Wired (13 page)

Matthew didn't say much. He didn't feel like talking and let the conversation drop. Jennifer apparently didn't mind. She seemed
to be as comfortable with the silence as with talking. They pushed on through the night as if they'd traveled this new route
a thousand times.

Matt kept glancing out of the corner of his eye. Strange he'd never really noticed Jennifer before. Her blue eyes sparkled
and she had beautiful blonde hair. Occasionally she noticed his glance and smiled, making him feel more relaxed. Jennifer
had the ability to put anyone at ease. Matt couldn't help being attracted to her.

After winding through an industrial park, the street turned into a narrow road ending in front of a large three-story brick
warehouse. Most of the windows were opaque, giving the ancient building an unsettling appearance framed against the black
sky. Overhead the moon cast a crimson glow over the scene. A few cars were parked along the train tracks, but the rest of
the parking lot was empty. They pulled up and got out.

Appearances said the old warehouse had been used for many things before becoming a storage building for crates of merchandise
waiting for shipment around the country. Boxes were stacked up on top of each other and many of the windows had steel bars
over black painted panes. It nearly took a guide to lead someone through the maze of crates filling the dusty building, but
Jennifer walked quickly almost as if she knew where she was going. With few lights on, the entire structure glowed eerily.
Walking through the antiquated warehouse felt more like a journey through a haunted house.

Matt silently followed Jennifer until they turned the final corner behind a pile of refrigerator crates and found a group
of fifteen students standing around talking to each other. Matthew didn't know any of them.

“Hey, Jen! Great to see you.” A tall student gave her a hug. “I see you brought a friend.” The young man kept smiling.

“Meet Matt Pack,” Jennifer said.

“Welcome to New Seekers!” The student extended his hand, but didn't give a name. “I believe you're a freshman. Am I right?”

“Yes,” Matt said. “You're right on target.”

“Good. Hope you enjoy the group.” He waved and backed away, turning to another person to talk.

“Thank you,” Matt said awkwardly.

The young man disappeared and other students came by. Anonymity seemed to be the order of the day. With equal enthusiasm,
they shook Matt's hand, but no one gave their name. While they talked casually, their questions probed Matt's motivation for
attending. Eventually the chatter of the group settled down and the students sat down on top of some of the smaller boxes.
Matthew looked around the large warehouse and studied the people who comprised the New Seekers group. Most of the group looked
like average college students. A few older people sat on the outer edge and listened as the meeting unfolded. One woman with
black hair had an unusually striking appearance. Matt didn't remember ever seeing anyone quite like her. The rest didn't look
any different form a group meeting in Matt's dormitory.

“We don't announce our location,” the leader began, “because of security reasons. We don't want anyone to run into trouble
for being part of our discussions. We're not strange, but some people might consider our topics to be on the exotic side.”

Members of the group laughed.

“You have to get to know us before we share our names. After all, you might not like us.”

The kids laughed again. Everyone seemed to be quite at home.

“We obviously live in troubled times and that requires more care on our part,” the leader continued. “If this is your first
visit, welcome.”

Matt's eyes narrowed and he squinted at the speaker. Sure. The times were perilous. His grandmother had been shot to death,
but what were these students doing that required seclusion and secrecy? The hiddenness of the group both attracted and repelled
him.

“As we all know, tonight we will again study the only book in existence that explains what has been occurring lately, and
clarifies what happened to all the people who vanished. Obviously, we are living in strange times and need something more
than a little touch of sociology or a dab of psychology. We believe this singular, ancient work has the explanations to all
the questions anyone is seeking to answer. This evening is another opportunity to find the hope you need in today's world.”

What was this guy talking about? A secret book explaining the disappearance of all those people? What a bizarre idea! What
in the world had he gotten into! A local nut group?

H
ASSAN JAWHAR RASHID
glared across the top of the massive desk at the general in front of him. His eyes searched the man's face for even a hint
of inconsistency.

