Boz stood just off to the side of the set, behind one of the cameras. Walker had been interviewing now for almost ten minutes. The first few were the perfunctory greetings and small talk. Boz knew the reporters would afford Walker the respect of his office—for a few minutes anyway. But after that, it would be open season. And Boz figured they had just about reached that point. Butch Larson, the interviewer and host of the program, finished fake-laughing at something Walker had said about his dog. Then he shifted in his seat. And his demeanor shifted with it. Boz knew it was time.
Here we go, Boz thought. He bowed his head and said a quick prayer for Walker. That God would give him the right things to say and not allow him to get tripped up or flustered. Larson cleared his throat.
“So, Mr. President, as you know, Governor Nolan of North Carolina has brought some pretty substantial charges against you. How do you want to respond?”
“Thank you, Butch.” Walker folded his hands and set them on the table they were seated at. “Governor Nolan, I’m sure, loves this country. I do not question his patriotism. What I do question is his leadership and judgment in this situation.”
“I’m not sure I follow you, sir.”
“Butch, Governor Nolan is suggesting we take a military which is already stretched—let’s don’t forget that the previous three administrations did everything within their power to cut military spending, forcing us to decrease the size of all four branches significantly—and he wants to go punch the Chinese in the nose.”
Larson laughed sarcastically. “Yeah, but who doesn’t!”
Walker nodded. “I agree. I myself would like nothing better than to see the Chinese forced back to where they came from.”
Larson thumped his hand down on the table. “Then why are we sitting here? You can’t seriously think—even with a leaner military—that the men and women of this country who wear the uniform can’t take our country back?”
Boz smiled because he knew what was coming. He and Walker had talked about this line of questioning on the way here.
“First of all, Butch, I would never suggest that our men and women couldn’t accomplish anything. You know as well as I do that they are the best-trained soldiers in the world.” Walker held up a finger. “But they are men and women who have children, families, mothers, and fathers who love them and want to see them safe. As president, I have assumed a responsibility that says I won’t put their loved ones in harm’s way unnecessarily or when the deck is stacked against them. The Chinese have an estimated one million soldiers on this continent. Have you done the math on that, Butch? They outnumber our men and women almost three to one now. It would be reckless to send—”
“Mr. President, we’re talking about the sovereignty of our nation. You mean to tell me that men and women—of all walks of life—wouldn’t take up arms, just as our forefathers did, to secure this nation?”
“Oh, now you want to demean the capabilities of our military men and women by suggesting the average citizen is capable of doing what they train months—years—to be able to do? All so you can suit your agenda? Sounds like someone else I’ve heard recently.”
Larson’s face turned red. He looked like a deer in headlights. Boz knew Walker had just landed a brutal roundhouse punch. And Walker didn’t wait for a reply.
“Let me tell you something, Butch. This nation has walked around for years believing that we were invincible. We’ve been proud, arrogant, and foolish. Not because we aren’t one of the greatest nations on earth. We were—no, still are—a great nation. The problem is we lost our way spiritually. Our own forefathers—the ones you so readily want to speak for—did a pretty good job of speaking for themselves. And with every chance they had to give us wisdom, they did so through the teachings of Christ and the Bible. They warned us, time and time again, to trust in the sovereignty of God. To turn to His ways when troubles sat at our doorstep. And what have we done? We’ve taken prayer out of school. We’ve taught our children it’s more important to make sure we don’t offend anyone, rather than stand up for God’s truths. We manipulate and circumvent our Constitution when it suits us. What we’ve become is a nation of fools. And five months ago, God decided to remind us of that.”
Larson seemed to have regained his composure. “About that, Mr. President. Let’s talk about this Prophet. Who is he? Where did he come from? Why haven’t any of us seen him? There are many who believe that the whole Prophet thing is a hoax.”
“Butch, I can assure you the Prophet is real. When we first learned about him, we sent a team of our best people to investigate who he was. President Grant’s own personal spiritual adviser—a man who, by the way, has served our country as a Navy SEAL—was on that team. Everything the Prophet told us would happen, happened. Just like he said it would.” Walker took a breath and let it out again. “I’ll tell you another thing, too. He not only warned us, but he worked actively with us to help us secure the border we now share with China. If it weren’t for him, we might all be raising the Chinese flag.”
“Still, Mr. President. You have to admit. For the American people to just accept that God would send someone to do all of this is pretty fantastic. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Walker nodded. “In a day and time such as this, where our faith has become so weak, I do agree. But it doesn’t make it any less real. Just because you don’t want it to be true doesn’t make it so. Jesus said, ‘Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed.’ ”
Larson gave a derisive snicker. “With all due respect, Mr. President, you’re not Jesus Christ.”
Walker nodded again. “True, but I know Him. Can you say that, Butch? That you know Him? Because if you did, I doubt we’d even be having this conversation.”
Boz’s eyes went wide. BOOOM! First a roundhouse, now a straight dropkick to the solar plexus. Way to go, Mr. President!
