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Chapter 1
The
lights of Phoenix twinkled brightly in the
midnight air. Moonbeams danced on the arms of
the Saguaro cactus that surrounded Alix's parent's
desert home. The cool night air was filled with
the scent from the orange blossoms and the sounds
of a sleeping city. The moonlight bathed the
city in a mystical aura resulting in a breathtaking
example of God's handiwork. Alix silently sipped
her Amaretto as her gaze touched the city that
lay beneath her. The holidays were over. Y2K
had come and gone much to Alix's amusement.
Tomorrow she would have to return to DC and
work. This was her last night in the desert.
The effect of the alcohol helped to warm her
from the March's cool night air. The longer
she stared out the open arcadia doors at the
lights below, the more entranced she became.
Her parent's home sat on a side of a hill in
the Biltmore Estates that gave her a view of
the inner city below. The old chair she sat
in smelled of leather and her father's cologne.
Her thoughts drifted with the cool breeze that
blew in through the open glass doors. She drifted
away to a time when she was a child hiding underneath
her parent's bed. From her hiding place she
could watch her father dress in his army uniform,
General Brad "Custer" Armstrong.
Every morning he followed
the same routine was followed. First he would
pin his three stars on the shoulders of a freshly
ironed shirt that hung on the door of closet.
He then would find a pair of fresh neatly pressed
pants in the closet. His pants would go on next.
Then he would sit on the chair next to the bed
and put on his socks and shoes. His Army issue
green shirt with the three stars was the last
thing. He always buttoned his shirt from the
bottom up. His black tie was tied with precession,
the bottoms always equal in length. He did it
the same way every morning for as long as Alix
could remember.
By most stands he was a short
man, less than five and half feet tall and a
slightly built man. The flat stomach showed
there wasn't an ounce of fat on him any where.
From Alix's hiding place she could see his steel
gray blue eyes in the mirror as he gave his
uniform its final inspection. The moment he
finished dressing, out of thin air, Abby Armstrong
would appear. How she knew when he was dressed
and ready to leave, was a mystery to Alix. His
wife would give him one last going over, usually
making one or two minor adjustments, and a kiss
before she would allow him to leave the house.
Abby was smaller than her
husband. On a good day she was just over five
feet tall and was lucky to weigh a hundred and
ten pounds. Abby Armstrong was "old money".
Her genealogy tree went back to John Quincy
Adams. Sophisticated and beautiful the two of
them made the ultimate power couple. She could
"work a room" with the best diplomat
or any politician and often did. One of Abby's
other personality traits and the one Alix loved
most, was her wit. Abby could make Alix laugh
at will and often did. She could disarm the
most harden person with a simple smile and a
"zinger". The things that could come
out of her mouth seemed so out of place at times,
like a nun saying a four letter word in church
on Sunday morning during mass. The "zinger"
would always come when you least expected it.
There was no question that they loved each other
and none in Alix's mind that they loved her.
That love gave her all the confidence in the
world to do whatever she wanted to.
Alix now found her attention
drawn to the red glow of the coals that lay
at the bottom of a large stone fireplace not
far from where she sat. Alix traveled inward
as she recalled the legend of the great mythical
Phoenix Bird that would be consumed by its own
fire and rise out of those ashes born anew.
Without a doubt, the city was truly a magnificent
tribute to the legend of the mystical bird.
Phoenix is a city which has risen from the pyre
of the Ho Ho Kam Indians to become one of the
most promising cities in America's future.
At twenty-nine, Alix Armstrong
held the world in the palm of her hand. She
had inherited her mother's beauty and sense
of grace and her father's steel blue eyes and
his intensity. She was smart, and she was beautiful,
she never relied on her good looks for anything.
Alix had become financially independent and
professionally respected through hard work.
Yet somewhere beneath that layer of self-confidence
she exuded was a subconscious, self-imposed,
nagging fear that she was not the hardnosed,
searching/digging reporter her employers regarded
her. She knew some of her colleagues even considered
her just plain lucky. Being the general's daughter
had opened doors her first day in DC that took
other's years to walk through, she did so her
first day in DC. Doors may have opened by being
the Generals daughter, but it was she who had
the courage to walk through those open doors.
As far as Alix was concerned the real "luck"
had come later in the form of "The Accident"
which made the name of Alixander Armstrong one
to be remembered and respected in the news industry.
She had accepted the challenge
of her profession. Alix worked hard after she
graduated from Columbia University and had worked
at small television stations around the country
to build confidence and name for her in the
industry. There were distracters who said it
was her father's influence that helped her land
a job at the number one television station in
D.C. working for Harry. Sure, she was in the
right place at the right time, but she had worked
hard to put herself in position to be there
and get the job. She gave her father silent
thanks for her subsequent assignment to the
Pentagon.
But, when the transfer to
the house on Pennsylvania Avenue came only three
months later? She must have been doing something
right on her own merit. She liked to think her
father had no part of that, only her hard work
had got her that assignment.
She would not forget Harry's
words eight months earlier; Alix had been assigned
to the White house for a little over a year
at that point, when he said, "Alix, you
do damn good work. How would you like to get
your feet wet as an investigative reporter of
record?" It was Harry who assigned her
to the nuclear power plant story, just to have
her test her wings. Little did either know what
would happen that day and she would no longer
be just another pretty face reading copy. Then,
why did she continue to chide herself?
Her body ached often ached
from all the long hours, sweat and emotions
she had expended in propelling herself to the
respected position which she currently enjoyed
among the Washington press corps. At twenty
nine she had covered the Pentagon and the Whitehouse
and had been on the cover of Time with the headline
that read "Has a New Star Been Born?"
