Draven Cross entered the Oval Office with all the pomp and false humility President Rodgers expected.
“President Rodgers, it is a real honor to visit you here at the White House. I appreciate your generous hospitality in flying me here in Air Force One. I may decide to keep it. I am jesting, of course. But, sincerely, it is a tremendous honor to be here,” Draven gushed, as he posed for the U.S. and international media contingent to snap a few photos to record his first meeting with a significant world leader.
“I am glad you feel welcome here in our great country,” Rodgers replied.
Before anyone else could speak, the chief of staff addressed the journalists. “Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. President Rodgers and Mr. Cross will now hold a closed-door meeting.” Then he promptly and efficiently ushered the entire contingent out of the Oval Office and closed the door firmly as he, too, departed the room. President Rodgers barely waited for the click of the Oval Office door before launching into questioning the intentions of Draven Cross.
“Rumor is you’ll be living here on a more permanent basis as the U.N. secretary-general,” President Rodgers began as he moved to his seat behind his desk.
“My, and I thought I was a shrewd businessman. Straight to the point, as you Americans are fond of saying in such settings as we find ourselves today. Well, let me introduce and then dismiss my confidants before we get to the heart of today’s visit.”
Draven introduced Evan Mallory as his political advisor and Gemma as his personal assistant, before asking them to wait outside the Oval Office.
President Rodgers eyed Draven as his staff members departed, leaving Gabriella and him alone with the would-be ruler of the world.
“That’s an interesting start to assembling your staff, but I am assuming you’re just getting started. Evan Mallory has an impressive Rolodex of power players around the globe, not to mention a ‘spiritual platform’ to congeal the masses. A smart move, Mr. Cross,” President Rodgers remarked.
“Please, call me Draven, and I am impressed with your assessment of my first key selection. While I think it may be premature to say I will be the next U.N. secretary-general, I like the way you’re thinking, Mr. President.”
“Thank you, but I think for now I prefer to call you Mr. Cross. As far as using religion to secure political power, your attempt will be nothing new.”
“As you like, Mr. President. I would like to speak to you in private, but I am willing to permit Dr. Gabriella Costa to remain if you wish.”
“I see you’re well informed, Mr. Cross,” returned President Rodgers, acknowledging Draven’s use of Gabriella’s full name without introduction. “Gabriella, please feel free to make whatever comments you wish before I ask you to step out of the meeting.”
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Cross,” she greeted. “Your track record of peace and charity precedes you. I wish you the best going forward, sir.”
“Thank you, Gabriella. I am sure our paths will cross again. Your reputation as a professional and leader within the U.S. Intelligence Community is impressive.”
The two men stood as Gabriella excused herself from the meeting.
President Rodgers felt like he had Draven pegged—a populist, or more accurately, an opportunist with the wealth and connections to take advantage of a disaster-ridden world. As the Oval Office door closed once again, President Rodgers addressed the man directly and somewhat coldly. “So what do you want, Cross? I’ve been in politics long enough to know that you always size up the toughest opponent first. I am guessing you see America as the primary challenger to your plans.”
Draven laughed aloud before answering, “I like you, Rodgers. You’re like a cowboy dressed up in a suit. You’re still the fighter pilot blazing the sky with a massive ego and the notion that America’s ideology is the best in the world. You think that as the American president you have me figured out, right? That I need you?” He matched the American president’s tone.
“Well, at least you know where I stand. What about you, Mr. Cross? Exactly what are your plans for the immediate future?” President Rodgers asked bluntly.
“I expect to be announced U.N. secretary-general, and then I expect the support of world leaders like yourself to help me usher in universal peace on Earth,” Draven returned expansively.
“Really? You think you’re going to achieve universal peace through the U.N.?” President Rodgers’ face reflected his humorous disdain for the idea.
“I guess the better question to ask, President Rodgers, is who will be able to stop me?” Draven responded with a steely look in his emerald eyes.
