CHAPTER NINETEEN

“I know God will not give me anything I can’t handle. I just wish that He didn’t trust me so much.” Mother Teresa MMichael Walker didn’t flinch when he realized he had been recognized. All of their efforts to conceal their faces had been focused on the 180 people behind them so they hadn’t considered the risk of being recognized by one of the people in the jet’s cockpit. Walker rose from his seat and stepped into the aisle so he could stand up without being hunched over. “Hello, Martin.” The co-pilot, Martin Lundberg, was in his mid-forties. Too many layovers far from home had added a few inches to his waistline. He had a full moon face, with a good tan, and thinning brown hair. His eyes danced over to Penelope and stayed there long enough she shift ed uncomfortably. “I heard something about you on the news. Didn’t catch all of it. Were you arrested or something?” Walker laughed. “Obviously if I had been arrested I wouldn’t be on this fl ight.” “Good point. I must have heard it wrong,” the co-pilot said with a smile as he again sized up his chances with Penelope and decided it was probably a lost cause. “Look, Mr. Walker. I really need to get back, but it was great seeing you again.” Penelope leaned and whispered, “Who is this guy?” 182 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin “For three years he was a pilot for one of my corporate jets.” “You have multiple corporate jets?” “I don’t, the corporation does.” “There’s a diff erence?” “According to the IRS, there is.” “How come we’re not on one of those?” “Because we needed you to walk through the Cincinnati and Salt Lake City airports.” “Why?” “Trust me.” Martin Lundberg had hustled to the restroom and taken care of his business so quickly Penelope was sure he hadn’t had time to wash his hands. Yuck. The sound of the landing gear lowering could be heard as Lundberg passed back through the cabin. “He’s kind of creepy.” “He was a decent enough pilot but we had to let him go.” “Why?” “We kept getting some interesting charges on his hotel bill. Plus he looked at every woman in the company the same way he was looking at you.” “Do we have a problem?” Ellison asked as he leaned over the seat. “We’ll know in a few seconds.” “What’s going on?” Penelope asked “If we suddenly go back up into the holding pattern instead of landing that means Lundberg radioed ahead that we are onboard. If we land, then we should be okay.” Timothy Ellison turned and glanced back into the coach section of the plane and pointed to the luggage rack. “What’s going on,” Penelope asked. “Plan C,” Walker answered with quick laugh. Looking around to be sure no one was watching, he asked, “May I have your wallet and passport, please?” She handed them over without question. Walker removed all of the cash and handed it to Ellison. “Give her the other set.” Ellison handed Penelope another complete identifi cation package Penelope looked at the Ohio driver’s license. “At least I’m not a blonde anymore.” The wheels of the jet touched the tarmac and the plane began to slow down. The minutes seemed like hours as the plane taxied toward the terminal. 183 The Fourth Awakening Not waiting for the seatbelt light to go off and with their seats in the tiny first class section close to the exit, Walker and Timothy were able to position Penelope so she would be the first one off . “If we get separated, someone will find you and take you to the compound,” Walker whispered in her ear. “Walk straight out into the terminal and do not look back for any reason.” She nodded that she understood. Her eyes focused on the door, which seemed like it was never going to open. With a faint whoosh, one of the Flight Attendants released the handle and the door swung open. A commotion broke out to Penelope’s left as she heard an angry voice shout, “Hey! That’s my laptop.” Before she could turn to see what was causing the uproar, she felt Walker’s hand gently shoving her out toward the terminal. “Don’t look back,” he whispered. Suddenly Walker was at her side with his arm hooked under Penelope’s encouraging her to pick up the pace. They walked briskly through the terminal until they were well away from the gate but could still see Ellison standing near the door at the top of the tunnel. Back on the plane one of the passengers was apologizing profusely to the air marshal and the passenger he had accused of attempting to steal his computer. It seemed they had nearly identical laptop cases and they were both in the same overhead bin. The people began slowly fi ling off the airplane when the co-pilot Martin Lundberg joined the fl ight attendants and the air marshal who were chuckling in the galley near the exit. “I thought that guy was going to clock the other guy,” the