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Monday, January 14th, 2013 | Uncategorized

A “Chris Johnson, Anglican Investigator” blast from the past

Part One / Part Two / Part Three

Part Four – The following takes place between 5:00 PM and 9:00 PM

5:00 PM – Hysteria had set in all over the world. Although the media reports repeatedly emphasized that there was, in the end, no safe place, some scientists speculated that some spots would be safer than others. For a while. So people everywhere started to run.

The St. Louis area was no different. As soon as the word got out, people ran out of schools and offices, wildly sped home and tried to find their families. This led to hundreds of car accidents which blocked roads and tied up traffic all over the area.

Like airports everywhere, Lambert International was swamped with desperate, frightened people, most of whom had no possibility of getting a flight anywhere. And since everyone who found their families had the same instincts, all the interstates were parking lots in nothing flat.

The four of us fought to get downtown to St. Louis University, driving over yards, driving the wrong way on one-way streets and driving on sidewalks now and then to get there. A trip that should have taken no more than fifteen minutes took almost fifty.

“How do you suppose the word got out?” asked Welborn.

“They let it out,” I replied.

“Why?”

“Simple,” said Price. “To make sure that even if we did discover where the control unit was, there would be no way that we could get to it in time. A really nice touch.”

“So we’re beaten then?”

“If we end up losing this,” I said in a low voice, staring straight ahead. “I intend to go down fighting.”

“Same here,” said Dale and Greg. Amy nodded but said nothing.

We finally made it to St. Louis University and found Stilton’s office building. The school was deserted and by then, there wasn’t much traffic left in downtown St. Louis.

There was no one in the building but the place looked as if it had been ransacked. Papers were strewn everywhere and computers and furniture were knocked down.

Stilton’s office was locked so Dale shot our way in. The office was undisturbed so Stilton had evidently left several hours ago. Griffith made a beeline for Stilton’s desktop computer while Welborn checked his laptop.

“The desktop hard drive has been reformatted,” said Greg. “There’s nothing there.”

6:00 PM – “There’s one e-mail on the laptop,“ said Welborn. “Everything else is gone.”

“What does the e-mail say?” I asked.

“’Please join us for our triumph. DBV.’ That’s it.”

“That e-mail was left for us,” said Price wearily. I could sense that even he was finally starting to lose hope.

None of us said anything for at least ten minutes. While I continued to search for something, anything, that might give us a clue where the control unit was, Dale, Greg and Amy just stood there and stared into space.

Then I saw it.

A notepad.

I picked it up and stared at it. Then I held it at different angles. Something had been written on it but I couldn’t quite tell what it was. “Dale? Do you have any Price’s Compound on you?”

“Yeah but what difference does it…?”

“A hunch!!”

He handed me a jar, I gently spread some over the pad and shook the residue off on to the floor(I didn’t much care whether I messed up Stilton’s office or not). The compound, which reacts to paper with bent paper fibers clearly revealed some writing. “Take a look at this,” I told the others.

The notepad now read, “Days Inn. KC. 246.”

“Dale,“ I said, “Punch up MASTERKEY, will you?”

Price quickly accessed his server, called up MASTERKEY, government software that he and I are the only civilians authorized to use, got into the Kansas City Days Inn computer system and checked Room 246. “Wow. Christopher Hathaway. Wonder what he’s doing in Kansas City?“

“What difference does it make?” Greg told me. “Even if you could somehow scare us up a plane, we couldn’t possibly get to Kansas City in time.”

“So we’re back to square one,“ said Welborn who sounded like she was about to cry.

“Not yet,” I replied. “Try the Kingdom City Days Inn.”

Dale entered it and looked at the name. “Some guy named David B. Vinney. I don’t know why that would…wait a minute. David B. Vinney…Dorset Blue Vinney!!”

“Kingdom City’s two hours away. Let’s get out of here.” I tossed Price the keys. “You drive. I’ve got a feeling that we’re going to be doing some serious off-roading.”

The four of us sprinted to the Jeep, jumped inside and sped away. Since I know every road in Missouri, it wasn’t too hard to work our way west by back roads, particularly since everyone was making for the interstates.

7:00 PM – We had to cross the Missouri River on a railroad bridge but at least we got across, something I worried a great deal about. Then we sped west over back roads and a fair amount of Missouri farm land. I imagine that if had they known who drove across their land, more than a few Missouri farmers would sue us but I guess it didn’t much matter at that point.

Now and then, we saw groups of people praying out in front of churches. I guess these folks realized that there was no point in running so they did the only thing left to do. What was neat was that you couldn’t tell who was who.

Somewhere I saw a woman saying a rosary next to a man praying in tongues. It was an inspiring thing to see, Catholics and Baptists and Methodists and Episcopalians and Pentecostals all praying together.

My phone rang. “Baby,” whispered Nicky. “What do I do?”

“Nothing. Sit tight,” I told her. “There’s not much point in running. Anyway, we’ve got a lead that we’re following up now. But if that doesn’t pan out, at least we’ll still have each other. And Paul.”

“Chris, I’m scared.”

“So am I. But if I’m going down, I’m going down on my own terms.”

“I love you.”

“I love you more than you can possibly comprehend.”

Amy, Dale and Greg called their families and told them pretty much the same thing I told Nicky. Griffith was the last to finish and when he hung up, none of us said anything at all.

We were officially all-in.

8:00 PM – At US Highway 54, we turned north. The road was still crowded with people trying to get out so we drove on more than a few yards and knocked over more than a few mailboxes to get where we needed to go.