The dark edge to Draven’s last remark shook Rodgers to his core. It seemed Draven was not at all intimidated by the setting. President Rodgers pondered that perhaps Draven Cross was the biblical Antichrist if his announced objective was to lead the world down a primrose path of peace. The president also knew he’d better stop “fighting this fish” for now before he broke away and viewed the U.S. as a clear and present danger.
“Well, I see no reason to oppose you at the moment. You have the majority, if not all, of the world’s support. My question still remains regarding what you’re pushing for regarding America by speaking with me first before other world leaders,” President Rodgers said, attempting to disarm the man.
“That’s simple, Mr. President. I need America to lead the way in denuclearizing and supplementing the U.N. with conventional arms and personnel,” Draven stated matter-of-factly.
“Do you really think that, of all the nations in the world, the American people are just going to allow me to turn over our military might to the U.N.? I mean, even with the current state of the world, that will be an impossible sale to Congress,” President Rodgers replied with astonishment.
Draven loved outmaneuvering those in power; moments like this were pure pleasure for him. “I don’t think so, Mr. President. I’ve already taken the liberty of speaking, via a conference call, to your congressional Gang of Eight, and they have unanimously agreed that it’s time America stopped solving the world’s problems. It’s time to lead from the back—at least, that is how your Speaker of the House put it.”
President Rodgers tried to hide the quivering fury rising within him. Draven had been playing with him this whole time. He was being made a fool by not only the pretenious Draven Cross but the elected officials of his own country. God help us, was the only coherent thought he could muster. “I see. So really this meeting is just to feel me out, in a manner of speaking. You just want to know if I’m going to be friend or foe.”
“Precisely. So whose side of history will you choose today, Mr. President?” Draven queried, steepling his hands beneath his chin while leaning forward in his seat toward the American president.
Rodgers’s fighter pilot instincts told him he was outnumbered and low on fuel. It’s better to fly for safety and live to fight another day than die on a fool’s errand, he thought. He was smart enough to know that if Cross could reach Congress without him, he needed to move wisely and deliberately. “Obviously I choose to be in the camp of Draven Cross. I even want to make a strong recommendation for your future intelligence chief—Dr. Gabriella Costa.” He stood up and extended his hand to Draven.
“I am glad your ability to see the big picture was not left behind in the cockpit of your F-16. I accept your recommendation for my intelligence chief and look forward to your pledging support for my world peace initiative, Mr. President,” Draven said smugly, ignoring the extended hand.
“Once you’re announced as the U.N. secretary-general, I will begin the process of allocating our military resources to your new organization.”
The office door clicked open, and Rodgers saw his chief of staff’s head appear around the edge. “Sir, my apologies but I needed to let you, both of you actually, know that the U.N. General Assembly, at the behest of Secretary-General Aguilar, just voted to make Mr. Cross the next secretary-general.”
“Please excuse me. As you can imagine the world will be expecting my reaction to this ‘shocking’ news. President Rodgers, when should I expect your announcement about our discussion?” Draven asked, a smile barely concealing his thinly veiled sense of triumph.
“I’ll schedule a press conference by this time tomorrow. Dr. Costa will be in New York by the end of the week,” President Rodgers responded, working hard to hide his gut-level distaste for the man.
“It has been a pleasure, President Rodgers. Trust me, America’s support and yours will not go unnoticed by the U.N. I will send Air Force One back to you once I arrive in New York today.” The supremely confident man exited the room, throwing a quick, “Cheers,” over his shoulder toward the president on his way out of the Oval Office.President Rodgers fell into his chair in the now empty and seemingly meaningless Oval Office, sickened by the encounter. He feared that America and the world were about to suffer much at the hands of a monster who had sold his soul to the devil. Pressing the intercom button on his desk, he told his assistant, “Send in Dr. Costa, please.”
Christopher was glad to be in his shared apartment and away from Draven Cross. He grew restless watching evening news stories of clean-up efforts and human-interest stories on post-disappearance normalcy. He couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had swept over him after making eye contact with Draven. The breaking news announcement that Cross had been chosen as the secretary-general of the U.N. did little to soothe his misgivings about the future. He needed to know what was coming next for the world. He addressed Jackson, who was sprawled out on the couch.
