and his appearance is in total order. “You missed a fantastic party last night,” he says.

I simply respond, “Let’s go.”

In the elevator, Andrew’s excitement from last night continues to grow. “You should see this redhead I met last night. “Smokin’ ” barely describes her. I’m going to see her at the party tonight. If you hear anything coming from my room tonight, just turn up your TV and don’t bother us.”

He’s clearly proud of himself. My lack of interest, however, doesn’t dissuade him from sharing even more.

“I almost forgot. She has a blonde friend. Amber. Or Alice. Ah, hell, I can’t remember. Regardless, she is smokin’ also and apparently heard your speech last night. She really wants to meet you. Score, baby! See, I’m always looking out for you.”

After we get to the fairgrounds and eventually arrive at the stadium, the Red River Rivalry game between Texas and Oklahoma flies by. It’s a rush of colors: burnt orange, white, and red. It’s an afternoon of pageantry, screaming, cheering, boos, bands, signs, and football. In the end, Texas wins a close game. This leaves about two-thirds of the people in our box in a good mood. Most of my time is spent meeting people, snacking, and enjoying some very decent liquor. I pretend to watch some of the game, but not enough to get a sense of what happened.

After the game, we spend some time walking around the fairgrounds. The Texas state fair is the only state fair I’ve ever attended, but I imagine Texas does it unlike any other state. Big Tex, for example, looms over the fair. This giant cowboy stands fifty-two feet tall, wears size seventy boots, has a seventy-five gallon hat, and booms out, “Howdy, folks!” The fair also has the Texas Star, purportedly the largest Ferris wheel in North America. And they have the most kinds of fried foods in the world, which I avoid.

It doesn’t take Andrew long to get bored with the average folks around us and the fair atmosphere. He is anxious to get back to the upscale climate he understands.

Bruce returns us to the hotel. When we arrive at the hotel, Bruce steps out of the car and hands both of us a card with his cell number on it. “Remember, if you need anything or you have any concerns, call me first.” Am I imagining or did he look at me when he spoke those words?

Going into the suite, I’m concerned Andrew might discover the missing papers. I’ve come up with an excuse if he does. I will play on his ego and let him know how much he intrigued me with his investigation and remind him that he was too busy with the redhead for me to ask for them. I think he would buy that, and it is partly true. It never becomes an issue, though. He goes into his room for a nap and then showers before the party.

I go into my room, shutting the door behind me, and turn on the television, though I don’t pay any attention to it. I open my laptop and resume my research on the Principal. It is a wasted effort, though. I don’t find out anything more about this secret organization. I look at the flash drive but decide not to look at its contents yet.

What I come to understand is that if Lucifer had not been directing me to do this, I would make this my last engagement with this organization. In the back of my mind I’m hoping Lucifer won’t require me to keep working with them. But based on everything he said, I know that won’t be the case. Somehow and in some way, the Antichrist will emerge from this organization.

“Thomas! Let’s leave in about thirty minutes. I want to get there early,” Andrew yells through my door, disrupting my research and thoughts on the Principal.

I quickly put everything under the mattress again. I take a short shower and throw on some business casual clothes prior to going upstairs to the party. Andrew is pumped about his opportunity and about mine.

“You and Alicia should hit it off. I mean, if I didn’t have Tess, I would go after her.”

“Go after who? Is it Alice, Alicia, or . . . What was the other . . . Oh, yeah, Amber.” I pretend disinterest.

“We’ll know soon enough,” he says as we step out of the elevator.

The room is huge. It is long, with a band playing on a stage in the middle. Across from the band are steps on either side that lead to a balcony and walkway above the main floor. There are tables scattered throughout. There are also several bars stationed throughout the room, including one in the upstairs area. On either end of the room are some huge screens where people are playing video games. There are other smaller televisions showing some college football games. The room is somewhat dark, but it has well-placed lighting. Behind the band are huge windows overlooking the hotel lobby. Throughout the room, chaffing dishes and other food stations are set up. There is no shortage of food: fruit, pork medallions, chicken, shrimp, fajitas, nachos, salad, and so much more.

In his excited state, Andrew moves quickly through one of the bars, unaware that he has left me at the first stop. The bar is empty, so I dare not pass up this opportunity. I order my bourbon and Coke and chat briefly with the bartender. He is older, maybe in his midsixties.

“I know this may sound rude, so forgive me, but aren’t you a bit experienced to be working so late at parties?” I ask.

He smiles, “You can say it. I’m old. Heck, I can’t nap anymore without my wife sticking a mirror under my nose to see if I’m breathing. Have you ever woken up with a mirror under your nose and an old lady about a foot from your face? That’ll kill you sure enough.”

“I can see that would give you a fright,” I reply with a laugh. “I’m sure she’s lovely, though.”

“You know, the truth is, I love her dearly. There’s only three things I fear at this stage in my life—fear of the Lord, fear of having to bury one of my kids, and fear of my wife dying before me. I’d be lost without her.”

“You apparently haven’t heard who I am?” I tell him, unsure of why I would open up to him.

“No sir. I haven’t,” he responds.

“Let’s just say that I am famous for two things: for philosophy and politics that refute God and for getting around with the ladies. I’m not sure I have quite the grasp of your fears,” I say.

“Everybody fears something. What do you fear?” he asks.

“I have nightmares where I am trapped in a place without bourbon or women,” I laugh as I walk on.

“I hope you never find yourself lacking in those areas,” the man says.