Larson’s face went red again. But this time, it looked like embarrassment. “I hardly think my spiritual preference is the issue here, Mr. President.”
Boz knew Walker wasn’t going to let that just go. And Walker didn’t disappoint.
“It’s exactly what’s at issue here, Butch. Your faith, my faith, the faith of the entire nation is the issue. It’s the exact reason we’re in this mess to begin with. This is what the Prophet was speaking of.”
Larson jumped back in. “Again you bring up this Prophet. Mr. President—Jesus’ words aside—how can you truly expect a broken nation to just trust a man who says he’s sent by God when he won’t even show himself? I may not be the most religious person in the world, but even I know Jesus was talking about Himself in that scripture you referenced. Not some Prophet who would claim to be sent by Him two thousand years later. If you want the American people to believe this Prophet is who you say he is, then how about you bring him in? Why don’t we let him tell us? All of us. Not just you and a few select people in your administration.”
Boz started to worry a little. He and Walker had talked about the possibility of Larson challenging Walker this way. And really, they had no answer for him. Quinn Harrington didn’t just live down the street. They couldn’t just go knock on his door and bring him in.
“He doesn’t work that way,” Walker said. “He contacts us when God leads him to.”
Larson seemed to love that. He sat back in his chair with an accusatory look on his face. He folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head. “Of course he does,” he said. “How convenient.”
Boz let out a frustrated sigh. This is exactly what he knew was going to happen. And there was nothing they could do. Who were they to put God on the spot like that? At this point, all Walker could do was continue to plead with the people, and trust that God would work through that.
Suddenly, Boz saw a man run out from the control room toward the set. He came from the other side of the room. Carnes and the other agents already had their weapons drawn, pointed, and moving, but Boz got there first. He tackled the man in midair. The studio turned into chaos in a split second.
“Get off me!” the man shouted.
Boz had him pinned to the floor. “Who are you? Why were you charging at the president?”
“I wasn’t charging at the president, you idiot! Get off me!”
Larson was out of his chair and coming over to Boz. “Hey! Wait! Don’t hurt him.”
“You know him?” Boz asked, still holding the man down.
“Yes! That’s Martin Lloyd. He’s our producer.”
Boz took his knee out of the man’s back. He grabbed him under the arm and hoisted him to his feet. As he did, he noticed that he was standing a good three feet into the set. All the cameras were trained on him, holding on to Lloyd. Everything that had just happened had been live on television. He felt a tinge of embarrassment.
“I apologize, Mr. Lloyd. I was just doing my job.”
Lloyd jerked his arm away from Boz testily. “Whatever.”
Larson said, “What are you doing, Martin?”
“I was trying to get out here and let you know there’s a phone call for you.”
Larson looked at Lloyd as if he were an idiot. “I’m in the middle of an interview!”
“Oh, you’re going to want to take this call. Trust me. And on the air, too!”
“Why? Who is it?”
“He said he’s the Prophet.”
Boz couldn’t believe what he’d just heard. Surely this was someone trying to make a mockery of President Walker—and of the interview. But Larson had already scrambled back to the table, where one of the studio hands had stretched out a phone and set it on the table.
Larson sat back down and pushed a button on the handset. “This is Butch Larson. Caller, are you there?”
“I’m here.”
Boz’s eyes went wide. He recognized the voice. It was, indeed, Quinn Harrington.
“Thank you for calling in, Mr.—”
“You can call me Quinn.”
“Okay, Quinn. And you say you’re this mysterious Prophet that President Walker has been telling the American people he’s in contact with. Is that correct?”
“That is correct.”
Larson looked to Walker. “Mr. President? Is this the man you recognize as the Prophet?”
Walker leaned in to the speaker. “Hello, Quinn. Good to hear your voice.”
“Hello, Mr. President.”
Larson’s eyes went wide. “Quinn, it seems you’ve caused quite a reaction from many people. What do you say—”
Quinn cut Larson off. “Mr. Larson, please be quiet.”
Larson sat back with a look of shock and disbelief. He’d probably never had anyone talk to him that way before. Boz smiled. Get him, Quinn!
“I have sat and listened to you and your colleagues for the last two days now,” Quinn continued. “I’ve listened to you berate your—our—president, a man that God has ordained to be in this position, with disdain and disrespect. Do you not know that God’s Word says to honor your leaders? That every man who sits in a position of authority does so at the will of God?”
“Mr. Quinn, I hardly think—”
“That’s the problem, Mr. Larson. You hardly think. Do you not know that the Bible says, ‘You shall not put the Lord your God to the test’? And yet this is exactly what you, Governor Nolan, and the rest of your counterparts have been doing. God does not answer to men, Mr. Larson. He commands them.”
Larson just sat there.
“However,” Quinn continued, “because God is a God of mercy and compassion, and because it is His desire to see our nation turn from its ways and back to Him, He has permitted me to address you all.
“In three days, I will stand in the chamber of the House of Representatives and give an early State of the Union speech. I will speak God’s decree upon this nation. He has instructed that I do this. He has been patient long enough.”