“Hey, you’ve still got Rev’s Bible and journal, right?”
“You know I do. I’ve been poring through them both every chance I get,” Jackson responded.
“So besides believing that Draven is the Antichrist, what do you think is on the horizon based on what you see in there?”
“In one word: judgment,” Jackson replied grimly, sitting up on the couch as he turned off the TV.
“That bad, huh? Is there anything we can do to prepare, to get ahead of these upcoming judgments?”
“I’ve been studying to figure that out. The short answer is, I see very little we can do to prepare to stay safe. The Bible, in Revelation, doesn’t provide precise timelines for everything that will happen, but I can share what I see in broad terms. A lot will happen over the next seven years, but I’ll give you the near-term, fifty-meter targets.”
“Okay, let the end-of-the-world school begin,” Christopher intoned pompously.
“Your sense of humor is terrible,” Jackson said as he reached for Rev’s journal and Bible, which he now claimed as his own. “Leave being funny to professionals like me. Anyway, the pain will come in three waves with seven judgments each. If Old Saint Cross announces a seven-year peace pledge with Israel and convinces the rest of the world to agree to the same, then the clock starts ticking based on what I see in here.”
“The clock? Do you mean the seven years of tribulation?”
“You got it. The signing of a seven-year peace treaty with Israel marks the official start of the tribulation, also known as Daniel’s seventieth week, from Daniel 9:27. I believe the first seal unleashing the rider on the white horse as the Antichrist has already been opened—when Draven was announced as the U.N. secretary-general. Revelation 6:1–2 describe the rider of the white horse using diplomacy and the promise of peace to establish his one-world government. Sound familiar?” Jackson asked with a sarcastic expression.
“I am hooked so far,” Christopher replied guardedly.
“Rev marked verses in the Bible that give brief descriptions of what the opening of each of the following seals, trumpets, and bowl judgments will bring on the world. I’ll sum up the first four seals and riders, then you need to study the rest yourself. A big takeaway for me right now is how Rev noted in his journal that God would show the world grace even during this outpouring of His wrath,” Jackson said, leafing through Rev’s journal.
“How?”
“Well, for starters, each of these waves of punishment builds on each other. It seems there are brief lulls between each judgment to allow for repentance—an opportunity that some will take, but most will refuse. The seal judgments are bad, the trumpets are badder, and the bowls are the baddest.”
“Did you really just say bad, badder, and baddest?” Christopher asked, laughing. “If I didn’t know you, I would never guess you’re a fully qualified physician’s assistant. Country grammar at its best, you goofball.”
“Whatever. You get the point. It’s gonna suck. You should be figuring this out from your own perspective, college boy,” Jackson retorted, throwing a couch cushion at Christopher’s head.
“Hey, watch it. I’m sorry, but what you said was funny. Anyway, keep going.”
“The second seal sets the red horse and rider across the world that introduces a great war. The fallout from the war opens the third seal, and a black horse and rider will strike the world, which brings famine and further economic crisis. The fourth seal culminates in the natural results of a massive war, death. The pale rider and the three previous seals will claim over a billion lives and, sadly, many will enter into an eternity forever separated from God,” Jackson finished, his face serious.
Christopher was no longer laughing, either. The somber description of the future to come was terrifying. A thousand-yard stare flashed across his face as he sat in silence, the daunting task of figuring out how to survive foremost in his mind.
“I could go on, but I suggest you study for yourself what’s coming. The bottom line? Everything including the kitchen sink will be thrown at the world,” Jackson concluded, standing to go to his room.
“Awesome. I had the chance to avoid all this, but I refused to see the truth,” Christopher said glumly.
Jackson stopped in the hall leading to his bedroom, saying, “Hey, man, don’t go down that road. We all missed the boat. God is gracious enough to allow us to have the chance to come to Him, even now in the midst of suffering, if we will only ask Him. Don’t wait too long to make things right with God, Christopher. You had no promise of tomorrow before all this started, but you for sure don’t now.”