She felt that major story in Time was good fortune
she had derived from being at the right place
at the right time. Alix knew she had no desire
whatsoever to do a replay of the event. Nuclear
accidents were not something one staged to advance
one's career. Had it been as horrifying an experience
for her as it was for the viewers who lived
the story vicariously through her for the better
part of three days? You bet it was. More so,
she was at the source, staring death in the
eye ball to eye ball with the rest of the plant
employees.
Now and then strangers on
the street still approached her, asking if it
had really been that near of a catastrophe.
"Had it actually been that bad?" "My
God - yes!" It had nearly reduced the state
and the country to a pile of ashes, not to even
speculate on any of the other possibilities.
The images of Chernobyl often flashed through
her mind during those hellous days.
Alix's college education had
not given her any guidelines on how to report
or survive a possible melt-down. Her coverage
was a "first" in journalism where
"firsts" are hard to come by. When
she was in high school she would spend her after
school hours on the base where her father was
stationed. This is where she learned how to
survive and how to think and react under pressure.
She learned how to shoot and to defend herself,
hand to hand. She had set the obstacle course
record for women the summer of her junior year.
One story that seemed to followed her everywhere
was of the day during her senior year in high
school, when the star quarterback was giving
a geek a hard time. At one hundred and fifteen
pound Alix put this two hundred pound plus jock
on his back. Needless to say her chances of
becoming the Homecoming Queen vanished. During
the three days reporting the "accident",
this was the type of inner toughness she was
born with and had drawn on to get her through
those days.
She had succeeded in doing
her job admirably. Yes, she had accomplished
her task with commendations and accolades. But
what no one knew of was the subsequent ghostly
appearances. When she closed her eyes she could
still see clearly the first time the apparition
appeared to her. "It" appeared while
she was still reporting the accident. The first
time it happen was around two in the morning;
the plant's operators were trying to figure
out what to do next so she decided to take advantage
of the moment and laid down to see if she could
get some sleep. She now remembered, when she
was falling asleep, the feeling she experienced
the first time she saw him standing silently
watching over her at the foot of her cot. Her
body "tingled" all over like someone
was taking a feather and lightly touching her
skin all over. There he was just standing there
dressed in a battle worn Continental Army uniform.
His weapon at his side; at the ready. This was
an after effect neither her public, nor her
peers had any knowledge of. And now, in the
glow of the midnight moon, Alex dealt with the
"tingle" and memory of his presence.
She could not see him but she could feel him
near. The self-reflective mood set by the city
lights and encouraged by the Amaretto began
to disappear as the first signs of sleep began
to fill Alix's senses. As she walked toward
the open arcadia doors, she caught the night's
reflections mirrored in the glass and was once
again was caught captive by the beauty from
below. She needed these annual retreats to the
Valley to replenish her psyche and restore her
spent energy, drained from her by her demanding
lifestyle. Here, in her parents home, she experienced
security; security that lent to strength and
encouraged her to stand on her own.
Alix walked through the darkened
den; she set her empty glass on the credenza
and checked the amber coals in the fireplace.
She paused momentarily for one last look into
the dying fire. When she reached the door on
her way out, she looked back, gave the den a
quick survey to make sure everything was as
it should be and to see if she could see the
soldier. Once she was satisfied he wasn't there,
she left.
Safely sandwiched between the white satin sheets
in her bedroom, Alix drifted into a deep sleep.
Sometime in the early morning hours, those hours
spent between two separate realities - the real
world and the one composed of the dream state,
Alix let go and slipped into the dream world.
Two huge towers, looking very
much like the Seven-up glasses one finds in
novelty stores, loomed in the distance. The
aura produced by them was sinister and threatening.
Without warning, the water cooling towers of
a nuclear power plant exploded and an enormous
mushroom shaped cloud appeared above the rubble.
Increasing in size and density, and then the
cloud slowly ascended into the air. The sky
blackened and time stood still. The gray-brown
of the rubble from the destroyed towers gave
the appearance of a spent fire. Lying in the
"ashes" she could see The Great Seal
of the United States. Alix threw down her microphone
and turned to Christian who was at her side
filming the holocaust. Christian's expression
was contorted in disbelief.
Suddenly, the figure of a
man appeared in the foreground, transfigured
within a different cloud, he was walking to
where she and Christian stood. It was evident
that he was wearing a battle frayed uniform
of the Continental Army that Alix had now become
so familiar with. His face was tired and dirty
from battle. The words formed slowly and ever
so carefully on his lips, they quivered as he
spoke, "One if by land, two if by sea."
Then in a low moan he repeated, "One if
by land, two if by sea."
"Alix!" The voice
came again, this time softer; someone was gently
shaking her shoulder, "Alix?"
Before the dream would let
her go, the spirit had one last message, "You've
got to get to him". When Alix finally came
to her senses and had awakened enough to realize
she was sitting up in bed, her body covered
with a thin film of perspiration.
"Alix!"
Alix focused her attention
in the direction of the voice and then the hand
that was on her shoulder. "Oh . . . Mom.
What's going on?" As she finished the question,
she noticed her father standing in the doorway.
It made her feel ten years old again when they
would check on her after a bad dream to reassure
her that she was safe.
"Alix," her mother
asked in concern. "Were you having a nightmare?"
"What?" Alix asked,
buying time to regroup her senses.
"You were shrieking at
the top of your lungs," her father said,
eyeing his daughter.