At the Kingdom City Days Inn, we left the Jeep and ran inside. The lobby was chaos. Hundreds of people pleaded for some kind of transportation out while the harried staff tried to keep up, an impossible task.

I thought about going through the desk but decided against it. The four of us fought our way through the panicked crowd until we got to Room 246. I knocked on the door. “Mr. Vinney?” I called out, motioning my associates to the left. We drew our guns.

When the door was opened wide enough, we burst our way in. At a table in the middle of the room, Cardinal Roger Mahony stood next to what I assumed was the control device. “STEP AWAY FROM THE UNIT, EMINENCE!! NOW!!” Welborn snarled, pointing her Glock at his head.

“Do you know who I am?” Mahony demanded.

“Don’t you know who you are?” asked Dale.

“Have a seat, Stilts,” Griffith said, pointing his gun at a man on the other side of the room. “And keep your hands where I can see them.”

“I can have you excommunicated!!” shouted Mahony.

“Take your best shot, Rodge,” Price told him.

“You too, Mrs. Schori,” I called out.

A door opened and Katharine Jefferts Schori entered the room. “How did you know?” she asked me.

“The distinctive fragrance of Eau de L’Inclusion.” I replied, walking over to the control unit. “It’s the perfume of choice at TEC these days.”

“Excellent catch. In a way, I’m glad you’re here. I’m better than that idiot Griswold, Mr. Johnson, and you might as well learn it now. You will see the totality of our triumph.

“You have everything but you don’t have the disarm code and you never will. We have gone from victory to victory to victory to victory and we will keep on winning until we eradicate you orthodox vermin from off the face of the earth!”

I looked at Dale, Amy and Greg who looked back at me. Then I silently stared at Schori for a very long time.

“Five minutes, Chris!” Amy called out.

I looked at the control unit. Then I reached down, entered 1962197620032006 into the keypad and hit ENTER.

Immediately, the word “DISARM” appeared on the display. A moment later, Griffith’s phone rang. He answered it and jerked it away from his ear because Kay Lewis was screaming, “THEY’RE SHUTTING DOWN!! THEY’RE SHUTTING DOWN!! OH MY GOD, THEY’RE ALL SHUTTING DOWN!!”

About a minute after that, Sarah Hey, Greg’s aide, came on the line and announced breathlessly, “Greg, they’ve all been disarmed. They’re in our hands. We’ll get started on the destruction immediately.”

I looked at Schori, Mahony and Stilton. All were shocked beyond measure. Then without a word, I walked over to the minibar and made myself a bourbon-and-soda.

I figured Welborn and Griffith would be surprised but I was impressed to see that even Dale was stunned. “How…how…how…?” was all Schori could stammer out.

“Because I‘m the best there is or ever will be,” I told her, sipping my drink. “You’re quite correct, Kate. You’re not Frank. But you’re not me either. And me on your side is never going to happen.”

Stilton was too staggered to talk but Mahony managed to say, “We won’t go to trial. You know that.”

“Perhaps not,” I replied. “But I also know that the four of us are going to be watching the three of you until the end of your days. So as long as you’re here, why don’t you enjoy Kingdom City? The McDonald’s up the road appears to be open.”

Epilogue

The four of us walked out into the night air. “Okay, dude,” said Griffith. “I can let a lot of things go but not this one. How the hell did you know?”

“Yeah, C,” added Dale. “Where did you get that code?”

“Schori gave it to me,” I told him.

“What?!!”

“Schori’s an Episcopalian and they’re the most predictable people in the world, ’Victory to victory to victory to victory.’ Liberal Christianity’s high points. 1962, Vatican II. 1976, women’s ordination in the Episcopal Church. 2003, the consecration of Gene Robinson. 2006, the consecration of Kate Schori.”

“My God,” whispered Welborn.

Since just about everybody in Missouri was heading west, we pretty much had eastbound Interstate 70 to ourselves. The word seemed to have been passed along the line fairly quickly because right around High Hill, we noticed that people began to cheer wildly as we drove past.

As we drove east, the applause got louder and louder and I noticed several media helicopters had begun to follow our progress. At the Missouri River, we got a police escort to Lambert Airport, millions of people lining the way and screaming as we passed.

At the airport, we were directed right on to the tarmac. “This is nice, we really appreciate it,” I told a Missouri highway patrolman, “but we’ve got planes to catch.”

“You’ve all got one plane to catch,” he replied, pointing back over my shoulder to where Air Force One sat waiting for us. “The President sent it.”

The press conference at St. Louis was even bigger than the last one. “Uh, guys?” asked Welborn. “I’ve never done anything this big so any help would be greatly appreciated.”

“The key,” Griffith told her, “is to look like you’ve been here before. Try looking a little bored.” Dale and I grinned at each other.

We gave the press about half an hour and then got on the plane. None of us said anything. We flew to Washington where we met the President, his cabinet and just about every single member of Congress, had another presser, even bigger than the one in St. Louis, and got back on the plane.

We were just about to touch down at Kennedy when Price looked at me and said, “They’re never going to let us out, are they, C?”

“Doesn’t look that way,” I told him with a hint of sadness.

I’d thought I’d seen crowds before but I hadn’t. When we got off the plane at Kennedy, the roar was literally deafening and all I could see were people in every direction. We got through yet another press conference and then were escorted to our families.

Nicky and Paul both stood there smiling at me. My wife slowly shook her head. “Wow,” was the first thing she said to me.

“Yeah,” I said, smiling back at both of them. “I know.”

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