“Jackson, I know I need to surrender in this one-sided battle I’m waging against God, but I honestly don’t know how to let go of the pain of the past. I’ve been angry with God for so long I can’t remember anything else,” Christopher confessed.
“Pain is a prison that Jesus died to release all of us from. If you would just walk out of the holding cell you’ve made for yourself, you would find the peace with yourself and God that you’re craving. Look, you’ve never made excuses in your professional career, so why are you making excuses personally for trusting the only one that has always been there for you—God?” Jackson asked sincerely.
“I get it, Jackson. I really do, but life is not so black and white, even for me who has seen more evidence of God’s existence in the last few days than I know how to acknowledge. But I do understand that we’re facing a life-and-death battle for the next seven years.”
“No, I’m not sure you do, Christopher. What you need to do is get over your little woe-is-me toddler temper tantrum of believing the pain hurts too bad to accept the only lifeline we have in this situation. Just don’t wait too long, man. In our line of work, and now with the dawning of the tribulation, each day will only get harder. And more dangerous. I’m gonna get some sleep. Wake me in the event of some kind of crisis,” Jackson said drily.
“Now whose sense of humor is horrible?”
Tapping first, Gabriella eased back into the Oval Office, only to find President Rodgers standing with his arms folded across his chest, staring out into the late-afternoon rainstorm.
“You wanted to speak with me, sir?” she said softly, seeing from his demeanor the heavy burden that sat on this man’s shoulders.
“Yes, come in, Gabriella, and have a seat,” President Rodgers invited, ushering her to a chair in front of his desk. “Mr. Cross has accepted my recommendation for you to become the head of intelligence in his new role as secretary-general of the U.N.”
“I didn’t know the U.N. had an intelligence division, nor that Draven Cross was the secretary-general of the U.N. That must have been some discussion going on in here,” Gabriella replied, shocked.
“Our brief meeting confirmed for me more than you understand at this point. Cross was voted in by the U.N. General Assembly minutes ago on the endorsement of Aguilar. In the meantime, you and I will execute our plan to stay ahead of this man. There seem to be no limits to his power,” President Rodgers stated direly.
“Yes, I can see the value of having insight into his future plans. I will hesitantly admit that Mr. Cross’s rapid ascent in power and authority has me questioning some of the recent descriptions of him that I’ve heard, of the biblical nature. So explain the plan, sir.”
“As we speak, a selection of our nuclear ICBMs are being transported to a remote location in Alaska, just in case they’re needed. Mr. Cross wants the world to denuclearize and send military forces to the U.N. under his control. I can only imagine why he is seeking to disarm the world, but in the same breath arm himself,” President Rodgers related drily.
“What? Are you really going along with that plan, sir? I mean to denuclearize and reduce our military strength seem to place this nation in a very vulnerable position.” Gabriella, astounded by what she had just heard come out of the president’s mouth, struggled to comment without sounding disrespectful of the man’s office.
“Gabriella, I would never willingly sell our nation down the river. However, it seems that others in our government already made a deal with Cross before his ever walking in here today. As a result, I am politically isolated, at least for now. I have a feeling a few other countries are not going to just lie down for Cross. We will plan and hope that a war doesn’t erupt over this. I’m hoping that you can now see the significance of his acceptance of you into his inner circle.” The president leaned forward on his desk as he looked at her.
“Yes, I can. When do I have to report to New York?”
“You start later this week. I’ll hold a press conference tomorrow afternoon, saying we support peace and are committing forces to the U.N. to ensure the stability of the world from a centralized government. This is political suicide for me, but I don’t really see the country as we know it surviving to the next election cycle anyway. I want Omega Group to head to the Alaska site to ensure everything goes well with our hidden nukes.”
“I am on it, sir. And, Mr. President, I hope this goes without saying, but I won’t let my country or you down in this new role,” Gabriella promised.
“I’ve never worried about your commitment to this country or even to me, my dear Gabriella. I worry about your soul. Listen to me for a second. I know that you believe in science and logic, but don’t be blind to all that the Bible is saying about these historic moments you’re now tied to. Please don’t allow yourself to be swayed by Draven Cross. I have a feeling he’s only beginning to demonstrate his power,” President Rodgers stated sadly.