Alix reached out and touched
her mother's face to make certain she had the
two worlds separated. "I'm fine now."
Her parents exchanged glances
as her father took one hand out of the pocket
of his robe and looked at his watch.
"No sense in going back
to bed now. Why don't you get up and we'll have
a leisurely breakfast and discuss this."
Alix hesitated. The last thing
she wanted was a conversation with her father
about her dreams, but she knew there would be
no way to avoid it. In a moment she replied.
"Fine."
"Good, I'll go get it
started while you take your shower." Abby
said.
Alix watched as they left her room, she curled
her legs up under her chin and rested her head
on her knees. Those words were still echoing
in her ears, "One if by land. Two if by
sea."
Alix's mind raced back to
a time eight months ago. She remembered feeling
strange as she and Christian drove out to the
nuclear power plant on that fateful morning
- - that morning her life had so drastically
changed. She was feeling those same inner feelings
now. Her inner knowing told her that her life
was about to change again.
She remembered seeing the cattle in the early
morning light, steam coming from their mouths
as they mooed, calling their young for their
first meal of the day.
In the local area there was
so much public out cry and miss information
on the safety and operation of a Nuclear power
plant. The power company that owned the power
plant had thought it would be a good idea to
do a public relations campaign to garnish support
and bring awareness on the safety and operation
of the power plant and so did Harry. She and
Christian were assigned to do just that, report
to the public how a nuclear power plant functioned
and how safe they were.
Alix was impressed with the
control that the plant operated under; the day
shift was just arriving. The night shift was
leaving, turning over the controls and briefing
their relief on the night's events, when at
six a.m., there was a roar of steam heard by
only a few people living near the plant but
by none of the employees inside the control
room.
As Alix and Christian walked
closer to the control room deep inside the plant,
a double-toned alarm alerted the operators that
warned them that the plant was in a crisis.
Within the next two minutes over two hundred
warning alarms sounded in the plant's control
room. While confusion reigned and plant personnel
converged on the control room, an unprecedented
series of events began to happen, step by step,
toward the worst accident in the history of
commercial nuclear power plants. And Alix and
Christian were caught standing right in the
middle of the event. It did not seem anyone
cared that Christian filmed and Alix reported
as the plant's operators went to the task of
diagnosing the ills of the plant.
Denial was common during the
early hours following the accident. At first,
there was disbelief that it had actually been
an accident and this was just another drill
that had been staged for Alix's benefit. Shortly
after came the persistent rumors of sabotage,
maybe even the act of terrorists. There was
the speculation that the event had not even
been serious, but a simple malfunction of the
warning system. Federal, state and local officials,
accompanied by hordes of journalists, converged
on the site. Fed by conflicting information
from the plant's operators and nuclear regulatory
officials, hostile skepticism turned into disbelief.
The early rumors began to find substance. Deep
in the bowels of the plant's water-cooling system
are valves essential to keeping the nuclear
core cool. Upon initial inspection, these vales
had been reported open and in operating position.
Simultaneously however, these same valves were
rumored as being closed starving the core of
vital water and almost a certain cause for the
near meltdown.
Early on the third day following
the seemingly harmless roar of steam, official
radiation monitors picked up emissions which
instilled the first full breath of legitimate
fear into the event. In addition, an elusive
air bubble emerged on the scene - obstinate,
ever-changing, of unknown composition, and apparently,
not going anywhere at the moment; yet the danger
posed was all too clear. If it grew it could
push coolant out of the core, expose the rods,
and create the real possibility of a nuclear
meltdown.
People read the newspaper
accounts, watched television reports of the
escalating crisis, and were forced to consider
the possible consequences of an actual peacetime
atomic disaster. Pictures of nuclear meltdown
at Chernobyl were constantly being shown on
the news reports. Hundreds of nuclear engineers
and computer specialists had huddled through
out the country since the first reports of the
bubble, developing models of the disabled reactor
and trying to devise ways to eliminate the bubble.
Soon scenarios for dissolving the bubble filtered
through Alix and then to the press and on to
a baffled public. By noon, just when it seemed
that someone would have to make a critical decision
about what action to take, the bubble vanished.
The crisis was over, leaving the Nuclear Regulatory
Commission to wonder why, and a terrified public
to wonder how and why it had happened in the
first place.
It was as if fate and destiny
had put a collective hand on Alix's back and
shoved, propelling her into a life she worked
for and permanently engraving her name into
history. Alix had believed that hard work alone
would result in achieving her goals, not a thing
called fate, and she surely didn't believe it
was her destiny. Now she did not know for sure.
She could feel that "tingle" and same
cold hand once again upon her back now, pushing
her again. Who in the hell was doing it? And
why?
. . . .
The
aroma of freshly ground coffee greeted Alix
as she entered the kitchen. She opted for coffee
rather than a shower. Out of bed she found a
pair of Army green sweat pants and slipped them
on under her Army green night shirt that read
Class of 91 of it. Her greet her as she came
into the kitchen with her favorite mug. It was
green and had the front of the Great Seal on
one side and on the other side was the reverse
side of the Seal. Underneath each symbol her
name was printed in key lime green letters.
She couldn't remember a time when she didn't
have the mug. Her father had given it to her
on her fourth Christmas. Abby gestured for her
to sit down at the antique oak claw foot table,
a legacy from her great-great-great-great-great-grandmother.
