Sunrise: Wrath & Righteousness: Episode Ten (8 page)

Three-quarters of an inch. Accurate enough to do this job.

He eyed the two men and small boy through his lens, then laid the rifle carefully to the side and touched a small button on the clip attached to his lapel. “I have the boy,” he stated clearly.

“You are certain it is him?”

The soldier wouldn’t have made such a mistake. He knew the danger to himself if he’d been wrong. His punishment for making an inaccurate call and diverting the other forces from their own searches would have been sure and swift.

No, the boy’s face was intricately and clearly etched into his mind. So was the face and outline of the fat one. It was part of the art of long-range sniping; accurately identifying the target. “I have him,” he repeated curtly.

The radio in his ear was silent for a full half minute. “We are ten minutes away,” his commander finally said. “Keep the target in sight. Kill the fat one if you have to, but
don’t
lose sight of the boy. If you have to, expose your position, but
do not
lose the boy!”

The soldier listened but didn’t answer.

“Pile Driver wants the boy alive!” the voice reiterated.

Pile Driver. The daily codeword for the king. The soldier listened, then dropped his hand to pick up his rifle once again.

“Confirm!” he was directed.

He quickly lifted his hand to his lapel and pushed the transmit button. “Confirmed,” he replied.

Adjusting his weapon, he watched the fat man through the scope. At this range it was as easy to watch him through the shooting scope as with his binoculars and quicker if he had to shoot him, which a significant part of him hoped he’d have the chance to do.

Nothing thrilled the shooter like the sight of an exploding target. Didn’t matter too much who or what it was; man, woman, animal or child, the surge of adrenaline was very much the same.

Brucius Marino leaned against the desk. Sara Brighton stood at one of the windows of the large and finely furnished executive office located on the second floor. Behind her there was a sitting area with two opposing leather couches and four wing chairs. To her right there was a huge wooden desk, an American flag behind it. A row of dark windows looked out on the military base. At one time the office had belonged to the base commander but no one had seen him in more than a week so it had been commandeered. Still, she felt like an intruder in the stranger’s office.

Leaning against the office window, she looked out. The shades were open, one of the windows even, and a late-night breeze was blowing gently against the wooden blinds.

They weren’t hiding any more, not literally and not figuratively, there was just no reason any longer. The men in Raven Rock knew they were here now, knew what they were up to, knew what they intended. The end game was close now, upon them really, and there was no purpose or advantage in pretending any longer. The path split in two sudden forks before them and the nation had to choose.

She glanced nervously at the wall. The clock stood still. She checked the watch that had been given to her by one of Marino’s aides, then sighed. Time was passing agonizingly slowly. Her mouth was so dry she had to work to swallow and her stomach was tied in knots.

Behind her, Brucius Marino adjusted his weight against his desk, sometimes reading, sometimes staring off in thought, but mostly watching Sara out of the corner of his eye.

She turned and looked at him. He seemed completely relaxed.

“They’ve been deliberating for almost six hours,” she said.

He nodded to her. “A little more than that.”

Sara thought of Justice Jefferson, his pride and exaggerated sense of worth. Were the other Justices like him? She didn’t know. Did they have the courage to do the right thing? Did they even have the wisdom to know what the right thing was to do? Again, she didn’t know.

By now, the men inside Raven Rock would know that Justice Jefferson had left their compound. By now, they would have realized that Marino had gathered the two remaining U.S. Supreme Court justices and brought them out to Offutt. By now, they would surely understand that the three Justices were meeting and that they would soon decide which path the nation ought to take. She knew their future was hanging in the balance, depending on what the three surviving members of the U.S. Supreme Court finally said.

Marino watched her, his thoughts much the same as hers.

If the Justices found against him, he didn’t know what he’d do. He wouldn’t have many options. But whatever action he took, he would remain within the law.

If, on the other hand, they found against the men in Raven Rock, Marino knew that they would fight him hand, tooth and nail. No way would they give up power without a fight. They’d destroy the country if they had to. For them, so much the better if they did. They’d do anything to stop him, no matter what the Justices said.

Which was why he was preparing for open war.

Sara put her arms around herself as she stared absently out the window. There were a few security lights around the base entry points and a couple lighted windows in the headquarters complex but beyond the perimeter fence that lined the base it was utterly dark, the stars and moon hidden by a layer of clinging clouds.

“Are you nervous?” she asked Brucius as she turned around.

Marino looked at her and nodded. “I’ve had a knot of fear inside my stomach since before the nuclear explosion over Washington D.C. It’s pretty much been the only thing I’ve felt for many weeks.”

“Funny, you don’t seem nervous.”

He hunched his shoulders. “All the fear’s been squeezed out of me, I guess.”

Sara interlaced her fingers nervously. “I wonder how things are going with . . . you know, Sam and the others.”

“Sara, if I’d heard anything I would have told you. I’m not keeping any secrets. Last we heard from them, they were on the helicopter making their way toward the village where the boy was supposed to meet us. Truly, if I had any information, especially any bad information, I would have told you.”

“I know you would.”

They fell into silence. Brucius moved behind the desk and started looking through the drawers until he found a small key. Standing, he walked to a locked cabinet, opened the etched glass doors and pulled down a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels bourbon. “You want something to drink?” he asked her.

She shook her head.

He started to open the liquor then changed his mind, screwed the lid back on and put the bottle back. Locking the door, he moved silently back to the desk.

The door to the office was open and there was constant traffic up and down the hall. Someone appeared in the doorway and both of them turned instantly, their eyes expecting. “Have they made a decision?” Sara blurted out before Brucius could even say anything. The young lieutenant looked at her, uncertain what she was even talking about. Information regarding the three Justices had been very tightly controlled.