“I can promise only to be open-minded, but thanks for caring. I’ll report in at least once a week via this, a quantum communications device,” Gabriella said with a smile as she placed the device in his hand. “It’s part smartphone, part computer, and virtually impossible to hack. Christopher and Jackson will each have one, and I’m leaving this one with you. The one I’m taking can be my farewell gift from Omega Group.”
“Godspeed, Gabriella. I will be praying for you.”
Christopher burst into Jackson’s room. “You’ll never guess the message I just got from Gabriella.”
“Man, this better be something serious, like the end of the world is happening, or I am going to shoot you,” Jackson replied.
Christopher laughed. “The world is ending according to you. Anyway, it’s about our next mission. Gabriella wants to talk about it in person, but not at the Pentagon. She’s coming over here.”
“What, here? To discuss a mission? Man, I have a feeling this is going to be something crazy.”
“Get dressed. She should be here any minute.”
“Sure thing, Chris. Anything in particular you want me to wear?” Jackson asked as he threw off his blanket, exposing his hairy arms and legs.
“Oh, man, I swear you’re the missing link. Just wear some clothes, you freak,” Christopher said over his shoulder as he covered his eyes and fled the room.
About an hour after sending Chris the text saying she was on her way over, Gabriella stood knocking on the apartment door. Though she could hear a noise inside, she had been knocking and waiting for several minutes, freezing in the twilight, when Jackson finally opened the door.
“Hello, ma’am. Welcome to our humble abode. Please enter,” Jackson invited with an outflung arm.
“Geez, what took you guys so long to open the door…and what’s that smell?” Gabriella asked, nose wrinkling.
“Oh, Chris, as you call him, has been vacuuming and is burning some incense. He has a foot-odor problem and didn’t want to offend you,” Jackson replied with a wink.
“Is that Gabriella?” came the loud inquiry from Christopher in the back of the apartment.
“Yeah, it’s me, swamp foot,” Gabriella called back, followed by loud laughter shared with Jackson.
Swamp foot? Christopher thought. What’s that all about? “Okay, I’ll be there in a minute,” he replied aloud.
Jackson had brought Gabriella a bottle of water and seated himself in the lone chair in the living room, leaving Christopher to sit next to Gabriella on the couch.
“Chris, you didn’t have to clean up or mask your foot-odor problem for me,” Gabriella murmured with fake sweetness.
Jackson choked on his water and laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair.
“Is that what you were told? It’s the country boy over there with the foot and other odor problems. I was just trying to save you from his stench.”
Jackson, still laughing, said, “Listen, there are two of us living in this small apartment. I would say the stench is half yours and half mine.”
“I would say your math is half wrong,” Christopher retorted.
“Well, I can see you two are getting along just fine, but a woman’s touch would be nice,” Gabriella asserted, placing her water bottle on the floor after looking around pointedly but failing to find either a coffee table or end table. “I came to tell you the fallout from the president’s meeting with Draven.”
“Look, if you expect me to wear a suit and babysit this guy on a permanent basis, I quit right here and now,” Jackson burst out, reclining in the chair.
“Do you want to hear me out, Jackson, or just keep making wrong guesses about why I came here this evening?” Gabriella questioned acerbically.
“Proceed, ma’am,” Jackson replied with mock penitence.
“Thanks. President Rodgers, like Jackson, believes there’s a strong possibility Draven Cross is the Antichrist. He wouldn’t say it as explicitly as I just did, but I know that’s what he’s implying. So after Congress sold the country down the river to Cross, he’s hedging his bets by sending some of our nukes to a black site in Alaska.”
“What? Slow down,” Christopher demanded, grasping his head.
“You heard me right. Apparently, Cross called the Gang of Eight and worked a deal for their support of his plan for world peace, namely, America denuclearizing and supporting the U.N. militarily. The Gang of Eight, Jackson, are the leaders in Congress, particularly for intelligence matters. But practically, they hold power over what gets passed and what doesn’t,” Gabriella elaborated.
