Air Force One, Part Three (6)
“But, I tell you, it does not need to end. Somehow, in the shape of the aircraft, we have been given one last chance to mend the world that we began. We must not let this chance escape us. We must seize it, and return with what it offers. “Then we will give them back the lives that we always intended for them. Then they will return to us.” The innkeeper looks into the Colonel’s eyes again for a long moment, and finally nods. Not even the sound of the rain on the tent canvas has been able to lull her to sleep, so when a man approaches and lifts the flap he finds Anne already sitting up in her bunk. “Who is it?” she demands quickly, and the man almost drops the flap again. “It’s Kelley, ma’am,” the shape at the tent flap whispers. “And, uh — you might want to keep it down. But — are you decent ma’am? Me and some of the boys wanted to have a word. Could you come out?” “Oh, forgive me Mr. Kelley!” she replies quietly. “Of course!” He moves out of her way as she emerges into the cooling October air. The cloud cover has begun to break up enough to let some moonlight through, and she makes out other men standing around him. Jack is there, as well as Bob Hewitt and the quiet, bear-sized man whose name she doesn’t know. “Is this wise, gentlemen?” she asks quietly. The tents are pitched close together and she cannot see far enough into the night to know how near the soldiers might be. “Hell, it’s OK,” Bob Hewitt answers. “These guys don’t seem to much give a damn what we do as long as we stay around the tents. A lot of guys been standing around smokin’ or going to take a — you know,” he stammers, “to relieve themselves.” “I guess they figure we’re just good little lambs,” the big man says. “And we figure that—” “We can bust out of here anytime we feel like it,” the Bear continues unstoppably. “Yeah, but just keep it down, right?” Kelley whispers. “There’s no sense taking chances. Not if these bastards are — who Jack says they are. And we figure he’s probably right. You don’t get a real good feeling from them, you know? No good at all.” Anne looks at Jack. “I told them about what I saw in Wisconsin,” Jack says to her. “When my family was hiding out there.” His eyes are black in the faint light. “We been listening to Jack here, ma’am,” Kelley resumes. “And we been thinking about what you said, about your place up north and all. And damned if —.” He stops himself. “Sorry ma’am. I mean, it sure looks like we could use a place to go, with the way things are working out around here. If you meant what you said about them being able to use guys like us.” The wind gusts, shaking tent cloth, smelling of moist leaves and the night. “Of course I meant it!” she says. “Can you really come? All four of you?” “Oh, no ma’am!” Kelley answers immediately. “I mean to say—” he looks to the others for help, then back to her. “All the boys are in on it. I mean, if that’s, you know—” “If you’ll have us,” Jack says. “Everyone?” she is speechless for long seconds before finding her breath again. “Oh my God, yes. Everyone.” Tears come easily, and she needn’t wipe them away or turn her back now. The night forgives her weakness. She only blinks to be able to see as well as the fast-breaking clouds allow, and looks directly at Jack Arnet. “We need every last one.” At first Mick thinks that the dining room is empty, and takes a few slow steps beyond the threshold. Then there is motion, and he sees Page. All five Secret Service agents are sitting together at a far table, as still as statues, with cups and a coffee pot between them. The lead agent tilts his head minutely, indicating an empty chair, and the innkeeper crosses the room to take a seat among them. Another of the agents pours coffee for him and he takes it, not very warm now but still welcome. “I think that we will be traveling together, for a while,” Page says. The innkeeper looks at him. “Why do you care?” he asks. “You can’t really believe anyone’s still alive up there. Why not give Tennen your passwords and let the Air Force handle it? And if you are sure, where are your other men? Why isn’t this your show?” Page breathes audibly, and then stays silent for a long while. “We were at the White House when the attack came,” he says at last. “I commanded the presidential security detail, which at that time had grown to one hundred and fifteen agents. When we discovered that the National Guard and Army bases had been subverted, we played our final cards. “We were able to convince the Foreign Command leadership that the President believed the White House could be held. They focused their attack there, but in fact I had deployed two thirds of my people to secure Andrews.” “But they were simply too strong. They overwhelmed our outer defenses quickly enough to realize — I suspect that it was Walker himself who understood — our ruse. Yet, even so, they would have been too late except that somehow Walker had secured a source of nuclear weapons. Very likely from foreign suppliers.” Page sips the cold coffee, his eyes far away. “Seventy five of my men and women died in when the bomb destroyed Andrews and, we could only assume, Air Force One as well. The Vice President insisted on making his broadcast and ordered us to buy him time to do it. So — we fought in the hallways. “When the Vice President was wounded, we were barely able to get him to our escape route. One of several that had been engineered secretly. I was expecting at every moment that the White House would suffer the same fate as Andrews. I still cannot understand why he didn’t —” Agent Page frowns into that distance for long seconds before recalling himself. “We five,” he says to Mick, “are all that remain.” “We have often felt that we should have died then, in the halls of the White House. Now, we know why we were spared. And now — not even the great Colonel Tennen will prevent us from boarding that aircraft.” “Why would he prevent you?” Mick asks. Page considers the innkeeper for a long moment. “Mr. Goulish,” he begins, “I have told you one small part of one aspect of one battle. The full conflict is much more — far-reaching