Core Beliefs - Chapter 63 - Quarantine

Core Beliefs – Chapter 63 - Quarantine

They crossed the border without further incident and reached the outskirts of the small city. The airport was less than five miles away.

“I have a feeling that something is not right,” Ling whispered to Matt. He looked into her eyes, and her mind. Saw her fears.

“I understand.” Matt kissed her and then slipped away. He needed to find people.

“We need to check things out,” Matt had called a halt to the caravan and cornered Senator Coldwell.

“I’ll call the US Embassy. Let them know we’ve returned from the medical mission and will shortly fly out.”

The response wasn’t what the senator expected.

“The Administration wants to know what in the hell’s been going on,” the local ambassador said. “The Imperial General is making wild allegations that you started a war against him!”

“Ambassador,” Colwell said, “I can assure you that we have been planting crops, tending the sick, and helping thousands of innocent people. Now, if someone wants to gripe about that, then bring it on.” Coldwell bristled, “We are headed for the airport, and I expect your full cooperation in getting our people back to the States.”

“Yes, Senator,” the ambassador’s voice was less than enthusiastic.

Matt told the rest of his team to stay put until they were sure the way was clear. He, the senator, and a few others arrived at the airport about noon and found the chartered jet isolated near the edge of the airport, well away from the runway and hangars.

***

“We’re ready to begin loading so we can leave,” Matt had finally located an administrator to talk to.

“The plane had been quarantined,” the administrator said. “No one can board until it is cleared.”

“What’s it quarantined for?” Matt asked.

“I cannot say,” the administrator said. “I am only following instructions.”

“Who do you think is behind this?” Matt quietly asked Saulman as they huddled away from the administrator.

“I think multiple interests are at work here. My guess is there’s pressure from somewhere in our government, and I think someone locally is looking to cash in.”

“We need to find the flight crew,” Kenneth Hastings said.

“Secondly, let’s find out who locally is gumming up the works,” Matt said.

Once again, Matt and Saulman got an audience with the local airport administrator.

“The flight crew are all US citizens, yes?” Saulman Coldwell politely asked.

“Yes, and are well accommodated nearby,” the administrator’s words were equally polite.

“Is it possible for us to confer with someone to obtain the particulars of this quarantine?” Saulman asked.

“Your assistance would be most appreciated and rewarded,” Matt added.

“I may be able to arrange something tomorrow,” the administrator placed his hands on his desk, fingers folded, opening negotiations.

“Tomorrow would be fine,” Matt said, “but the incentive would be more significant if this could be resolved today.”

“It would need to be very significant to interrupt those who have authority for what you are asking,” the administrator said, a trace of a smile forming. “Can you imagine the value of such efforts?”

Matt picked up a pen from the administrator’s desk, requested a sheet of paper, and wrote a five-figure number. The administrator was impressed.

“That would be sufficient to arrange a meeting tomorrow,” the administrator scribbled on the paper, “but there are many responsibilities I would have to put aside. This amount would inspire one to forsake all to facilitate your needs today.” He slipped the paper back to Matt.

He had added a number to the left, making it a six-figure number.

Matt smiled, “Maybe tomorrow would be fine, or maybe the day after, or possibly a week?” He said with some finality.

The airport administrator was expecting the bargaining to continue, and Matt’s response was a bit disconcerting.

“A day, a week,” Matt said, “the press will want to know why a United States Senator is being detained.”

The administrator studied Matt and Saulman closely. “Possibly, there is another number you would find acceptable for me to abandon my duties, so I might make this happen soon?”

Matt pondered a moment, then wrote a higher five-figure number, handing the paper back to the administrator.

“I can have half the funds transferred today to any account you wish,” Matt said, “and the balance once we have an audience with the one who has the authority to resolve this matter.”

“I will make calls,” the administrator grinned.

Matt and Saulman were escorted out as the administrator lifted his phone from its cradle and dialed. After several minutes, they were escorted back into the office. “It is arranged.”

Matt took his cell and called Joe in Kansas City, startling him from a deep sleep. Matt explained the situation, and Joe said he would get right on it.

Matt eyed the administrator. “My end of the arrangement is in motion.”

“Give me your number,” the administrator said, “and you will be contacted shortly.”

Matt and Saulman were escorted from the administrator’s office back to their vehicle. Thirty minutes later, Matt received a call and an address. They would be expected at 6:30 p.m. local time.

***

He and Saulman, with Kenneth, took a cab to the address, which turned out to be a small palace, and were escorted into a

stunning parlor, where they were motioned to sit on an elegant, gold gilded couch in the Arabic style.

An older gentleman entered through another door and sat in a very plush chair across from them.

“I understand you are having a problem with an aircraft?” The gentleman spoke good English.