“I am glad you read my mind, but I was trying to hold my questions until the end,” Jackson teased.
“So let me get this straight. President Rodgers is sending nukes to Alaska to hide them from Cross, then—with the approval of Congress—destroying the rest and sending conventional military assets to work for the U.N.,” Christopher clarified, disbelief etched in every line of his face.
“Yes, and the president has asked me to work for Cross to spy on him—I’ve agreed,” Gabriella reported, her face grim with purpose.
“What? You’re going to willingly go work for the devil?” Jackson asked, his disapproval clear.
“Yeah, I agree with Jackson. That is crazy, Gabriella. You don’t know enough about this guy. He seems like he could be ruthless to get what he wants.”
Gabriella stood and moved to the raised fireplace hearth, obviously agitated by the pushback from Chris and Jackson to the plan to which she had agreed. Her frustration clear, she said forcefully, “First, we don’t know who Draven Cross will be as a leader, but I’m willing to bet he is not hiding red skin, horns, and cloven feet—so he’s probably not the devil, Jackson. Next, having a spy in his inner circle is America’s best chance of figuring out his moves and how they might harm our nation. So get on board, guys.”
Christopher changed his tone immediately. “I can see you didn’t come here to hear our thoughts on this plan, Gabriella, so what does this have to do with Omega Group?”
“Chris, you’re the new Omega Group commander with direct reporting to the president. He wants you guys to make sure the nukes sent to Alaska remain secure and ready should the need arise. That’s your only mission for the foreseeable future.”
Jackson pushed the recliner back up and stood, saying, “Okay, I’ve sat here long enough being quiet. First off, ‘I told you so’ about Cross feels so right about now, but I won’t say it. Secondly, Gabriella, you have a lot of nerve acting like it’s no big deal to jump into the unknown abyss that is Draven Cross. That guy is the Antichrist. I don’t care what the president, Christopher, or you think. On top of that, missy, we care about you! Bad as I hate to admit it, that’s a fact. We don’t want to see you hurt or, even worse, dead, especially before accepting Jesus as your Savior.”
Gabriella suddenly crumpled. As the tears started, she began to tremble. Both Christopher and Jackson moved to her side, and somehow all three of them ended up embracing.
She was the first to find her voice. “What the heck is wrong with me, guys? In my desperation to find out who Draven really is, have I accepted a suicide mission?”
“All I know is that we both care about you and about our country. At the moment, it seems that both of you are in serious danger,” Christopher said gravely.
“Gabriella, if he catches on to your being a spy, there is no telling what he will do to you…or to America,” Jackson warned.
Gabriella pulled away from the embrace, saying, “I know, Jackson, but I need to find out whether he is the brilliant, logical person that I’ve always wanted the world to have as a leader or the Antichrist of the Bible.” She paused, then added, “Look, before I go, here are two quantum communications devices. You will be able to securely communicate with me and the president with these. They are GPS, Glonass, and Beidou enabled, solar powered and indestructible for the Jackson types. It makes your smartphone look like a string and cup.”
“Uhh, quantum what? Please tell me I can still play games on this thing,” Jackson begged.
“Don’t worry, country boy, I’ll teach you how to use this tech marvel,” Christopher promised.
Gabriella and Christopher both laughed.“The bottom line is, you have the most secure and capable mobile phone on the planet. I will so miss you two knuckledraggers,” Gabriella said, hugging both men before gathering her belongings and heading for the door. Christopher followed her and stopped her with a hand on her arm before she could open it. She turned back to face him, and they stood close in the entryway as he spoke.
“Promise me you’ll be careful…please. If you feel your cover is blown, just send us the word. We will get you out, I promise.”
Gabriella rose to her toes and kissed Christopher on the cheek before saying, “I know, Chris.”
Christopher walked with her to her car then stood watching outside his apartment complex as she drove out of the parking lot. As he watched her taillights disappear into the chilly night, he hoped that God would at least hear this one prayer. “Lord, please keep her safe.”
