Dead Man Running (36 page)

The subway took on its new passengers but
Mira
Hidar
did not see.  Her tear covered face was inside a trash can, the contents of her stomach decorating the plastic bag which lined
it
.

She lifted her head – the train was gone, its passengers treated to the sight of yet another
New York
party girl losing her lunch.

She wiped her mouth
with the back of her hand
and sat on a bench. 

Her face was hard set granite.  There would be no more tears today. 

As she waited for the next
t
rain she created a blocking spell that would
permanently
prevent others from
determining the truthfulness of her words
. 
She got lucky back at
Columbia
– she was able to quickly defeat the probes of Wiley's battery of mystics. 

She
was
more powerful than they were combined.  Inside her were the learning's of one hundred and fifty generations of magicians.  Her power was from God
, a payment extracted to allow Moses and his people
safe
flight from
Egypt
.

She sat on the cold bench as the space began to fill once more with riders. 
As she waited for the train s
he thought hard on how to
bring about the destruction of Ben Wiley and all
that
he held dear.
No one messes with the
Hidar
's and gets away with it.
Not
the
God
of Abraham
and certainly not some power crazed zombie.

Deep inside Benjamin Wiley the old preacher stirred.  As he walked through the front doors of
Abyssinian
Baptist
Church
with his Muslim guests he imagined God speaking to him.  The democratically elected leader of the
Republic
of
Iran
followed closely on Wiley's heels.  The small man with deep set scary eyes took everything in, as he had in their other
Harlem
stops.  They had visited the Audubon Business and
Technology
Center
, the former site of the Audubon Ballroom where Malcolm X was gunned down in 1965. 
Ahmadinejad
said a prayer there, right in the lobby of the place as
Columbia
students, many Jews certainly, milled about.  They visited Theresa's and the man had some fried catfish and grits. 

He seemed to enjoy the food but it was not clear what the man enjoyed because his expression never changed.  Wiley observed that the man came most alive when there was something to hate, like the Jewish children
whose tour of the Apollo Theatre was cut short because of the VIP visit.  The Iranians took great care not to touch any doorknobs lest they get dead Jewish skin cells on their own olive skin.

This was their final stop and Wiley was confident that all preparations had been made.

The Iranian UN representative had been converted by a g-string wearing zombie as she performed a lap dance on the diplomat at his favorite
North Jersey
strip club, Frank's Skanks.

The representative had been provided zombie bombs which he used to convert the entire Iranian UN delegation, including the security contingent.   They then converted Ahm
a
din
e
jad's advance party, including several of his relatives.  All that was left was to convert the president and his personal security detail.  Wiley had chosen Abyssinian as the place to 'baptize' the Iranian president in his new religion, that which worships the power and majesty of the undead.

Ahm
a
din
e
jad
strutted ahead of the rest of the group as Abyssinian's assistant pastor conducted the tour.  Finally the Iranian president climbed up to the pulpit.  "Speech here" he said in his very limited English.  Wiley smiled, nodded and gave the signal to his followers among the Iranian security contingent.  Before Ahmadinejad's other security guards could pull their weapons, the zombie guards had incapacitated the men with
darts laced with chloral hydrate.

Ahmadinejad stood frozen, comically still in the pulpit. 
"What is the meaning of this?" he said in Farsi.

Wiley spoke to his borrowed State Department translator, another of his converts.  "Time to join the
latest
revolution, my friend," he said and the translator conveyed the words to Ahmadinejad.

The man looked confused and even more so as his
white haired
uncle rolled a zombie bomb in his direction.

Ahmadinejad tried to flee but the bomb accelerated and caught him as he reached the door which led to the pastor's cloak room.  The bomb deployed as designed and soon the leader of the
Iranian
Republic
lay dead in
one of black
America
's citadels of freedom and justice.  The bomb continued its work and soon zombie Ahmadinejad joined his new leader.

Wiley shook the man's hand and they had a conversation, in English.  It turned out that the man spoke perfect English but was pretending otherwise to tweak the West and win points among his people.

Wiley explained what he wanted the man to do.  Ahmadinejad readily agreed and made suggestions on how to win over the true power holders in
Iran
, the clerics.

The group left the church with all smiles for the cameras.  It was the first time many in the foreign press had ever seen Ahmadinejad's teeth.  It was a becoming look for the man – it seemed to humanize him for those taking his picture.

Two days later, hours after Ahmadinejad's speech at the historic
Harlem
church, the president met with his national security team in the
W
hite House Situation Room.  It was
a principal's
only meeting with the vice president, the CIA Director, the
acting
NSA
Director
, and the Secretaries of State and Defense.

Along with the president's political director, David Axelrod, the group watched Ahmadinejad's address in its entirety.

"How confident are we that the translation is correct?" asked Obama.

The CIA Director leaned forward.  "We had dozens of Farsi experts translate it, cross blind.  Except for a few inconsequential words here or there the translation you saw was spot on."