Memories returned to Alix, of a young girl anxious
to please her mother by polishing the claw feet
of the table. When she was five or six it seemed
the table would tell her of the marvelous adventures
told over meals by those of the past who had
lived them. When she got older her mother would
show her the hand written pages that had been
handed down through the generations. The pages
spoke of the stories that told of the adventures
of men like Jefferson, Adams, Washington and
Franklin who had sat at this very table. She
had always felt the table was special; a proud
and dignified symbol of her and her mother's
heritage.
There, in the silence, Alix
suddenly realized her father had not taken his
eyes from her since she had entered the kitchen.
His intense eyes looked past hers and into her
soul. She had seen it many times with men under
his command. Beads of sweat would form on foreheads;
shirts would become wet with perspiration. Now
retired, his eyes had not lost any of their
intensity. Alix had his full attention.
She took a deep breath and
stared at the mug, "He started showing
up in my dreams while I was covering the accident."
"Would you mind starting from the beginning?"
He said. His eyes did not blink.
So, Alix told him the whole
story up until this morning. "I haven't
had dreams like these since I was a little girl."
When she had finished she
looked up from the mug at him. He smiled at
her, God she loved that smile; it meant everything
would be fine. When he didn't have his uniform
on, he was different man. He was her dad. She
had chosen early on to see him in that role
of father and husband not as an army general.
They were two different worlds and the general
too had to learn to leave the stars at the door
when he came home at night. "I have seen
many things I can't explain in my years in the
military. Many things I can't explain that I
have seen with my own two eyes. Once when I
was leading a squad on a patrol in the jungle
a light appeared out of nowhere and there at
my foot was a trip wire, not more than two inches
from my boot. If I would have gone another step,
I would have been blown to bits. But I wasn't
and I am here today. I could tell you more stories,
but..."
Abby cut him off, "I never heard that story.
Maybe I should get the video camera and we can
record this and send it in to some reality TV
show. We could make millions."
The general and his daughter
turned in unison and looked at her.
"Oppps.
Bad idea?" she asked.
"Real bad." The
general said.
"Yea mom forgetaboutit."
Alix said in her best Brooklyn wise guy impression.
Her father turned his attention
back to Alix, "You didn't mention anything
about last nights dream."
"You are something else
dad." She paused looking for the words
to continue. "In last nights dream, I think
he was trying to tell me something is about
to happen." Alix went on and explained
what she had seen in her dream. "But this
time the spook spoke to me for the first time,
the spook said to me, 'one if by land, and two
if by sea'. Don't ask me what it means, I haven't
a clue."
Before she could say anything
else, her mother brought her a plate of scrambled
eggs, bacon and toasted sourdough muffins. Alix
instinctively reached for the catsup . . . C.S.T.
The letters represented Childhood Survival Training.
The logic was simple. As a youngster she could
eat anything she disliked if it was doused with
a generous amount of catsup. . and Alix disliked
scrambled eggs but never had the heart to tell
her mother. When she looked up from her food
she could see the worried look on her fathers
face.
"What's that look for?"
"I was just thinking
about the part of the dream you had where you
saw the Great Seal in a pile of ashes."
"Does that mean something
to you?"
He looked out the window when
he spoke, "The Seal, it's history, and
its symbolism has fascinated from the time I
was at West Point. One day I was doing some
research work in the library and just happened
to come across the Great Seal. I don't know
how long I just sat there and stared at it.
There was a brief story underneath it about
what the seal symbolized then I met your mother
and I was hooked. I had to learn everything
I could that went into the design of our Coat
of Arms."
"Tell me more."
Alix said.
He took the mug from in front
of Alix and pointed to the side that shown the
front of the Great Seal that everyone recognizes.
"This side symbolizes the materialistic
endeavors of Democracy." He turned the
mug around and point to the reverse side, "this
side symbolizes the spiritual side of Democracy."
She rescued her mug from her
father's hand, "Go on."
The General looked at his
wife and said, "Did you know that John
Quincy Adams was on the first committee to create
our Coat of Arms. Also know as our Great Seal?"
"I knew he had a hand in writing
the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution
but I didn't know about the Seal thing."
Abby said. She sat down at the table.
He nodded, "Along with
Jefferson and Franklin. They were all Freemasons
and they all had more than a working knowledge
of the Kabala. These were the sources the Founding
Fathers used for their inspiration for the ideals
of Freedom and Democracy. The Declaration of
Independence and Constitution are the written
vision of this new idea of government that the
Founding Fathers had. The Great Seal through
the symbols used is the visual representation
of that vision. These men would not have left
anything to chance. Particularly Franklin, but
they all understood the importance of a Coat
of Arms in the world. They would have made sure
the seal's images would send a message on a
conscious and subconscious level by using the
occult craft of the Kabala.
"What really got me hooked
was the Law of Thirteen. The importance of the
number 13 can hardly go unnoticed by any one
of that era who was a Freemason or a Rosicrucian
or practicing Qabalist. Thirteen can be found
represented thirteen times on the Great Seal
and in various other combinations. I am sure
this just didn't happen. This is where the door
opened to me into the world of the occult."
"Dad, you're not serious?"
She said as she sipped the hot coffee from her
rescued mug.
"I am. Thirteen is the
destiny number for the United States. What is
the Law of Thirteen? I had to learn to understand
the concept. It's a journey of transformation.
