VALKENSWAARD, THE NETHERLANDS
He had been known as Elijah many years ago. It was just a code name, but one that he’d put a great deal of thought into at the time. Elijah, to whom the mantle of God’s power was given.
Benjamin Fulcher reclined in the plush leather chair of his home office and took in the view of the pastoral Dutch countryside outside the window. Rolling fields and pastures extended far into the distance, dotted with sheep and cows and the occasional wind turbine with massive triblades rotating slowly in the breeze. The sky above was an unusual collage of high white wisps and darker, faster storm clouds near the ground. Ah, late autumn. What a splendid season.
The seventy-eight-year-old British expatriate took a long sip of tea from a china cup and thought about his biblical namesake, Elijah, a prophet who had received from God a mantle of awesome power and knowledge. Elijah wielded that power righteously for the good of all mankind and then passed the mantle to his worthy successor, Elisha, before being whisked away to heaven in a whirlwind. Fulcher rubbed his chin and pondered how interesting it was that the very first thing Elisha did with his newly acquired power was part the mighty Jordan River. Just as Joshua had done five hundred years earlier.
Yes, Fulcher concluded. A conspicuous display of strength and power meant to instill fear among Elisha’s enemies and inspire wonder and amazement in his followers. An earthly demonstration of the mysterious powers of the universe.
A brilliant strategy.
Fulcher closed his eyes for a moment and tried to visualize exactly what it must have been like when Joseph and Elisha parted the Jordan River. Was there a flash? How long did the process take? Was there extensive flooding upstream? These thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the intrusive ringing of a telephone. With effort, the man hoisted himself from his chair and, with the aid of his walking cane, made his way slowly across the room to the ringing phone. Curse this broken body.
Finally, he lifted the receiver to his ear. “Hello?” he said in a British accent, slightly out of breath.
“It’s Krupnov,” said a man with a deep Russian accent.
“Yes?”
“There’s been a signal from Thurmond. We think it’s Malachi.”
Fulcher closed his eyes for a moment, and a smile of relief slowly crept across his face. At long last, Malachi has returned. And the timing could not be better.
“But there’s a problem,” said Krupnov.
“Oh?”
“The tracking device . . . he apparently removed it. My men haven’t been able to find him.”
The smile quickly vanished from Fulcher’s face. “Vlad, I’m sure I don’t need to remind you of how important it is to find Malachi. He’s critical to our plan.”
“Of course I know that!” snapped Krupnov. “My men are looking for him as we speak. And if they don’t find him soon, I’ll go there myself to finish the job.”
“I’m sure you will.” Fulcher paused and considered what Krupnov probably meant by “finish the job” himself. It would not be pretty. Krupnov’s organization was known for getting things done, but not necessarily peacefully, or humanely for that matter. On the other hand, they had unique resources at their disposal that were absolutely necessary for this plan to work. Si guarda al fine, Fulcher mused. One must consider the final result. “The timing is interesting, don’t you think?” he asked after a long pause.
“You mean because of London?”
“Yes, Vlad. Carl Jung would have called this a splendid example of synchronicity.”
“I don’t know who the hell Carl Jung is. It’s just a coincidence, nothing more.”
Fulcher laughed quietly to himself. “Don’t you know what a coincidence is, Vlad?”
Krupnov was silent.
“A coincidence is merely God’s way of remaining anonymous.”
Krupnov sighed heavily. “Look, I don’t have time for philosophy right now. I’ll keep you posted on Malachi. Meanwhile, all the arrangements have been made for the London material to be brought to Severodvinsk. I trust you’ll be accompanying it?”
“Yes,” said Fulcher. “I’ll be there.”
“Good,” said Krupnov. He ended the call without another word.
Fulcher hung up the phone and walked painstakingly back to his chair with the aid of his cane. He sat down and took another sip of his tea, which he was pleased to find was still reasonably warm.
Before long, his thoughts were back with Joshua and Elisha and the parting of the Jordan River . . . and the awesome power of the Joshua Stone.