As Air Force One soared out of the DC metro area and up the eastern seaboard back to New York City, Draven was strategizing his next move in the American president’s meeting room aboard the executive aircraft.
“Evan, I need you to prepare the following resolution, as my first official act as secretary-general. I want a resolution pledging seven years of peace with Israel, guaranteed by all nations within the U.N. I also want to begin the groundwork for a single global currency. On the surface, it will be heralded as a measure to shore up the ongoing economic turmoil from the disappearances. However, it will also begin to provide me with more control over the world. Lastly, Evan, prepare to meet with all the major religious influencers and leaders in the world to move the world toward a singular faith, orchestrated by me. I will announce ahead of your conference, in Rome preferably, my full support for this interfaith movement. We need not waste the momentum this crisis has afforded me. I want to solidify my hold on the world immediately.”
“Draven, I’m glad that you brought—” Evan began but was interrupted.
“Excuse me, did you just refer to me by my first name?” Draven asked, getting up out of his seat and moving to stand in front of Evan.
“Yes, I just assumed it would not be an—” Draven again stopped Evan from speaking, this time by holding up a hand. “I am better than you, Evan, in every conceivable way. What would ever possess you to think we were equals or even friends? If you value your pathetic role in my service, then never assume anything for me. I will tell you exactly what to do, and you will execute it to perfection. If you fail me, you will only make that mistake once. Now apologize to me for causing me to lose my temper with you.”
“Sir, please accept my sincerest apologies for insulting you by insinuating that I could possibly be a peer,” Evan begged, sounding as though he might burst into tears.
Without acknowledging Evan’s words Cross turned his attention to Gemma. In a demeaning tone, he demanded, “Please tell me that you have arranged for my first press conference as secretary-general to take place on this flight.”
“Yes, sir, the press is ready for you at your leisure,” Gemma replied calmly.
“Have you figured out exactly who Dr. Gabriella Costa is? I want to ensure that Rodgers is not sending me some washed-up, tenured bureaucrat,” Draven spat.
“No, sir, I am not prepared to detail anything beyond what I initially provided you regarding Dr. Costa for the earlier meeting with President Rodgers.”
“You vex me, Gemma. In one breath you seem brilliant, and then in the next moment you fall flat on your lovely face. Get it together and provide me an answer by the time this plane lands in New York City. I will meet with the press in five minutes. Both of you, leave me now. I need to collect my thoughts.”
As Evan and Gemma hurried out of the presidental suite of Air Force One, Draven sought his spiritual guide for assistance. “Prince of This World, what should I do next?”
“Consolidate power,” the Prince replied in Draven’s mind.
“Exactly what I thought,” Draven agreed.
He stepped out of the presidental suite, ready to draw the world closer to him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I will be brief in my remarks here, as I am overwhelmed with the support by world leaders for me to lead the U.N. through this next chapter in the aftermath of the horrible disappearances. I will have several announcements regarding resolutions and plans for the days ahead, but I want to thank President Rodgers and the American people for leading the way. President Rodgers stated that America will denuclearize and provide additional military resources to the U.N. to help further the peacekeeping role this great organization champions.
“Additionally America has graciously provided me with Air Force One to use in my service to the U.N. I will take only a couple of questions now,” Draven said, almost magnanimously.
“Herb Katz, from the Boston Reader, so you really believe that an alien power took all the religious folks, including children, out of the world because they were the problem?”
“I believe that a forgotten power, alien in that sense, did, in fact, remove the harmful religious element from our world for humanity to unify and achieve our potential,” Draven agreed.
“You mean unify peacefully, with enhanced military capabilities under your leadership of the world?” Katz said, drawing ire from the press pool for asking the second question.
Draven chuckled at the brazen confidence of the reporter but did not fall into the trap of his question. “I admire your instincts, young man. You have great potential. My role right now is to lead the U.N. and convince the world leaders that peace is our only hope for a better tomorrow.”
Gemma quickly inserted, “There will be no further questions for the secretary-general,” as Draven headed back to the secretary-general suite of the newly acquired Air Force One.