It's about the cycle of twelve; thirteenth is
the expression of the twelve. An example, there
are twelve signs in the zodiac. The zodiac is
thirteenth." He could see this wasn't getting
through to either of them by the look on their
faces. "Try this; there are twelve months
in a year. The year is the expression of the
twelve. Christ had twelve disciples; he was
the expression of the twelve for a total of
thirteen. George Washington had twelve generals
in his command. George Washington was the leader,
the thirteenth. Thus with the number so prominently
displayed in the seal thirteen times it is without
question the vibratory field our founding fathers
envisioned this country to be placed. Thus sealing
our faith as a country forever." He could
see the confusion on their faces, "The
first navy had thirteen ships, if that helps."
Even though that number has
gotten a bad rap for being 'unlucky', in the
occult world it is the number of transformation.
So new was the idea the founding fathers had
anyone who embraced this vision had to go through
a transformation so radical was this vision
of Freedom and Independence to the world it
had never been tried as a government in recorded
history. The transition to this form of governing
it would require a great transformation of the
spirit within the individual that if one did
not go through the process the whole idea and
vision would die. So powerful is the number
thirteen that Christ had twelve and he made
thirteen. General Washington had twelve generals
under his command eleven that were Freemasons.
Thirteen is the end of one cycle and the beginning
of a new one." He was speaking so fast,
it would have been impossible to miss the passion
with which he spoke. "The number thirteen;
it speaks of transformation or death. An inner
transformation that is necessary for one to
complete so that one can be in step and in harmony
with the times and environment. When that transformation
is completed within oneself we have a new birth.
As the transformation relates to freedom some
say that is the concept of New Order of Ages
or as some may say New World Order. What happens
when the transformation is not completed, then
there is only failure and death."
"Brad your scaring me."
Abby said.
That did not slow him down
a heart beat. "There are thirty two feathers
in Dexter or right wing and thirty three in
the sinister or left wing for a total of sixty
five which is five times thirteen. The Masonic
message isn't hard to see there.
"Washington often talked
about the feeling of Divine Providence guiding
his way during the early years of this country.
I feel one of the most important things on the
seal is the number 1776. It's a fulfillment
of a prophecy God made to Jacob. The prophecy
begins when Israel is first being enslaved in
Egypt in 745bc. Seven times 360 years which
is one prophetic year, equals 2520 years. Add
the 2520 to 745 and bingo you have the year
1776. This is mentioned in the book of Daniel
as the 'seven times'. 1776 in the gematria of
the Greek language is tied to the phrase 'he
soteria Israel', which means 'the salvation
of Israel'. It is also regarded as the date
the New World Order was born. The New World
Order was the first to recognize equality to
all peoples economically, socially and politically."
"Is that what ties us
to Israel now?" Abby asked.
"I believe the Moslem
terrorist extremists may hold that view."
"A source of hatred below
the radar?" Alix pointed out.
He looked at her and said,
"Maybe on both sides. So tell me more about
what is happening with you and this spirit Alix."
"It has gotten to the
point where I can feel him around me . . . .
I get a 'tingling' sensation all over my body
when he is about to appear. When that happens
I know danger is about. Once after the accident,
during an intense afternoon while I was working
some Presidential coverage, I felt his presence.
At the time I was with a group of five or six
other journalists and some lesser officials
traveling with the President. We were just standing
there talking. I glanced around expecting to
see my friend the spook, instead what I encountered
was a very real woman armed with a pistol. Her
attention was focused on our group, and I can
only surmise that we were her secondary targets
as the President had detoured and gone another
way.
"Anyway, to make a long
story short, no one was hurt and she was arrested.
There has been another time or two like that,
not quite as glamorous but none the less entertaining."
She hoped the nonchalant attitude
would appease her father. She had already said
more than she had originally intended.
"Alix," her father
hesitated. "Has he ever spoken to you before?"
"No. Daddy, you mean
to tell me you don't think I am crazy?"
"I do, if he doesn't."
Abby said patting her daughter on the arm. "But
I must admit I do find it interesting."
"Thanks for the vote
of confidence mom."
"Is there anything else?"
He asked.
"I had a second dream
before this one. In that one he appeared and
showed me . . . death, a lot of death . . .
."
Alix's father frowned. "I
want you to make me one promise."
"Just one?"
"You keep me informed.
I want to know about any more visits."
Alix stared out the window and to the view on
the other side. "I almost forgot; there
is one more thing. The Continental soldier said
before he left and you woke me, 'You've got
to get to him'."
Alix's mother intervened.
"My goodness, look at the time! Your flight
leaves in less than an hour and you're not dressed."
"Promise me again,"
her father's hand reached out and took hers
in his, "If this gets too much, you will
ask me for help?" He had put an extra enfaces
emphasis on the word 'me'.
Alix looked into his eyes
and nodded.
Back in her room Alix was
troubled over the direction of conversation
at breakfast. Never in her wildest imaginings
did she believe her father would believe her.
Then on top of it, he encouraged her. His knowledge
of the Great Seal impressed her and all that
woowhoo stuff that went into the design of it
made an impression on her.
While she was trying to decide
what to wear on the plane back to Washington,
she came across a western outfit that her dad
had bought her for her birthday. Although she
had said to herself, short of a Halloween party,
she wouldn't be caught dead in it. Alix decided
she would please him by dressing in the outfit
for the flight back to D.C. She wanted to make
the extra effort as a gesture for her father.
It was her away of saying "'thanks"'
to him for his support and understanding. She
knew that his smile of approval would compensate
for her being uncomfortable.
She stepped into the tight-fitting
Jordache Jeans, high-heeled Tony Lima boots,
and a blouse that had pearled- snaps down the
front. The outfit was topped off with a white
Stetson hat and a feathered band that matched
the color of her eyes. After one final look
in the mirror, she came to the conclusion she
did not look half bad out west but that back
east that would be a different story.
