THE LAST ARK

CHAPTER 12: STATELESS

Scott Home, Washington, DC Five Days Before Temple Ceremony

“ I’m glad you called,” Matt Adelson greets Jenn as he enters the admiral’s house, handing her a fresh cup of coff ee. “Are you OK?” “Oh, me? Sure, always an exciting time when you strip down in a portable hazmat unit with a bunch of strange women paying way more interest than they should,” she snips. “Th anks for having Henderson bring over some fresh clothes.” Within minutes of her call, military hazardous materials units showed up at the admiral’s home to disinfect her and seal off the house for decontamination. Neighbors in the upscale conservative neighborhood peer out of their windows, curious and worried. Enduring public attention was a curse of being the daughter of an admiral. “While you were in the shower, we confi rmed a likely nerve agent on the couch. Th e lab will tell us if it’s the same agent that killed your father. Either way, we need to clean the entire house before we let you back in.” Jenn sips the hot coffee, beyond exhausted, and still in a mild state of shock. How did the killer get inside the house? Why only the couch? It has been a long week, and she just wants to go home. Matt points to his SUV. “Clean-up will take a while. Come on, I’ll give you a ride home, and we can talk about the journal.” He holds up the book wrapped in a plastic ziplock pending decontamination. “I would also like that boot box,” she asks. “They’re from my mom.” Jenn subconsciously wants to avoid unnecessary government review, although that ship has sailed. Privacy is a luxury she just lost. Matt nods. “I’ll make sure that both get to you as soon as they’re clean.” Jenn touched the box, books, and the admiral’s journal with her gloves, which meant she may have contaminated the safe room. With little choice, she climbs into the back of the warm SUV. Perhaps Jenn can find peace knowing that old Captain Morgan would have been miserable without the crusty sailor. At least that’s what she wants to believe, to console her gnawing sorrow. “Tell me what made you call me, beyond a deceased pet,” Matt says, fingering the ziplocked journal. Jenn hesitates, unsure she wants to reveal that her father knew the outlawed SLVIA AI, but Adelson will learn soon enough. “Mostly personal moments of me, but then they change to include secrets passed to the admiral by the SLVIA code.” “What secrets?” Matt prods, without an ounce of surprise. Since they were close friends, Adelson may have known about the SLVIA interactions. Jenn sighs. “Evidence that the former president spoke with Putin about INVISID before approving it. Being the rigid man of protocol, the admiral planned to confront him.” “Where is the evidence now?” Matt asks. “Not sure; I would assume on the computers in the safe room,” she says. “Or if he showed it to the president, maybe his phone or a cloud account.” Matt stretches his neck, looking stressed. “There’s already a bill in Congress to have the national voter ID platform banned, but GOP leadership keeps f ighting the move. Either way, it may be too late; half the federal government uses the platform or biometrics,” he explains, leaning his head back out of exhaustion. “I should sue the FPOTUS for willful negligence just so I can put him under oath,” Jenn threatens, more out of frustration than any serious intent or delusion of success. Matt snorts. “Beyond the completely speculative nature of your case, and the classified source of your evidence, you may have difficulty serving the papers.” Matt pauses. “After a meeting with the New York DA, the president’s plane diverted over international waters en route to Saudi Arabia.” “Saudi Arabia,” Jenn blurts out in surprise. She immediately thinks they should scramble jets, but then realizes that they could never shoot the plane down and would have to back off as soon as the plane entered Saudi air space. “Since the last election, our relationship with the royal family has cooled. Last June we pulled defensive missile units out of the country because they were being used against civilians in Yemen. The current president has shunned the corrupt crown prince in favor of working with the now-deceased Saudi king. A move that both humiliated and infuriated the crown prince, now the new king. The king thumbs his nose at the US by offering the former president an invitation,” Matt explains. “An invitation for what?” “Asylum,” Matt replies. “The FPOTUS popularity in both Israel and Arabia may tip the scales on what has been an unpopular peace deal negotiation.” “Oh my god,” Jenn mumbles, thinking of how our allies, our adversaries, and the media will respond to this news. The right-wing media will go ballistic. “Jenny, we’re facing a national security scenario without precedent,” Matt states. “For the first time in our history, the US has a stateless former president.” “What about his Secret Service detail?” she asks. “Can’t they bring him in?” “Not without the cooperation of the Saudi government,” he explains. “In fact, we haven’t heard from the team since they left New York, which has us deeply concerned. One of them is someone you know—Geoff Rhodes.” “Geoff Rhodes!” she exclaims. Jenn and Geoff had an affair while attending Annapolis. When the admiral learned of the incident, he threatened to have them both expelled from the Navy, but the Annapolis Commandant dissuaded him. Even though they were severely reprimanded, and she broke off the relationship entirely, the admiral never forgave Geoff for jeopardizing his daughter’s career. “What can I do to help?” she offers. “Nothing,” Matt replies. “Seriously, get some rest, and stay low. You already have a lot to process. Grieve your father. Go visit your boat. Trust me, we’ve got this one. I’ll keep you informed as a courtesy.” At that moment, they pull up to her Reston, Virginia, townhome. Jenn knows better than to argue, so she nods her acquiescence. “Thanks for everything,” Jenn says before stepping out and up to her front door to watch the SUV drive away. Ten million questions swirl in her mind until she feels dizzy. Why did the admiral keep her mother’s old prophecy journals inside a floor safe? What happened to the video evidence? Who got inside the house? If the former president spoke to Putin, then he also shares culpability for the admiral’s death. She needs more answers and determines to find them.