After that, I slowly wander around the room, stopping at the video game boards to watch two men destroy themselves in a first-person shooter. I recall a poster that read “Show me someone good at video games, and I’ll show you someone who has wasted much of their life.” Next to them are two women playing video tennis, simulating the tennis motions without the use of joysticks. Bored with that, I stand at a high table near the band. They are good. They’re playing some Simon and Garfunkel, but earlier they had played some recent pop. Near as I can tell, four members can play their instruments or carry the lead vocal. Two are women and two are men.

I’m enjoying the music when I feel a strong hand on my left shoulder. Bishop.

“Ah, hello, Bishop. Is it still Bishop or have you adopted a new name from a more recent killing?” I say with all the sarcasm I can muster. I know I shouldn’t egg him on, but I can’t help myself. The simple way he carries himself puts me on edge.

“Just call me Professor,” he says, matching my level of indignation. “Kinsley asked if you would join him upstairs for a moment. There are some guests he would like for you to meet.”

I follow Bishop up the stairs to the second level. We’re met at the stairs by Andrew.

“Gentlemen, where are we going?” he asks.

Before I can say anything, Bishop says, “Mr. McKee would like for Dr. Fields to meet some guests. Dr. Fields will be back down shortly. I’m sure you understand, Dr. Mayfield.”

Andrew comments, “No worries. Thomas, we’ll be over near the corner bar. Come find me when you get done with the Principal meeting.”

This catches Bishop’s attention. He quickly asks, “What did you say?”

Andrew, realizing his blunder, catches himself. “Following you, it looks like Thomas is getting sent to the principal’s office. I hope he doesn’t get detention.” But Bishop doesn’t smile. Andrew continues, “I guess you have to be in academia to think it’s funny. Trust me, though, it’s fricking hilarious.”

I try to help. “I have to agree with Bishop on this one. It’s really not that funny,” I say.

With that bit of exchange behind us, I’m ushered into a room that’s not noticeable from the lower level. Bishop stays outside as I go in. Immediately, Kinsley greets me. He’s been sitting near the end of a long, oval table. He is surrounded by six other men.

“Dr. Fields. What a pleasure! I’d like to introduce you to some of my colleagues. They are all very impressed with your work,” he says.

Kinsley leads me counterclockwise around the table. I quickly notice that all the men appear to be of different nationalities. “This is Vijay Chopra, Leonardo Vazquez, William Schilo, Michael Evans, Victor Takahashi, and Peter Morozov,” he says. “Please have a seat. We’ll only take a moment. I’ll be brief. First, absolutely nothing leaves this room. Do you understand?”

“Sure,” I respond.

“Dr. Fields, this is not a trivial request,” he says. “When I say nothing, I mean nothing. Not the names of people. Not what they look like. And not the conversation. Nothing to no one. This cannot be shared with even your best friends. Not to jolly ole Andrew. Not to some blonde downstairs. Not to Mike Fischer or any other friend. There are eight of us in this room. I know my colleagues will not share this. So if it becomes public knowledge, we all know who was the source. This isn’t personal. It is business.”

His mentioning Mike catches me off guard. I try not to look stunned, but it is almost impossible. I can’t help wondering how he knows about Mike. And if they know about Mike, what else do they know? Did Paige pass them this information? How could she have known? When we met her on the trail, I only provided her with his first name, and we never talked about him afterward. No, there must be other sources. I want to run out of the room. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to hear what they have to say. I glance at the door, knowing that I cannot leave. When I boarded the plane in Austin, my fate was sealed.

Just then the door opens, and Greer Stavros enters. He is a native Greek, US national, well-known financier worth billions. He is an outspoken Jew turned atheist and a renowned champion of liberal causes. He has openly stated that one of his missions is to bankrupt and destroy the conservative party in America. He has been accused of funneling money in the form of aid into third-world countries that results in political and social reengineering.

“Good evening, Mr. Stavros. I hope you’ve found everything satisfactory,” Kinsley says as if he were a hotel concierge. But Greer ignores him.

“Dr. Fields,” the billionaire benefactor says with a surprisingly heavy Greek accent, “it is a pleasure to meet you. I enjoyed your speech last night, but I think it lacked the passion I’ve seen in your writings.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” I respond. “I’m sorry it didn’t live up to my articles, but I’m flattered that you have read my work.”

“Kinsley!” Greer says turning to my former host. “I need a word with you outside. It should only take a minute.”

“Yes sir,” Kinsley responds without hesitation.

Greer turns to me. “I hope we can count on you in the future, Dr. Fields. We’ve got to put an end to these rabid right-wing evangelicals who are destroying this country and spreading their propaganda across this globe. Christians and Jews have spread too many lies to get the world to focus mostly on Muslims. While the world looks at Muslims as the greatest threat to global peace, Jews and Christians continue to weave their webs. We need a man like you. Do consider agreeing to what these gentlemen will ask of you.”

After that, he steps out the door. I look around the table and feel the uncomfortable silence.

“Wow, Greer Stavros. He was shorter than I expected.” My attempt at levity proves unsuccessful. However, it isn’t long before Kinsley rejoins the group.

He says, “I hope Mr. Stavros’s appearance gives you some indication of our level of commitment. We don’t want a response at this moment, but I want you to consider our proposal. We want October to be your last month at UT, at least for an extended period. Call it a sabbatical. We will arrange it with the dean and the president so that you leave on good terms. We’ll make a sizable donation in your name that should more than cover a couple of visiting professors. Starting in January, you will work for us for a year. Longer if things work out. We will triple your salary and pay all your expenses.”