Alix disliked traveling in
restrictive clothes. She slipped on a lightweight
sheepskin jacket so her father would not notice
that she was braless. It was permissible by
his standards if other women dressed that way,
but not his wife or daughter.
The ride to the airport was
filled with easy conversation and her father's
compliments on how beautiful she looked. Her
mom asked her if her friend from the early morning
visit was going to be traveling with her. Abby
did not want any strangers left in the house.
Upon entering Sky Harbor,
Alix realized there was no time for her parents
to walk to the gate with her. She said her good-byes
at the curb as the skycap hurried off with her
luggage. Alix clung to them each a bit longer
than usual, enjoying their warmth and sense
of security. Why is it she wondered, in moments
like these, she was overcome by the anxiety
that she may never again be held in her parent's
arms?
As Alix approached the security
check point in terminal four, she began to feel
self-conscious in her attire. Once through the
check point she hurried down the corridor; over
the paging system at the gate she heard the
final boarding call for her flight to Washington
was being announced. Soon she would be entering
in to the wonderful world of pure boredom and
jet lag. It was the silent curse that fell on
all of those who flew east. She hurried, knowing
from experience that they would not hold the
flight. Two men turned to take notice of her
as she ran down the corridor. She enjoyed the
adulation. To her it was as good as any mirror.
One man, looking very macho
in an expensively tailored, western suit, tipped
his cowboy hat in recognition. She returned
the gesture with a warm smile. This courteous
act had always fascinated Alix. She felt it
was one of the notable acts that made a woman
feel noticed, and more than that, appreciated.
As she approached the empty
waiting area, she unbuttoned her jacket, suddenly
feeling a sensational rush; the "great
to be alive" lift. She smiled, inwardly
realizing much of this "rush" had
to do with male attention.
An anxious attendant at the
door was waiting for her as she approached.
"Miss Armstrong, I presume." He spoke
in a tone of impatience.
Alix nodded and presented
her ticket folder. The attendant accepted the
folder and tore off the necessary documents.
"Enjoy your flight," he said, returning
the documents.
Alix turned and went through
the door; strange and ironic how all the jet
ways were the same, and yet the exit and entrance
could be the difference of thousands of miles.
Alix was greeted by a flight
attendant at the entrance to the plane. "Welcome
aboard."
"Thank you," Alix
said, as she passed. "I apologize for the
delay."
Alix was surprised to see
that all the first class seats were taken except
one. She glanced down the aisle into coach.
They were also filled. Feeling as if she had
walked into a church during the middle of prayer,
she flushed from embarrassment. Not bothering
to remove her hat or jacket, she slid into the
remaining seat, and pushed her carry-on bag
underneath. Alix glanced at her traveling companion
who was staring out the window. He did not bother
to look in her direction. The chief flight attendant
prepared to give the usual preflight instructions,
while other attendants checked for unsecured
articles, and made sure all seats were in an
upright position and seatbelts were fastened.
In the time before take off,
Alix got her hat and jacket off. The flight
attendant stored them away for her. Out of the
corner of her eye she studied the man next to
her while he continued to stare intently out
the window as the plane taxied out for take
off. He was dressed in blue jeans and Levi western
style shirt that was opened at the neck and
revealed a gold chain. From his jet black hair
and light brown skin he appeared to be of Hispanic
descent. Soon the plane received flight clearance,
and as it began to roll down the runway, Alix's
seatmate pulled down the window shade and closed
his eyes.
As soon as the plane was airborne
the attendant began to make rounds to check
on the needs and wants of the first class passengers.
Stopping at Alix's seat, she asked, "Would
either of you like something before breakfast?"
"No, thank you,"
Alix replied.
The man next to Alix suddenly
spoke without opening his eyes, "I would
like a Jim Beam and coke."
Alix could detect from his
breath that he was already well on his way.
The attendant hesitated a moment before acknowledging
his request, then left.
"I hate to fly,"
he said with an apologetic tone to his voice.
His eyes remained closed. The man seemed weary
and looked as though he might get airsick. This
was going to be one of those long flights, Alix
groaned to herself, forcing a polite smile that
went unnoticed.
The first leg of the flight
into Houston was rather smooth. She read a Tom
Clancy novel, he drank. In Houston, after learning
that they would have a ninety minute layover
for refueling and taking on of passengers, Alix
decided she would get some exercise. Leaving
her jacket behind Alix donned her Stetson and
headed for the terminal. The men in Houston
seemed to approve of her attire. She wondered
wandered aimlessly through the boutiques to
pass the time.
Passing one of the terminal
cocktail lounges, she noticed her flying companion
sipping what appeared to be a double. She shook
her head. In her profession, Alix was exposed
to many heavy drinkers, but she seldom felt
disgust. More often it was compassion. She watched
as the man drained the rest of his drink and
hesitantly placed the empty glass on the bar.
When she finished using the
ladies room, she returned to the plane and found
her seat. Soon her seatmate entered the plane.
There was a short exchange between him and the
flight attendant. From her vantage point she
could tell the flight attendant was not happy
about his condition. He removed something from
his back pocket and flipped it open. The attendant
studied it a moment and let him pass. "Excuse
me," he said, with a slight slur to his
speech.
Alix moved so he would not
step on her, she watched as he eased himself
into the seat next to the window. Even in his
condition he moved with the grace of a cat.
A slightly drunk cat, but none the less like
a cat. Once he settled in he laid his head back
and closed his eyes. A short time later, the
plane pulled away from the gate and made its
way to the end of the line of planes waiting
to take off. Fifteen minutes later the plane
sped down the runaway and into the sky on its
final leg and a landing at Reagan.