marshal said with a laugh. “This has been a strange one,” Lundberg said as he interjected himself into the conversation. “First I see Michael Walker on the plane and…” “Michael Walker!?” The marshal shouted. “Are you sure?” “Of course I’m sure,” he smiled and winked at one of the fl ight attendants who rolled her eyes. “I was his personal pilot for 3 years and….” “You idiot.” Anger flashed in the air marshal’s eyes as he turned his full attention to the co-pilot. “Who else was with him?” “He was sitting with a good looking blonde and the guy behind them may have been with them.” The Air Marshal reached for his cell phone and started trotting up the tunnel pushing the disembarking passengers aside. “This is Preston. I’ve 184 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin spotted Michael Walker; he just deplaned at Gate D-11 of the Salt Lake City International Airport.” Walker had Ellison stay back just in case someone from the plane followed them. As usual, Walker’s instincts were correct. Th e marshal burst through the doorway and scanned the terminal while still talking on his cell phone. ”The woman is wearing a dark skirt…” That was all Ellison needed to hear as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, nearly $4,000 in fives, tens and twenties. Th e gate they deplaned from was at the end of a concourse arm with four waiting areas in close proximity to each other. Since this was a peak time of day, the terminal was packed. Even with several hundred seats in the general area, people were milling around waiting to board various fl ights. Ellison vaulted to the top of a ticket counter and grabbed the microphone out of a startled gate attendant’s hand. “Who would like some MONEY?!” He shouted into the microphone, as everyone looked up. He took about a third of the bills and tossed them as high and far as he could across an area where nearly two hundred people were waiting for a Seattle bound plane to begin boarding. As expected, a near riot started as people began diving for dollars and fighting over possession. The air marshal was swept up by the surging crowd and prevented from going any further. Ellison jumped down and snaked his way to the gate on the opposite side of the aisle. Bounding up on the now deserted counter, he grabbed the microphone and shouted, “There’s more money over here!” as he threw another handful of bills into the air. A healthy portion of the mass of people on the other side of the terminal surged across the aisle and began struggling with the people waiting to board a flight to Dallas. The airport security guards who were sprinting toward the end of Concourse D expecting to be looking for a man in a suit and a blonde woman in a dark skirt were confronted instead with a full-scale insurrection. There were now nearly 500 people pushing, shoving, and cursing. Ellison saw them coming and tossed the last of his bills in the air. Women were screaming, babies were crying. Men were exchanging punches. Ellison melted into the crowd and disappeared. Walker and Spence, standing in a West of Brooklyn gift store, watched the security guards sprint past them without a second glance. Walker 185 The Fourth Awakening grabbed a Zion National Park t-shirt off the rack and a Utah Jazz baseball cap. He quickly paid for them and handed them to Penelope. “Go into the bathroom and put these on,” he said, handing Penelope the shirt and cap. “Toss the wig in the garbage can.” Penelope, her breath coming in short gulps, nodded. Her eyes were the size of saucers and all of the color had drained from her face. If the sudden change of events frustrated Walker in any way, it certainly didn’t show. “We’ve made provisions for something like this.” His voice was soothing and his demeanor had the same serenity he had shown since the moment they had met. The man was imperturbable. “Go straight out the door of the main terminal and next to the car rental area and baggage claim you’ll find a shuttle service.” He pressed a boarding ticket into her hand. “Get on the shuttle to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Just visualize yourself on the Jackson shuttle. Okay?” “Okay.” “Nothing but good thoughts.” “I’ll try.” “Remember to release.” “Okay.” Walker locked eyes with Penelope. “This is critical. You must convert all negative ideas and images to positive ones and try to stay released. When you feel them starting to creep back in they must be replaced with good thoughts. Remember to stay released. Don’t just release the negative thoughts, make absolutely sure that you transform them fi rst.” “Why?’ “A negative thought has just as much power as a positive one. And in the early stages of development, even more.” “Look…” “No, you look.” Walker voice was still calm and soothing but had a firmness she hadn’t heard before. “This is not some pretend problem, or something to be sneered at by your reporter friends at a cocktail party. This is real world serious, and you have to do what I tell you.” “How in the world is what I’m thinking going to infl uence anything?” she snapped back at Walker. “All this New Age…” “Were you upset Saturday night?” “Of course I was upset.” “And at some point during the day did you have strong negative feelings 186 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin toward your house, and then totally release them?” Before Penelope answered, she remembered how she had wished the house would just go away. Or just burn down. She felt a chill tingle down her spine. “You’re not saying…” “Yes, I am. Your negative thoughts, amplified by being agitated, and then released are why your house burned down. That’s why I didn’t want you to be alone that night.” “You’re saying I burned my own house down?” “Yes. When we get you to the compound, we will have people who will show you how to control this, but right now you’re like a loaded gun in the hands of a toddler.” Penelope’s hands started shaking and her mind was reeling. “What should I do?” She asked meekly and fearfully. “You can start by not being so pigheaded and trust me just a little. Relax your mind and envision yourself on the Jackson shuttle. Do not allow any negative thoughts to slip in, and if they do just think ‘cancel, cancel’ and your mind will disregard the thought.” He patted her on the arm, and could feel her trembling. “Stay released and you’ll do just fi ne.” “Okay.” “When you’re moving through the airport, walk slowly. Don’t seek out people’s eyes but don’t avoid them either, and smile at everyone who makes eye contact with you.” He pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. A surge of energy rushed through her as his lips again kissed the middle of her forehead. Surrounded by chaos and thousands of people, she felt as if the two of them were in an energy sphere that was floating a few inches above the floor. Time stopped. There was no noise. There was no one in the universe but them. Her fear and confusion melted away. As he loosened his grip on her, she felt her knees starting to buckle but he didn’t allow her to fall. Steadying her on her feet, he said, “I’ll see you in a few hours. Jackson Hole shuttle.” He turned and melted into the crowd. Penelope went into the ladies room, pulled off the wig and put on the t-shirt. In the mirror she caught a glimpse of her face, which made her stop. Flushed with rosy cheeks, she hadn’t looked this healthy in years. What kind of power did this man possess? Stepping back into the concourse she stopped when she caught a 187 The Fourth Awakening glimpse of Walker only a few hundred yards away. Instead of running away he was standing as if waiting for someone. Walker nodded toward someone around the corner but out of Penelope’s line of sight. Walker walked briskly away and vanished into the crowd. A few seconds later three airport security guards came barreling down the concourse in pursuit of Walker. Before she could react, she noticed two airport security guards were walking straight at her. They were each holding what appeared to be a photograph and they were studying every woman they approached. Penelope tried to focus on the instructions Michael had given her. She closed her eyes and relaxed…. . LLess than 10 seconds after the air marshal made contact with Homeland Security, Zack “Zhack” Obee was already in motion. Obee, one of the “Twins” — computer whiz kids at Homeland Security’s Division of Emerging Technology — thought he might have Michael Walker in his electronic crosshairs for the first time since he had escaped from the Charleston brig. Looking for confirmation he pulled up the security cameras from the check-in at the Cincinnati Airport. Walker and the woman had managed to stay on the fringes of the camera’s viewpoints and both kept their faces covered or their eyes down. “Clever,” Zhack muttered. “What?” Troy Sabrinsky, the other “Twin” asked, looking up from his computer. “Just some geriatric who thinks he’s smarter than me.” Sabrinsky chuckled. “As if.” Obee and Sabrinsky formed the backbone of cutting edge technology at Emerging Technologies, or “ET”, as it was known by the other resident geeks. Obee, a world class hacker before he turned fourteen, was still three weeks shy of his twenty-first birthday but had been working for Homeland Security for nearly three years. Sabrinsky was two years younger but he had already graduated from Caltech with a triple major in Mathematics, Computer Science and Physics. