Chapter 20

And the fourth angel poured out his vial upon the sun; and power was given unto him to scorch men with fire.

—Revelation

 

Major Ezra Hodge rubbed his eyes and checked his watch.

I’ve been up almost thirty-six hours!

He was once again surprised and thankful for the energy that was his gift from the Lord. It had enabled him to make his own investigations of the ViraVax site and to ascertain that destruction of lower levels had been complete—thanks to Toledo. After Toledo was picked up, Hodge had mucked about in the godforsaken jungle most of the night, then developed and delivered his own strategies to the albino at the Defense Intelligence Agency before daybreak.

This morning Chief Solaris ordered the entire compound buried in concrete immediately. Hodge concurred, because argument would be fruitless, and might expose him as a sympathizer. He would get out there once more in the daylight for another recon, just in case there was trouble lying about, some unknown factor that might put a hitch in Flaming Sword.

“Trouble lying about” reminded him of Toledo, and the humiliation he’d just suffered at the hands of the albino.

The albino’s treating Toledo like some kind of hero, he thought. Relieving me of the interrogation in front of the enlisted men undermines my authority here.

Major Hodge reminded himself to relax, that it didn’t matter, that in a matter of weeks there would be no Chief Solaris, no enlisted men.

All was going as planned.

More a hasty collage than a plan, Hodge tried to make the best of the sabotage wrought by Colonel Toledo and the children. Toledo was a mosquito awaiting a swat, but the children required a delicacy and resources that Hodge feared he did not have. He turned his fears to prayer, and one by one the obstacles fell from his path as the scales had fallen from his eyes.

Colonel Toledo had convinced Solaris to mercenize a Mexico City guerrilla team to liberate the warehouse. He was sure they’d be no match for the Jesus Rangers there. What could a straggle of ragtag idolators do against the Mighty Men of the right hand of God?

They could delay distribution of those World Health shipments until there aren’t any more planes to fly, he thought.

That would be a serious setback. Timing was the key. He and the Angel had counted on the vaccine shipments going out on Monday, following the doctored EdenSprings waters in service with the airlines, among many others. These AVAs would still encompass the globe, but not with the swiftness generated by a few hundred million personal injections in the name of medicine.

Hodge looked out his office window onto the sullen, battered compound of the U.S. Embassy across the street. Two extra security detachments betrayed the frantic activity that he knew roiled in the bunker-like interior. Every piece of the bristling rooftop electronics should be aglow with overuse, such was the level of panic inside. Even now his own equipment monitored every word, every signal for his perusal later. None of it had much value.

Major Hodge smiled at his shadowy reflection in the one-way duraglass and smoothed his rumpled shirt over his pot belly. He knew the picture that he presented: short, pudgy, pasty-skinned, nearly bald at thirty. In other words: bookish, invisible, threatless. The thought brought a sparkle to his blue eyes. This morning his cheeks and nose were blotched with mosquito bites, but he had to admit he’d enjoyed his slog into the boonies.

Today Ezra Hodge enjoyed everything, because the Eden he had prayed for all his life was finally at hand. He had Adam and Eve in his care, just as the Angel’s contingency predicted.

And those drones at the embassy don’t have a clue, he thought.

If he were loyal to the Agency, he would have let Mishwe come down to the wire with his plan, then nabbed him and the invaluable AVAs. But that would not suit his plan at all.

And for what? he thought. A commendation? Recommendation for promotion?

That was nothing compared to nearly two hundred years in Eden. More, if he took care of himself. Where the Agency was concerned, Ezra Hodge had bigger fish to fry.

The tone on his Sidekick brought a wry smile. That would be the Sanhedrin, perhaps Noas himself. By now perhaps they had reviewed the supplemental materials he’d parceled out from the ViraVax records. They would see that the Advent of Eden was at hand, and that Ezra Hodge held the key.

He strolled to his console and double-checked the Litespeed, reassuring himself that the satlink to Godwire was secure and any listening devices in the office were useless. He straightened his tie, tugged the wrinkles out of his shirt and commanded the machine, “Scramble one. Open.”

The flat-screen image of David Noas did the man no justice. Captured in front of the giant bamboo, the Goliath was truly a David, and Ezra Hodge did not have to suffer neck cramps looking up at him in person. The commander’s scarred and swarthy face tried for a neutral expression, but Hodge’s experienced eye read fatigue, shock and an undercurrent of anger that came out in dark-circled, wide eyes and a twitch of muscles around the jaw. The major breathed evenly, smoothly, confident that his expression did not betray his triphammer heart.