than you know. And far older. I once believed that I at least understood all the forces involved in this conflict. Now I know that I do not. “I am surprised that you, who are—” he pauses, frowning again. “I am surprised that you have become involved in this. But I no longer believe that I am wise enough to see all outcomes. I will not resist your involvement. “But please understand,” he continues. “This undertaking is much more dangerous than you understand. There is vastly more at risk, for yourself and for us all, than you can understand. “Come, if you will,” he says, “but move as cautiously as you can.” After a long moment, Mick looks down to finish his cold coffee. Swallowing it, he grimaces a little. The Wolverine may have been known far and wide, but its fame was never due to the quality of its coffee. He sets the cup down and blows out his breath. “May I use a radio?” he asks Page. “We have made contact, sir,” the soldier says. “Excellent,” Tennen says, looking up from the desk. “And have you determined the aircraft’s flight pattern?” “Not yet, sir,” the soldier blinks. “It is — complex.” “Find it tonight,” he commands. The soldier flinches, and bows shallowly. “An sek, lord,” he says quietly. “Peace,” Tennen holds up a hand. “There will be time enough to speak your tongue again, when we have set our boot on the throats of peten bet betek. These filthy rebels. When we have driven them again like cattle before us. Until then — ” “Choose half the men for the boarding party,” he says. “I will accompany them. You will take charge of the others, and the prisoners. There will be no executions until we send word that we have secured the aircraft. Afterwards, you will await my word. We will guide you to the most significant weapons sites. I will send others from the aircraft, as they can be spared, to other locations. “And when we let it be known what we have done,” the older man says, “those of your kind who are scattered or hiding will flock to us. And you will lead them. Now go. Ufet hena per’a.” The soldier’s eyes shine as he bows again, and departs. Tennen remains at the desk for some moments after the door has closed. Gradually the strength and certainty of command leave him, and his features draw taut with fear. Or they would, for any who could read fear’s faint signs on him. None can, of course. He sent the last of those to their deaths long, long ago. But the next step in his progress — that has proven far more difficult. He has been resisted by forces that have seemed to remain forever, maddeningly, just out of reach of his perception. Now, on the very verge of final defeat, it would seem that an equally final victory has miraculously come within his grasp. Yet now he is subtly troubled, like a man in his sleep by the sound of a snake. He sighs and forces the dark thoughts aside. Very probably, they stem from no source more remote than the knowledge that his masters will now demand his report. And they, too, in their own way, have made it exceptionally difficult for him to join their ranks. His tasks have always been almost, but never quite, impossible. Now, at least, it must all come to some end. Since the catastrophe, he has become their last hope in this world. And a forlorn hope it has seemed, until this strange discovery of the aircraft. If he should succeed, in this final moment, he will indeed join his masters’ ranks, and not as the least of them. If he fails, he will be their food. Crossing the room, Tennen silently locks the door and returns to the desk. He dims the foolish metal lamp and extinguishes it. In the near-darkness he carefully removes a parcel from the desk drawer, unlocks it, and removes a tall candle and its golden base. The candle is intricately inscribed on its entire surface with hieroglyphs: tiny schematic snakes, birds, ocean waves, and figures. His hands shakes slightly as he places the candle in its holder, so he stops and forces himself to breathe deeply. Then he slowly crosses to the other side of the desk, and after many seconds of calming thought strikes a match and holds it to the perfect, slender wick. The wick immediately lights with a fierce white light and burns with a strangely tall, hissing flame, as though its fire is governed by the physics of a slightly different world. Tennen quickly falls to his knees before it and bows his head, covering his face with his hands. “Homage to you, my Lords,” he speaks rapidly in a language still more antique than that of his soldiers, his hands still carefully shielding his eyes. “Homage to you and upon your names, which you grant to me to know. Cast me not down, Lords, upon your slaughtering knives; neither bring forth my weakness, but fill me with your light and truth.” After speaking, he remains motionless, hardly daring to breathe. At last, with the faintest impression of sound like the rasp of wind-blown sand on stone in another universe, the candle’s flame replies. “You have done well thus far,” it whispers. “Do not then stumble at the journey’s end, and your reward is assured. After you have used him, the man is yours to consume. But Page and his fools must be destroyed utterly.” “Forgive me, Lords,” he speaks, his voice strained, “but the presence of Page and his warriors—” “Do you question us?” the flame rasps threateningly. “I am nothing Lords! Yet their appearance now—” “Is meaningless!” the flame insists. “In their extremity their hope is only to bluff and sow doubt. You have power aplenty to defeat them now. We are victorious, and have closed the channels they might have used. Go forth fearlessly and deliver unto us the prize of this world!” “Without fail, my Lords!” The candle extinguishes itself with a snap, its wax and wick consumed with no trace but the blackening of the golden base. As night returns to the room, Tennen breathes deeply. The ancient man lowers his hands and raises amber eyes into the darkness. To be continued. The previous two parts of Air Force One, as well as its predecessor novella Johnny Reb, are available at www.storymania.com, or by emailing the author at mgoulish@aol.com .
Copyright © 2000 Michael Goulish |