Storm Surge

Chapter 3

Chapter 3HIS HEADLIGHTS STREAMED across the playing fields behind the school, where the teams would soon resume their daily practices. In two weeks, the lot would again be bustling with teachers and students. Lights from a car turning in brought Fritz back to the evening. Not evening. Morning, very early morning.

Tony parked at the door and opened the rear hatch. “Hi, Tony. Let me help you with that.” Fritz reached for the generator handle and they carried it to just outside his classroom door.

As he had so many times in the past year and a half, he placed the now-wrinkled brochure for a White House tour on his desk, took a paperclip from the drawer, and placed it on the Oval Office picture. Back in the hall, he tapped the doorknob.

“Are the planes up yet?” he asked. “It just hit me. It's been a year since you figured this out.”

Tony had calculated the mix of electricity and turbulence that opened the portal. The generator provided the power. They would wait for the turbulence from above. “Wow. We've sure been busy. They should be in place pretty soon,” Tony said.

When the expected buzz tingled Fritz's fingers, he pulled the door open.

“Hi Fritz. Hi Tony,” said the president, stepping through the portal. “You remember General Beech. Let's go in here,” he pointed to the classroom across the hall, “and I'll tell you what we're doing.” He pulled a folded page from his jacket pocket. “We're fetching Florian Declercq. He's at his office. Here's the floor plan.”

The general said, “We don't want him talking anywhere where others might hear. We've been through that before. He's been invited to join the Caballeros.”

Fritz set the portal to Belgium, and moments later, Florian Declercq entered the school hallway. The president reintroduced Fritz and Tony. Fritz said, “Nice to see you have a new wardrobe, Mr. Declercq.” Florian chuckled, remembering his last trip through the portal in his underwear.

“I've found a new tailor. In Brussels. Not as much fun as London, but safer.” He greeted his friend, General Beech, and then the president, before glancing up and down the hall. “I will never grow accustomed to this sight.”

“Florian,” said General Beech, “sorry for the cloak-and-dagger, but I didn't want to press our luck.”

“Mr. Declercq, you're aware that we've been tracking the Caballeros for quite a while,” said the president. “You might not be safe, or free to speak openly.”

“After our London adventure, I could not delay informing you. But the invitation seems innocent, the normal course of business. The gentleman explained he represented an exclusive group of men and women interested in international commercial cooperation.”

The president's glance warned Fritz not to speak. Even though chasing the elusive Caballeros had left a trail of dead bodies, Fritz held his tongue.

“Mr. Declercq, I'm sure you followed the stories of the death of Mr. Massoud, as well as other wealthy businessmen last spring. They were all members. We captured two who then succeeded in committing suicide right under our noses. The one remaining at large seems to be restocking the cupboard.”

“Florian,” said the general, “will you tell us about your meeting?”

For the next half hour, Declercq described everything he could remember. The man who had invited him sounded American, probably around forty, well-groomed, wearing an expensive suit. “I have his card.” Declercq passed an embossed business card to General Beech.

“Peter Seymour,” said the general. The unfamiliar name brought blank stares and shrugged shoulders.

“I assume he merely served as an emissary. Not one of them. Rather like a salesman for something people shy away from, like coffins. Very reserved, soft spoken, but with dead eyes.”

“Like a shark,” said Fritz. Declercq agreed. “Mr. President, we've seen that before. The guy Jim Shaw shot, the one that killed Steve Sullivan.”

The president stopped Fritz with a subtle head shake.

Declercq continued. “They are having a meeting on Saturday in New York.”

The president's focus drifted to the long distance stare Fritz had seen before. The president listened, finally asking, “Are you planning to attend?”

“I thanked Mr. Seymour for the invitation and said I would call tomorrow if my schedule permitted. Your project is keeping me quite busy, Mr. President.”

“I'd like to talk to you more about that, but at another time.”

“Please call me Florian.”

“Florian, thank you. Your attending would help us. Exchange business cards, find out who else will be involved.” The president waited, but Declercq didn't commit. “If you go, please be careful. They are dangerous, and they don't take prisoners. They'll be cautious. You'll be monitored.”

“I haven't decided to go. I have a business and a family to consider. Believe me, I would like to assist you, but I'm concerned that once I have entered that door, I won't be able to leave.”

“Florian, we can't force you,” said the general. “But if you can inform us where the meeting will be, a specific room, maybe we can stop them.”

Declercq glanced quickly at his wrist. “Jim, my morning is starting and I will be missed. Let me consider our conversation. I will call you later.”

In a snap, Declercq returned to Belgium. “Thanks, Fritz,” the president said. “We'll go now too. If we need to meet him again, can I count on you?”

“Of course.”

Fritz opened the door. The president shook his hand and whispered, “What I've told you before about your not putting yourself first. Declercq just did.” One step later, the president entered the Oval Office.