Afternoon was falling in Ribat Qila. Located at the tip of the triangle where Iran, Afghanistan, and Pakistan met, the foreboding
desert town made a perfect place for Rashid to meet a Russian official secretly.

“As I said,” General Vladimir Trudoff repeated himself forcefully, “the Russian Army has been oriented according
to your instructions
. The attack will proceed as
you have directed
.”

Rashid's eyes did not move from scrutinizing the general. He probed like a mind reader. “You are sure the missiles are aimed
exactly as I have directed?”

“I have overseen the calculations myself,” General Trudoff insisted. “The matter is settled. You have nothing to worry about.”

Rashid abruptly smiled. “Nothing to worry about?” He leaned back in his large leather chair. “Here we are in a desert surrounded
by crimson and black mountains where a few rupees buy anything and you see no problems? My dear general, the world is filled
with matters that we should all have apprehensions about. Your role is to minimize my concerns.” Rashid drummed on the top
of his desk. “No one in the entire Russian military knows anything about our relationship and plans?”

“Of course not,” Trudoff snapped. “Our relationship remains between us. Matters will unfold precisely according to your wishes,”
the general insisted.

“Okay!” Hassan Rashid shot forward in his chair. “I will expect the conflict to unfold
exactly
as you have described. The matter is concluded.” Rashid stood and pointed toward the door.

“Ah… there is… one more matter,” Trudoff said hesitatingly. “The business of payment for these services has not been discussed.”

“I believe I agreed to pay you two million dollars.”

“Exactly.” Trudoff bowed his head ceremonially.

Rashid tapped the corner on his desk. The door opened and a man dressed in a black suit hurried in. “Yes, sire!”

“I want you to prepare a check for our friend for five hundred thousand dollars and give it to him immediately.”

“Yes, sire.” The man marched out as fast as he came in.

Trudoff's mouth dropped. “But you said…”

“I will pay you the remaining one and one-half million when the conflict is satisfactorily completed.” Rashid glanced at his
watch. “If you are correct, that business should only take a matter of hours.”

“But, but…”

“Please return when the assaults are completed and the personal check will be here for you.” Rashid smiled and again gestured
toward the door. “You retirement is still secure, Vladimir.”

General Trudoff pursed his lips and bit his cheeks. His eyes became hard. “I will be here shortly,” he growled, turned on
his heels, and marched out of the room.

Rashid chuckled. “The fool shouldn't have underestimated me. We shall see if the Russians do as they were told. If not, Trudoff
will be paid in lead, not gold.”

Rashid walked to the other side of his office and opened the door to his immense conference room. Sitting around the long
table, six military leaders from assorted countries appeared poised to act on whatever Rashid commanded. They snapped to attention
when Rashid walked into the room.

“Everything is in place, gentlemen,” Rashid said in Farsi. “Prepare for the assault.”

The military leaders instantly rushed out of the room.

T
HE SKY WAS STILL DARK
, but a few rays of sunlight crossed the Pecks' bedroom. The explosion in the museum threw everyone into confusion and Graham
came home depleted. Attacks and turmoil kept the city careening like billiard balls after a fast, hard break; Bridges's reelection
campaign seemed to have picked up some steam and he was staying ahead in the race. At the least, Graham's return to the reelection
office had helped, but last night he had gone to bed exhausted.

The weather had radically changed again. The moon was still red, but an Indian summer burst across Chicago, melting the snow
and sending the thermometers soaring up the scale. Citizens were left in disarray. The air felt more like early spring.

“You're all right?” Jackie asked quietly.

“Oh! Yes. It's a little early for you, isn't it?”

“I didn't sleep well.” Jackie rolled over to face Graham. “You were restless last night.”

“Nothing seems to be easy these days,” Graham said.

“You're telling me! How did people treat you at the office?”

“No one mentioned a thing about Mother's death. Even Sarah Cates kept her head down.”

“
Really
?” Jackie sat up in bed. “You've got to be kidding.”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Graham, good heavens! I've never heard anything so absurd.”