“Good morning, Commander Hodge,” Noas began, “and congratulations.”

“Thank you, Master,” Hodge managed, with a suitable nod of respect.

He did not want Noas to see that the promotion had caught him off guard.

“Congratulations, yourself,” he said, “and thank you for your confidence in me.”

“You knew?”

Hodge enjoyed the flicker of uncertainty that passed over the dark-circled eyes of David Noas. He did not know for sure, but the laws of probability were behind his bluff, and the bluff paid off. Even if Noas were to survive Flaming Sword, he never would be sure just how much Ezra Hodge knew about anything.

“It could be deduced from your introduction,” Hodge allowed. “If you were no longer Commander, then it follows that the Sanhedrin must have selected you Master. I could not imagine them voting you out in this hour of need.”

Noas seemed unimpressed by the logic or the flattery.

“We have both been chosen for our military and intelligence skills,” he said. “The Sanhedrin fears a worldwide coalition against us and expects us to stop it. My question for you: Will you give up your position with the DIA to serve us?”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Hodge asked. “I’m in a unique position here, and it has cost me thirteen years of torment and humiliation among the Babylonians. With a strong first officer, I believe I can hold this position and serve the Lord as well.”

Noas nodded absently, and Hodge realized that he was receiving another conversation via his earpiece.

We need focus at a time like this, not distraction!

“All right, Commander,” Noas said, finally. “You may remain in position for the time being. We will assess our threat, and you will continue your work with the Mishwe materials from ViraVax. Your assistant on the Twelve will be Tekel. He’s reliable, and up to speed on our current situations. I recommend Hubbard as your first officer, but that choice is yours.”

“Thank you, Master,” Hodge said. This time the title did not stick quite so hard in his throat. “I expect to have an update to you in the next few hours.”

“We are assessing a situation in Mexico City where our people are under attack for unknown reasons. Hubbard will brief you within the hour.”

More of Toledo’s meddling, he thought. He and the albino wasted no time.

Hodge considered informing Noas of the situation, then thought better of it. The Jesus Rangers could hold their own, and Noas didn’t need to know how Toledo had slicked him on this one. Nor did he need to know quite yet what the fighting was about.

“Thank you, Master. I’ll investigate from this end.”

“Could this be linked to the ViraVax disaster?”

Hodge hesitated. Noas was no fool, and had been instrumental in cloaking certain military applications of the AVA technology. Hodge concluded that it didn’t matter now whether the Mexico City shipment was exposed. All the others were in the pipeline.

“It’s possible, Master,” Hodge said. “Several coded shipments left here for Mexico City just prior to the sabotage. Transplant units and vaccines for World Health. I should know more in a couple of hours.”

“If the situation sours in Mexico City, a couple of hours may be eternity.”

“The fight in Mexico City is over nothing,” Hodge said with a smirk. “Don’t get drawn into it. I’ll have all the data to you within twenty-four hours. You will gain much and lose nothing by cooperating with the Babylonians on this one, trust me.”

“All right,” Noas said, and it came out a sigh. “I have a couple of speeches to write and a lobbyful of interviewers. And the Termite Queen wants to meet in person. She’s got a wild hair about this Mexico thing. Maybe they’ve winded the organ harvest and want some evidence. . . .”

Noas was distracted by something off-screen, and Major Hodge heard shouts and screams in the background.

Suddenly, David Noas looked very agitated.

“You have my priority code,” he said, “and I’m transmitting Hubbard’s now. Something’s wrong in Chambers; I have to go.”

The Children of Eden logo filled the screen, and Hodge switched it off.

Hodge had been cut off for most of his adult life from open practice of his religion, a religion that he felt with a passion that surpassed any corporal desire. Now his hour had come around at last, and his heart made a joyous cry to the Lord. Soon, he would be able to shout his love of God from the rooftops.

“‘Trouble in Chambers,’” Hodge repeated to himself, with a laugh. “I’ll get back to you, trust me,” he whispered, and patted the hot scrambler.

He would wait until GenoVax threw the children into his hands, and he would urge Rena Scholz to help him protect them.

She’ll be safest with the children, he thought. I can offer her the antidote at the last possible moment.

He took out the compact metal kit and prepared to administer another shot. He had not yet concocted a good story for his possession of the antidote, but for one who had been writing disinformation for the news media for years, this should present no challenge.

And if she, too, is swept up by the pale horse of pestilence?

He did not intend to live out his days in the Garden of Eden without a companion. Ezra the Invisible would improvise, as he’d been doing successfully all his life.