Sara shot a quick look to Marino and looked embarrassed. “Sorry,” she almost said before he cut her off.

“Yes?” Marino asked the lieutenant.

“Sir, would you like me to bring you up some sandwiches?”

Brucius motioned toward Sara. “You must be hungry. Why don’t you let them get you something?”

She shook her head. She was far too nervous to eat.

Brucius waited, giving her a chance to change her mind, then turned to the young lieutenant. “You got any tuna fish?”

“I’m sure we could find some, sir.”

“That’d be nice. With horseradish sauce and mayonnaise. And lots of Tabasco™.”

Sara smiled. It reminded him of her husband and her sons. In her mind, she could hear them in the kitchen of the old house in Virginia knocking down plates of chips and salsa sprinkled with the various hot sauces Neil had collected from around world, some of them deadly to a normal person with any taste buds left.

Brucius studied her. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

She shrugged her shoulders. “Just thinking.”

They fell silent once again. Marino bent down and placed the key back inside the desk drawer. Sara walked toward the door and glanced down the hall that ended at a set of double doors. Two guards were posted there, submachine guns (more effective if less imposing) held at the ready in their hands. She watched them, knowing the Justices were working behind the heavy wooden doors. Staring down the hallway, thinking of the court and the direction they would take the country, thinking of the men who had conspired to steal their freedoms, her husband’s whispered words came again into her mind, the sudden warning he had told her in the darkness of the night.

“
There are men around the president who want to destroy our country
,” he had said.

She had stared at him, unbelieving.

“
He has put them in position within the government but he doesn’t know who they really are or what they’re willing to do. They will kill him if they have to. Our government survival isn’t assured
.”

Looking back, she realized even her husband hadn’t understood how dangerous the conspirators really were.

Pulling her head back into the room, she glanced down at her watch again.

Sighing, she took a breath.

Why was time passing so
slowly
?”

Omar turned to the village leader. He was a tall man, thin, his arms nimble but strong. He’d had a hard life – life on the mountain was hard – but his trials hadn’t hurt him; quite the opposite, they’d made him softer, more patient, more willing to suffer, more inclined to do good. His faith was strong, his gratitude for every day of life full and genuine. He had children of his own now and he loved them as much as any man.

Which was the only hope that Omar had; this man’s faith in his God and His love for His creations, especially those who were small and vulnerable.

But it could go either way. The love for his children could lead to compassion or it could lead to fear. If his compassion proved the greater, he would allow sanctuary for the child. If fear for his family was stronger, he would send them both away.

Omar held his breath and waited.

The sun was barely breaking over the sheer mountain peaks behind him. The ground was squishy and soft beneath his feet from three days of constant rain. The air was cool and clear like only the mountain air could be, cloudless and clean, with visibility of a hundred miles or more. Looking around him, Omar felt suddenly exposed. For the past week, he’d been traveling under cover of night or clouds, the fog and low clouds on the mountains as thick as the night, but he was standing in the open now, looking down on the village. He knew that it was foolish and he glanced toward the hut, wishing they were inside.

The village leader remained silent. Omar couldn’t wait any longer. “Sanctuary,” he pleaded.

The leader shook his head. “I have a family. They’d be in danger. It wouldn’t be right to jeopardize their safety. I’m sorry, my good friend, but the answer is no.”

Omar stared at him, his mouth open. He wanted to take the village leader by the clothes and shake him. He wanted to smash him in the face. He wanted to scream and curse him.
He wanted him to see!
This child is our future, the future of our world. Everything you hold dear and holy is hanging in the wind. He is the only hope of a future kingdom in Saudi Arabia not based on insanity and rage. The Americans won’t let Abdullah survive inside his kingdom. They will come for him. Yes, he has wounded them, but the Americans are still alive. They’ll retaliate. They’ll surely kill us. This child is our only hope!

Fighting the rage inside him, Omar didn’t say anything. Glaring at the village leader, he thought for several moments, his heart beating in his chest. But as he looked at him, seeing the fearful expression on his face, he realized the leader wasn’t going to change his mind.

Omar glanced down at the boy who was standing at his side, then put his hand on his shoulder and guided him away. Turning, they started walking up the winding trail that led back into the mountains. Forty steps ahead of them, the trees grew thick. Beyond the first grove of evergreens, the trail dropped twenty meters toward a mountain stream. On the other side of the gushing water, the trail climbed out of the streambed and quickly disappeared in a thick forest of pine and mountain oak.

Looking behind him, Omar felt a sense of anxiety. Too long in the open. Too long to be seen. He felt a web of fear running through him and he fought the sudden urge to run.

The village leader stood beside his hut and watched them go, his eyes sad, his lips pulled into a frown.

Omar caught his eye in a final farewell, then took the child’s hand and pulled him closer. “We must hurry!” he declared.

*******

Above him, hidden in the rocks and low shrubs, the king’s sniper spoke into the radio transmitter attached to his lapel. “Target is exiting the area,” he announced urgently.

The radio buzzed in his ear. “Confirm the target is leaving the immediate location.”

“Affirmative. Target is moving back up toward the mountains.”

He heard a vicious curse, as angry and foul as anything his language had to offer. “You
must not
let them reach the mountains,” his commander said. “We’ve been looking for them for weeks now. If they make it to the mountains, we’ll never find them.
We can’t operate up there
!”

The sniper simply waited. There was nothing more for him to say.

“Is the escort staying with the target?” the voice in his radio demanded.

“Yes, the fat one is staying with the boy.”

“Do whatever it takes to stop them. We’re still seven minutes away.”

“I can’t stop them without killing him.”

“Do whatever you must to stop the fat one, but leave the boy alive. You know our instructions. We
must
save him for the king!”