Again the attendant made her rounds.
"Jim Beam," he ordered
before the attendant spoke. She hesitated.
"I'll have a Bloody Mary,"
Alix said. The attendant was relieved that there
was not going to be a scene, she hastened away.
"That was nice of you,
Miss Armstrong."
Alix was surprised that he
knew her by name.
"I've seen you on the
evening news. I especially remember your coverage
of that nuclear thing. Thought it was a right
fine job of reporting too."
"Thank you, ahh...?"
"Eduardo Sanchez, but
Manny is fine."
Alix stuck out her hand. "Manny,
glad to meet you."
He opened his eyes and they
shook hands. The attendant arrived with their
drinks and placed them upon the small table
between them.
"Again, thank you. I
don't think I've ever had a lady buy me a drink
before . . . certainly not by one as famous
as you!" He paused until the attendant
walked away, "You don't have to pay for
drinks?"
Alix smiled at him, "Not in first class."
"Damn. I thought she
was running a tab back there." Manny toasted
Alix , "By the way, nice outfit."
"Well thank you Manny."
Alix toasted him back. "A girl always enjoys
compliments." Alix smiled. Manny responded
with laughter.
"I hate to fly,"
Manny reiterated, taking a big swallow from
the plastic glass. "I have shot it out
with criminals, arrested men twice my size,
broke horses, but, it takes all my courage to
get my feet off the ground."
"Oh, so you're on an
officer of the law?"
"Not anymore, I was with
the D.P.S. . .Arizona Highway Patrol, for seven
years."
"Is that why you're going
back to the District?"
"Sort of. I now work
with the Border Patrol. Biggest mistake of my
life when I changed jobs. I thought I might
be able to make a difference. They recruited
me because I speak Spanish and a few other languages."
"Why was it such a big
mistake?"
"Spend a week on the
border. I'll show you. You watch these poor
people crossing the border looking for a better
life in this country. What I do is catch'm and
send them back. I get to listen to their stories
of how their lives are spent in hell holes back
home, how they are trying to flee from degradation,
slaughter and God knows what else . . . and
all I do for them is send them right back to
the hell hole they are trying to escape from."
Manny took another long hard swallow.
"You mean back to Mexico?"
Alix inquired, her sense of journalism beginning
to awaken.
"Mexico, yes. Those are
the easy ones. Most off them are just crossing
the border to find jobs to send money back to
their families. But the ones from Central America.
They are the tuff tough ones. They tell stories
of the cartels where whole families are slaughtered
right in front of one or two who were spared
so they can do the work. They are frightened.
They feel if they are sent back, they too will
be killed for running away."
"So this is what you're
going back to the District for?" Alix said,
sipping her drink.
Manny drained the remainder
of his drink. As the flight attendant walked
by, Alix touched her arm and pointed to both
of their empty glasses. She looked at Manny,
then Alix, shook her head and then left.
"I'm a sucker for a compliment,"
Alix encouraged. "Go on."
"They didn't exactly
tell me that I couldn't talk about it."
Alix's curiosity was barely
controllable. She wanted to know who "they"
were. "Manny, I'm only encouraging you
to go on at your own discretion. I know many
powerful people in the District and can get
things accomplished. If I can do anything for
you . . ."
"Ahhhh, a lady with integrity.
. . I appreciate the offer," he replied,
"but I really don't think it will make
a difference." Manny opened the bottle
and poured the contents into his empty glass.
Alix watched as he topped it off with the remaining
Coke in his can. It seemed his mind drifted
as he sipped his refilled drink. Alix for a
moment didn't think he was going to continue,
"The first part of last week, I was on
patrol along the Arizona -Mexico border in a
four wheel drive vehicle. My partner went on
foot to check a section of the river bed where
the SUV wasn't able to go. Policy says we don't
leave the SUV unmanned.
"Shortly after he left,
a man came out of the underbrush, a man who
looked like he may be of Middle Eastern descent.
He came up to the truck and I got out. Before
he said a word I shook him down, made sure he
wasn't concealing any weapons.
"He then began to tell
me his story in perfect English. If there was
a foreign accent, I sure couldn't detect it!
Anyway, he began to tell his story and I've
learned from experience, not to take anything
too seriously what these people say. They will
say anything that might cut them a break so
they can stay in this country. But this guy
was obviously intelligent and was so out of
place. You could tell by the way he spoke, the
words he used, the way he was dressed that this
he was different. He said he was a member of
a unit that was made up of eighteen men.
"He went on to say that
he and rest of the unit had been intensely trained
in terrorist tactics. I asked him for what reason.
He said, he and the other members of his Al
Quaeda unit were sent here to join up with others
units already in Arizona. Their mission was
to blow up blow up the major electrical producing
plants of the southwest. . .the dams - - - Hoover,
Roosevelt, and San Carlos. The targets included
the generating plant up in Page and Joseph City.
He said the grand prize was the Nuclear power
plant at Polo Palo Verde. The purpose was to
cripple the electrical energy sources of the
entire southwest in one blow."
"Did you believe him?"
questioned Alix who now was on the edge of her
seat. "It seems to me that you would have
had to interrogate him intensely, or torture
him to get him to divulge his mission."
"Not really. The reason
why he turned himself in was simple. The man
felt the other members of his unit did not trust
him. He was convinced that they were plotting
his death and he wanted immediate asylum in
exchange for his information. His request was
plain. He insisted on being placed in protective
custody and I was the man with the badge."