"Did he really say that he welcomed the Jewish state into the brotherhood of mankind?" the vice president asked.

"Forget that, did he really disavow all forms of terrorism and vow to partner with 'his brothers' from the
US
to destroy al Qaeda and the Taliban?" asked the Secretary of Defense.

The NSA
Director
nodded.  "As we speak he is in Tel Aviv.  We have eyes and ears in the room providing real time intel.  He actually apologized to Netanyahu for his statements regarding the Holocaust.
  He has offered to fly Israeli nuclear inspectors back to
Iran
in his personal aircraft and drive them into his nation's most secure facilities."

"What kind of game is he playing?" asked the Secretary of State.  "No one has an about face like this."

"My people think it's some kind of religious conversion," the CIA Director said.  "We think his conversion happened at that church in
Harlem
."

"Abyssinian," the president said.  "I
f
this is a game, what is the point?  Why completely open your doors to
Israel
and the West?"

"Perhaps they finally realized that their present course could lead to regime change
,
" suggested the vice president.

The NSA
Director
shook his head.
  "They know we're not going to start another war, and that we won't let
Israel
start one either."

"Then I don't understand the change," the vice president said.

"What about the clerics that really run
Iran
?  What do they have to say?" asked the president.

"They're in alignment," the NSA Director responded. 
"
They appeared on live TV to disavow their evil ways.  They said they would no longer support war and terrorism abroad.  They agreed to dismantle their nuclear program, even the peaceful parts."

Most around the table shook their heads in disbelief.

"What did Wiley have to say?" asked the political director.  "The media is portraying him as some kind of hero.  We have to be careful because he's getting all the credit."

The president brushed away his close friend's concern
s
.  "I don't care who gets the credit, David.  If this leads to a nuclear free
Middle East
, if this leads to an elimination of terrorism, then there will be credit enough to go around."

The others nodded
as the president continued
.  "I spoke to Ben.  He said that the man genuinely changed during the course of his visit.  He said the final conversion happened in the church."

"Wow," said the Secretary of State.  "What a load of bull crap," she exclaimed.

"Whatever,
Hilary,
Ben got results.  After years of talking we've eliminated a tremendous threat to our nation and the planet."  The nation's top diplomat sat back
as if slapped
.  S
he
clamped her mouth shut with the rebuke.

The political director threw State a bone.  "I suggest, Mr. President, that we portray the breakthrough as the result of years of diplomacy by us and Bush."

"Why give Bush credit for anything?" the vice president asked. 

"Because it's the right thing and the bipartisan thing to do," the president said, ending any argument.

"It'll really play well in 2012," Axelrod added.

"People, where do we go from here?" asked the president.

"You can hear a pin drop in
Lebanon
,
Syria
,
Iraq
and
Afghanistan
," the Defense Secretary said.  "The bad players everywhere are afraid of
Iran
turning from protector to enemy.  They've all gone to ground.  None of our troops have been attacked anywhere in over twenty-four hours."

"I think our next step is to take advantage – get the Syrians in the fold.  Use our new Iranian friends to put pressure on them and their Hamas buddies.  We can sweep the
Middle East
clean of every enemy regime or
terrorist
group
,
"
the Secretary of State said.

The president turned toward his chief diplomat.  "I want an action plan within twenty-four hours.  We need to work with our partners to take decisive actions.  We have a chance to assure world peace for generations to come."

"Agreed. 
You'll have it,
sir."

He turned his hooded eyes to his Secretary of Defense.  "If
Iran
holds to its word, I need a plan of accelerated withdraw of US forces
from
Afghanistan
and the
Middle East
.  No use being there if there is no one to fight."

The Secretary nodded.  "You'll have it on your desk tomorrow, Mr. President."

The president stood.  "I look forward to moving forward with this.  I truly believe this is a watershed for our nation and the planet," he said.

He left the room and soon sat in his desk at the Oval Office.  He removed the NSA's warning on Wiley from the
book
of secrets.  He read the report once again and smiled while doing so.  He placed the report back in its folder and the folder back in its dra
w
er.  He stood and looked out the window onto the south lawn.

"Next, Ben, I sit you down with the Chinese.  Time to
increase the exchange rates."

TWENTY
-ONE

HARLEM
NEW YORK
– JANUARY 2012

Jan Sugerfoot, like most other little girls, dreamed of a storybook wedding.  Unlike most other little girls, those dreams most likely occurred while her stepfather
,
near three hundred pound of blubber,
forced himself inside her. 

Her stepfather – Mister Al –
certainly got what he had coming
. 

Every Sunday morning, when her mother was at work and after Mister Al had "given her some experience", she would have the duty of feeding the man who was stealing her childhood. 
One
particular
bright Sunday morning l
ittle Jan Sugerfoot add
ed
some fresh, plump blueberries and stale rat poison to Aunt Jemima's tried and true mix.