Graham got out of bed and picked up the clicker to turn on the television. “Let's get the news.”

“I'd rather talk about what happened at your office.”

Graham didn't answer. With a quick snap, he turned the television on and instantly the screen filled with the face of an announcer
reporting the morning news.

“We switch now to our correspondents in Chechnya for the latest information on the continuing rebellion inside Russia,” the
announcer said. “At this time we're receiving reports that the Russian Army has abruptly swept to the south in an attempt
to bring revolting Muslim areas back into line. The war apparently has spread as far as Turkistan.”

“What is this?” Graham pointed at the television set. “Do you know what he is talking about?”

Jackie shook her head. The television scene shifted and another face appeared.

“This is Ivan Cransky in Grozny. Many of our details are sketchy, but we are receiving reports that the Russian Army made
a surprise move last night and released a missile attack that apparently has started a major military conflict now spreading
rapidly across the entire region. Many sources are concerned that the war could spill over as far south as Israel and into
adjacent Arab countries.”

“I can't believe what I'm hearing!” Graham sat down on the side of the bed. “Overnight the world has erupted into another
war!”

“I had no idea such an attack was even imminent.” Jackie put her hand to her mouth. “No idea
whatsoever
!”

The television station switched back to the original local reporter.

“And now from the United Nations, we have a report from Siegfrid Swiggum, our special reporter on assignment from Norway.
What are you hearing, Siegfrid?”

Standing in front of the United Nations building, the face of a tall, thin man appeared drawn and worried. “Reports coming
into the United Nations are still incomplete, but we are receiving confirmation that a major world conflict has been sparked
by the harsh actions of the Russians. Apparently, Middle Eastern countries were already poised to protect their oil holdings
and responded with unexpected swiftness when the Russian attack began. We are not clear yet as to the amount of damage that
has been done, but it is considerable. However, the Security Council is currently in a secret meeting. The stakes are high
and the war could certainly deepen.”

Graham stared at the television. “That's all we need! In the middle of every other crisis going on in this city and country,
suddenly a war is explodes in our faces.” He shook his head and swore. “No telling what this conflict will do to the supply
of petroleum and hydrogen products we must have in our country! Mayor Bridges won't have any quick and easy answers for this
problem.”

“The world is absolutely coming unglued, Graham. People have gone nuts, irrational, berserk!” Jackie crawled out of her side
of the bed. “You must get to your office as quickly as you can. We need to know all the details of what is going on.”

Graham nodded his head. “Yes. No question about it.”

Without touching the transistorized music system, Graham hit the shower and was out in a minute. He wasted no time in dressing.
Grabbing a bagel, he rushed out of the back door to catch the next Metro Express downtown. He didn't have any idea what he
could do, but he would be available to help if anything consequential was needed. The train had only just pulled out of the
station when his cellular phone started buzzing.

“Graham Peck here.”

“Graham, it's me, the mayor. Where are you?”

“I'm on my way to the office. On the Metro.”

“Excellent. I guess you know about the war?”

“Got the first report of the war on our television this morning.”

“It's bad, Graham. I talked to the White House a few minutes ago and they believe this crisis has already spun out of control.”

“You're certain?”

“They're telling me that Russian nuclear missiles have already been fired at Middle Eastern countries.”

Graham took a deep breath. “Oh, man. It doesn't get much worse than that! Do you know what's happening in Israel?”

The mayor paused. “This is totally confidential.” He lowered his voice. “The Israelis may be firing missiles back at the Russians.”

“Why?”

“Looks like the Russians missed a target near the Lebanon border and hit the Israeli town of Sharm-el-Sheik. The Jews panicked
and shot back.”

“This is terrible, simply terrible.”

“Graham, I'll be in the office when you get here. We're looking at another red suspenders day down here. I need to be on television.
We've got to come up with an immediate press release proclaiming our stand behind the president our country. Jake Pemrose
is already working on some ideas.”