"Did you have the opportunity
to question him further about the explosives
or the weapons to be used?"
"He said the materials
were already within the country, obtained privately."
"Did you inquire where?"
Alix instinctively pushed.
"Yes."
"Were you able to verify
any of this?"
"I sure as hell would
not be on this plane if verifications had been
made," Manny responded, his black eyes
flashing.
Alix watched as Manny rubbed
his hands over his face. She could tell that
the day's events were beginning to take their
toll on him along with the Jim Beam. This was
a man Alix did not want to provoke, especially
in his present condition. "Alright, I want
to understand what is going on here." Alix
spoke rapidly, running her questions in succession.
"Where is this man now and what is his
name?" Then a thought surfaced from her
subconscious . . . a thought impression not
unlike a parent calling to his child . . . "One
if by land, Two if by sea!" Her attention
returned with Manny's response to her question.
"This man's name is Victor
something," he responded as he finished
his drink. "I can't pronounce it or remember
right now or how to spell it. A man from the
FBI came down to Arizona. One of the big shots,
big man, six feet plus and at least two hundred
and twenty pounds."
"His name by any chance
wouldn't be Ed Harris?"
"Yes, it was. You know
him?"
"Yes, we have a mutual
respect for one another. Mr. Harris is the director's
right hand man. If the department considers
the matter vitally important, they send Ed,"
she said. Alix felt the wheels in full motion
inside of her. There was no denying the importance
of the situation if Ed was involved.
"Mr. Harris is supposed
to meet me at the plane. I've been so uptight
that I didn't sleep last night." Manny
reclined his seat and closed his bloodshot eyes,
leaving Alix with a number of unanswered questions.
She caught the flight attendant's attention.
"How long before we arrive
in Reagan?"
The woman checked her watch,
"About a half-hour."
"Thank you." This
gave Alix time think and to plan ahead. The
last thing she wanted was a confrontation with
Ed Harris, at least not in the airport. That
could lead to her being detained "in a
matter of National Security" and she could
not let that happen. Alix needed time to check
out the information that Manny had given her,
time to check with some of her resources to
see where that information might take her. The
more she thought about it the more she was convinced
that the FBI was worried enough to pull Manny
in. Maybe Ed felt that Manny had gained enough
of Victor's trust and would talk with him more
openly. That made more sense to her since they
were not able to verify much or any of Victor's
story. The FBI needed more information from
Victor!
The pilot announced the plane's
descent into Reagan. Alix hoped perhaps her
outfit could work as a disguise. She scanned
the cabin for a man big enough to shield herself
from Ed's view. Two rows in front of her and
across the aisle, she marked her choice. There
was no doubt in her mind that she had to get
out of the airport without being stopped.
The cabin attendant was making
the rounds to make sure everything was ready
for the landing. Manny's seat was in the reclining
position when she stopped next to Alix isle
seat. "We need to get his seat in the up
right position."
The attendant was reaching
across Alix to wake Manny, when Alix grabbed
her arm. "I'll take care of it. He is having
a rough trip."
"It's been a long trip for all of us."
With that said she went on to attend to the
passengers behind them.
It was now left up to Alix
to maneuver Manny around without waking him
to get the seat in its proper upright position.
When she reached across him to push the button
his hand shot out and caught her wrist. His
grip was like a vise. Somehow she knew that
if she tried to pull herself free she would
wake him. Instead she just stayed still, her
eyes glued on his face. A few moments that seem
like forever past passed and his grip loosened.
She pushed the button and the seat slowed raised
to the position that was needed for the landing.
Once on the ground Alix put
her hair up underneath her Stetson and slipped
into her jacket. She reached under the seat,
found her carry-on bag, she and was ready to
move into place once the plane had taxied to
a stop. Manny slept through the commotion of
the landing and was still sound asleep when
the plane reached the gate.
Once the plane was stopped,
everyone stood up and started the departing
shuffle. As soon as the man Alix had mentally
marked got up out of his seat, Alix quickly
got up and slipped in behind him cutting off
other passengers in the process.
As they walked down the jet
way Alix checked her Rolex. It would be too
late tonight to contact anyone to verify Manny's
story. If Victor was within the District, she
would indeed find him, of that she had no doubt
that she would.
Alix kept in step close behind
the large man as they moved out of the jet way
and into the waiting area. A large crowd had
gathered to greet the arriving passengers. She
felt that with her uncharacteristic dress, Ed
would not notice her. She knew even if they
met now he would not know about her conversation
she had with Manny. But, if he stopped her just
to say hello and Manny just happen to walk up
at that moment it would spell bad news for her.
She gave a quick over the shoulder look behind
her to see if Manny was in sight. He wasn't.
Ed would discover soon enough from Manny that
she had been on that flight and had sat next
to him. And, naturally he being the curious
person he was, he would want to know about their
conversation.
As they entered the waiting
area she immediately recognized Ed standing
against the far wall. He was deep in conversation
with another man Alix did not recognize. She
positioned herself behind the big man she was
using as her shield; trying to place him so
he would block Ed's line of sight. Ed looked
up from his conversation in Alix's general direction.
The big man made a quick turn one way to greet
a woman friend, suddenly leaving her exposed.
She promptly turned her head and went in the
opposite direction, hoping he had not recognized
her. Luck was on her side. If he did recognize
her, he made no attempt to stop her. She moved
as fast as she could without drawing any attention
to herself. There was no way to know just how
far behind Manny and Ed was. I |