“Yes,” Matt said, “it seems there’s a quarantine on the plane, and we can’t get an explanation.”

The older man gazed at the three men. “It seems the quarantine is more about you leaving the country than the plane itself.”

“Is this issue from inside your country?” Saulman asked.

“Let us say that some are curious from afar about your recent activities. They have a significant influence here and wish to obtain additional information. They believe that you might be more conversational, if?” Sometimes, what is unsaid says the most.” The older man smiled widely as his eyes shifted from Matt to Saulman.

“Most interesting,” Matt said, “your information is very enlightening. Is there a way I could show my appreciation for your hospitality and possibly a token of appreciation for your counsel?”

“And what counsel might I provide?”

“That which profits us both,” Matt said.

The older man regarded them, in no rush to start negotiating. “Would you like some coffee? We have many excellent blends, but I find the Moroccan very pleasing to the mind and palate.”

“Your hospitality is appreciated,” Saulman smiled, “and if you have goat’s milk, that would be delightful.”

The older man nodded, grinned, and clapped his hands twice. Another stepped into the room, slender, younger, with a mustache and wearing white gloves. The older man spoke briefly in Arabic. Quietly, the younger man disappeared through the doorway.

“Clearing away the obstacles barring your departure requires some complex maneuvers, but not impossible.”

Matt looked at the senator before nodding. Matt asked for a pen and paper, wrote a number with additional notes, and handed it back. The older man read it slowly.

“Once we are outside your airspace,” Matt said, “this will be payable in gold. Included is a number to call. He will verify that we pay our obligations and are reputable men.”

The old man glanced at the paper again, “I will return shortly.”

It was ten minutes before he stepped through the door. The younger man had served another round of the ultra-strong coffee.

The older man chuckled as he slipped into his chair. “Yes, a most charming gentleman and someone with whom I am familiar. He has vouched for you. I accept your token of appreciation.”

“And how should we proceed now?” Saulman asked.

“I believe that possibly some instructions may have been misinterpreted,” the old man said. “I am sure the administrator at the airport will understand that you should be given access to your plane, and if a plane similar to yours requests departure, it would be an honest mistake if yours took off in its place?” The broad grin on the older man revealed yellowed teeth, but his eyes confirmed that arrangements would be made.

“Paperwork will be the undoing of this world,” he exhaled with an exaggerated sigh.

Matt sipped his coffee. The taste turned bitter as he neared the bottom.

“When will the crew be returned to the plane?” Saulman casually asked.

“They will be there in thirty minutes or fewer. I can assure things here,” the old man smiled, “but I think you will have other issues when you reach your destination.”

“But that would no longer be your concern,” Saulman said.

“No,” the old man stood, “we would not be concerned once you left our country, particularly if officially, you were still on the ground.”

They stood and followed the older man’s lead in bowing to one another.

The older man motioned to his manservant and instructed him to take them to the airport.

His last words to Matt, “The arrangements will be made, but I warn you, you should not delay your departure.”

“Our gratitude for your counsel; maybe we will have another opportunity to show our gratitude in the future.”

“It would be my joy.” The older man smiled brightly.

The ride to the airport took over thirty minutes. The second they were in the car; Matt called Doug and Ellie and told them to use whatever means they needed to get to the airport.

When Matt’s group arrived, the plane was moving towards the hangars. Once stopped, Matt, Saulman, and Kenneth boarded.

Kenneth spoke to the crew. They had been taken to a hotel and kept there but not treated badly. They confirmed the plane was fueled and ready to take off.

Matt and Saulman stood on the tarmac and watched the rest of the team approach. They made quick work of stowing the hardware in the cargo hold and getting everyone boarded.

In another fifteen minutes, they were in the air and in two hours, international airspace.

***

“Everyone, listen up.” Matt stood in at the front of the plane, the pa mic in his hand. “Our reception in the US may not be welcoming.” We need to look at options.”

“We could land outside the US,” Saulman suggested.

Matt considered that option.

I’m more concerned about the special hardware in the cargo hold being seized,” Matt paused, scanned the people seated in the cabin. “I think the risk to the team is limited. We’ve broken no laws.”

“Suchet, Chris,” Matt asked, “can we disable the hardware and be sure its functions can’t be revealed?”

“That and better,” Chris smiled, “we can make it disappear.”

“Please explain?” Matt asked.

“This was Ilya’s idea,” Chris said. “We added some nitrogen atoms to a second destruct vial. When they are introduced to the power module, it will cause a larger reaction by the antimatter.”

“The entire unit goes away,” Suchet advised.

“We can’t risk that on the plane,” Matt said.

Chris shook his head.