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, from kindergarten through college, he had never answered a math question wrong. Sabrinsky had only been with the agency for seven months and his hiring was considered a major coup for Director Shepherd. No one could understand why anyone with his skill 188 Rod Pennington & Jeffery A. Martin set would want the job. The real money these days was in programming video games. Any number of high-level bureaucrats at the Department of Defense and National Security Agency would have given up their fi rstborn to have either on staff. Emerging Technologies had both. Zhack wanted confirmation before he notified the Director. He got the pictures he needed from the camera at the metal detector at the security checkpoint in the Cincinnati airport. Obee was able to get a full facial image from the security camera for Walker, Spence, and their traveling companion. He sent the pictures through the department’s face recognition system with a request that it look for known Hermes people first. It took just under three seconds to positively identify both Michael Walker and Timothy Ellison. Penelope Spence took only a few seconds longer since Homeland Security had started a dossier on her, including photos that were less than 24 hours old, within moments of her requesting to speak to Walker at the Charleston brig. “Okay, rich guy, you made a mistake.” “Dude,” Troy Sabrinsky asked, “You need me?” “No, this old fart is burnt.” “Whatever.” Sabrinsky shrugged and returned to his online Sudoku game. He was playing at the “Evil” level and tying to improve his personal best time of fi ft y-four seconds. Zhack called the Director to give him the good news. . IIt had taken one of the Homeland Security jets a bit under fi ve hours from the time Walker and Spence had been spotted to travel from Washington to Salt Lake City. As per instructions, the two detainees were held under tight guard and no one spoke to them until Assistant Director Robert Smith arrived. He was accompanied by Special Agent Marcus Wolfe and his prisoner transport team—eight of the scariest men imaginable. Because of the “Early Christmas”, as the news media was calling Walker’s diversion, the airport was still crawling with camera crews and reporters. “This doesn’t make any sense,” Smith said to Wolfe as they headed down the security tunnel to the holding center. “It is so unlike Walker to set up an elaborate diversion and still get caught. Especially when he’s with the woman he has to know we’re looking for. This is way out of character. ” “You give this guy entirely too much credit,” Wolfe sniffed. “It’s not like 189 The Fourth Awakening he can move mountains or walk on water.” Smith wasn’t so sure anymore. They were greeted outside the door of the interrogation room by the head of airport security, Hank McGee. McGee, a retired thirty-year veteran of the Salt Lake City police department, had built a tight crew during his eight years at the airport. He had managed to get rid of most of the bullies and hotheads with rent-a-cop mentalities, and had replaced them with former cops or recent college graduates. McGee pointed through the one-way glass. Walker was facing the window; Penelope Spence was sitting opposite him with her back toward the glass. Both were completely relaxed and both appeared on the verge of sleep. Walker’s eyes opened and he smiled and waved at Smith and Wolfe. “You made good time, Robert. I see you brought Marcus,” Walker said, his voice sounding tinny as it came through the intercom speaker next to the door. “Damned creepy,” McGee said. “He says hi to me every time I walk by. I have to get that glass checked.” “Did they ask for a lawyer, or make any other requests?” Smith asked. “None,” McGee answered. “Did he give you any trouble?” Wolfe said as he glared at Walker through the glass. “No. They allowed us to fingerprint and photograph them with no complaints.” “Anything else we should know?” Smith asked. “No. He did all of the talking; not a peep out of her. Said he wanted to wait and talk to you, which was fine by me. The sooner we can get these people out of here, the better.” Smith didn’t like this. Walker wouldn’t have gone to all of this trouble just to allow a few airport cops to catch him with Spence. What was he up to now? Wolfe handed McGee the transfer papers for Michael Walker and Penelope Drayton Spence. “They are no longer your problem,” Wolfe said as he reached for the doorknob. The Chief read the papers and frowned as he leaned back against the wall. “There may be a problem.” Wolfe and four of the prisoner transportation team entered the room. Walker and Spence off ered no resistance as heavy leather belts were strapped to their waists. “What kind of problem?” Smith asked. “This isn’t Penelope Drayton Spence.”