“If we could get the pilot to slow the plane and go to a lower altitude,” Suchet said, “we could program the units to delay destruct and send them out the cargo hold door.

“If we strap the individual shield units to the big stuff, would it also vanish?” Matt asked.

“Certainly,” Chris said.

Matt approached the pilots and told them what he needed. They agreed.

Twenty minutes later, Doug, Ellie, Suchet, and Chris were in the cargo hold preparing the units. Matt stayed with the flight crew, and when they reached the proper air speed and altitude, he notified Chris.

The co-pilot overrode the door safeties, and Chris opened the cargo door. In less than ten minutes, the units were gone.

Chris said, “Everything vanished before hitting the water.”

***

Landing in Atlanta, they expected to debark and go through customs. Unexpectedly, they were told to stay on the plane. They sat and waited for almost an hour. When the door finally opened, ten FBI agents boarded.

Everyone on Matt’s team remained calm, and Matt sat relaxed with Ling. Matt had expected the senator to confront the agents.

The feds gathered IDs, and one of the agents shouted, “Where are the rest? You left with fifty-one, and there are only thirty-five, plus three that didn’t go with you.”

“The rest are continuing the work in the camp in Africa,” Matt said.

“And who might you be?” the lead agent asked.

“Matthew Lehman. I’m the one responsible for this trip. I conceived it, planned it, and paid for it.

“If it isn’t too much trouble, I would like to know what interest the FBI has in a group of people returning from a medical and humanitarian trip?”

“We have been instructed to search this plane for contraband.”

“Search away, but is it possible for our people to get some food? We haven’t had American food in a couple of weeks.”

“No one leaves the plane until the search is complete,” the agent commanded.

“Could I get your name and badge number?” Saulman asked.

“Your name first!” The agent barked.

“I am United States Senator, Saulman Coldwell of the State of Missouri. Certainly, someone must have advised you that I was on this flight?”

Based on the tick in the agent’s jaw, he had not been advised that a US Senator was on the flight.

“We did not ask to leave the plane,” Saulman continued, “we asked for food and drink. Is that unreasonable? I think you must admit that we have been cooperative, no matter how misguided your instructions have been. We have complied.”

The agent mentally backed a couple of steps, obviously evaluating his next move.

“This should cover the cost.” Matt peeled off several hundred-dollar bills.

“The agency will take care of the tab,” the agent waved the money away.

He counted and sent four of his men away with instructions to hurry.

While the men were gone, the team members handed over their bags, and the agents looked carefully but respectfully through them. They went to the cargo hold and found nothing abnormal.

The food arrived to cheers, and Matt thanked the agents.

The FBI team was about to leave when Senator Coldwell called the lead agent, “Sir, I asked earlier for your name. I still require it and that of your superior.”

The agent complied, and the senator thanked him for his professionalism and courtesy. The senator had one more comment for the agent, phrased as a question, but everyone knew it was meant to be a statement.

“We won’t have any more surprises when we get to Wichita, will we?”

“I don’t think so, Senator. Have a good flight.”

Thirty minutes later, they were off the ground, and four hours later, they were saying their goodbyes at the airport, rejoining the family and friends waiting at the terminal.

Saulman Coldwell and his family spent the night at Armonia House, as did others. Suchet and his family also hosted several.

Matt invited everyone to breakfast at Armonia House. The food started early and did not finish until almost 10:00.

Eventually, people hit the road, and by noon, the house was relatively normal.

In the family room, Chris told Charlotte and the kids everything he had accomplished in Africa. They looked into his eyes and saw them burning with passion as he talked about the fields and the new houses going up.

“If only for a short time, in a small place, we have made a big difference, and it feels damn good!” he said.

Charlotte laughed. Her husband was home and more alive than ever.

***

Matt and Ling drove to Joe’s house, arriving early in the afternoon. Doug and Ellie had driven in the night before and had shared everything about the trip with Joe and Cynthia. The two young scholars were already on a flight back to Houston and back to school.

Matt, Joe, Cynthia, and Ling sat calmly and discussed the trip’s long-term effects.

Joe looked at Matt, “I was wondering when the government would start sticking its nose into things. Matt, once the scope of the technology starts to be exposed, you can count on more harassment.”

“I am sure you are right,” Matt said. “That was why the creative rights law was so important.”

“Matt, that may hold short term,” Joe looked at him seriously, “but just as it was voted in, it can be repealed. I think we need to look at a more secure solution.”

Matt perceived Joe had given substantial thought to the change in the status quo and judged it a very serious development; otherwise, Joe would not have presented it this way.

“Okay, bro, I have often begged you for advice, and now you volunteer some. I think I would be a fool not to listen.”

Joe outlined his thoughts. As usual, they were in a format that built a case that was impossible to refute.

“So,” Matt laughed, “your answer is we should have our own country?”

Joe smiled and nodded.

“I think it is a wonderful solution,” Ling said. “How do we do it and how long will it take?”

“I have already filed the preliminary papers with the World Court,” Joe said, “and with a little pushing, we might have recognition by Christmas, but we need people on the islands and a governmental structure.”

Cynthia sat patiently while the legalities of owning a country were discussed but had one question that burned in her heart. “Will I be able to be with my daughter when my grandchild is born?”

It wasn’t lost on Ling that Cynthia had referred to Charlie as her daughter.

“We plan to rotate them home in four months. Harry and Annabel are also due to leave at that time.”

***

Matt and Ling drove home the next day, sharing thoughts and ideas. When they arrived, Susan greeted them. She had cared for Timmy during the trip and was extremely glad to see them safe and well.

They cuddled with Timmy, telling him how much they loved him.

Ling spoke to his mind, ‘Your daddy stopped people from killing other people and made a safe place for them to live.’

Timmy smiled and spoke in the same way to both of them, ‘That is the best thing you could tell me.’ They kissed him and went to bed.

“Timmy needs a sister,” Ling whispered to Matt.

There was no hesitation. Matt would do anything to make this woman happy, and he liked the idea.

***

Over the next several weeks, stories began to appear around a forsaken refugee camp in the desert of Africa becoming a haven.

Monday, December 3, Senator Coldwell appeared on a national morning news show. He and Matt had discussed the appearance, and Matt had every confidence in the senator, though he said little.

A female anchor conducted the interview. She had a reputation for being direct and tough. The senator enjoyed interviews like this. He felt that if you could win someone like this over, you had an ally in the future.

The interview began on a mild note as the senator explained the purpose of providing these people with humane assistance. He spoke about how his wife and others had worked with the refugees to plant crops, and that he and his son had worked side by side with the refugees, digging irrigation ditches for both family and community fields.

He was animated as he talked about the joy these people felt in having even the smallest hope. The senator’s face lit up when he talked about the families moving out of tents shared by fifty into their own space.

“Senator,” the reporter’s questions became more direct, “we understand there was a military presence?”

“Yes, over two hundred troops from the local government, I believe?”

“Were you fired on during your stay?”

“You know, there was gunfire, but none ever affected the camp.”

“Did you attack these troops?” the reporter was starting to probe.

“With what?” Saulman laughed. “We had no guns, no ammunition. We went there in peace, in accordance with international law, on an authorized relief mission and had no reason or desire to fight with anyone.” He paused and gazed at her. “Our purpose was quite the opposite: to bring peace through prosperity.”

“But, Senator,” the reporter continued, “isn’t it true that these soldiers were disarmed and trucked away?”

“We had a chat with them,” Saulman said. “We asked them to choose among three options. The first was to continue serving in the military, the second was to go home to their families and not hurt anyone ever again, and the third was to join us in the camp and help build a city.”

“So, how did they respond?”

“More than half opted to go home, twenty-five percent decided to stay in the army, and the rest joined the camp. One more thing to note: they drove themselves away with the water and food we provided. No shots were fired, and no one was injured except for a couple of soldiers who were hit by one of their own trucks. We treated them, and they also left.”

“You want us to believe that without force of arms, these soldiers threw down their weapons and left of their own accord?”

“It’s a stretch to accept, isn’t it?” Saulman laughed, “but the facts are that they left of their own free will and that not one life was lost. I would say that is very remarkable, but not impossible.”

“Well, senator, this is an amazing story,” the reporter replied, “But what about building a city in the territory of a country against the government’s wishes?”

This was what the senator had been waiting for.

“I want to remind you that the government had started driving these people from their homes, five years ago, into the middle of a desert they knew could not support them.

“In the desert, they became wards of various aid agencies, who for all that time provided food and water, what little shelter they had, and basic medical attention.

“The government you speak of did nothing to help. In fact, it worked overtime to detain and delay shipments of supplies, and as a result, thousands of people died. If left in that government’s hands, all those souls would be dead. I think the word is genocide, and it fits!”

He glared at the camera, “My understanding is that location is exactly where the government wanted these people, and that is why we decided to help them there.”

Silence held for several seconds.

“The sad truth is,” Saulman sighed softer, “because these people are poor and have no international standing, the rest of the world deserted them to suffer whatever plight came to them. It was only through the private care of people that they have not only been kept alive but also have a chance to become self-sustaining and prosperous. Do you know what they have named the city?”

Caught off guard, she could only ask, “What?”

“Well of Hope.”

The interview ended. Matt smiled, “No mention of technology.”

“You know it will come,” Ling said.