Twisted Linen (2 page)

The crowd cheers and chants as Cohen raises
his right hand high above his head, boldly forming the “OK” hand
sign sign. The crowd goes berserk, posting the hand sign back at
him. Cohen pauses for a moment, as if he is trying to make eye
contact with each person in the crowd.

Then suddenly … POW!

A gun shot rings out and echoes around the
convention center. Cohen’s head snaps back from the impact. Then a
small amount of blood appears dead center of his forehead. Cheering
stops and so does time.

David Cohen, the icon of hope and global
peace, stands dead on his feet with a bullet hole in his forehead.
As silence blankets the convention center, Cohen hangs for a brief
moment and then buckles at the knees, straight down like a kayoed
boxer.

A woman close to the stage breaks the
stone-cold silence with a chilling shriek, and then pandemonium
erupts. In the back of the Convention Center the sniper’s spotter
gestures with a quick head nod; it’s a confirmed kill. The sniper
conceals the rifle under his bekishe (a long black coat worn
normally by Hasidic Jews) and discreetly moves toward the
Convention Center exit.

Every TV broadcast cuts to commercial as
security personnel try to control the situation. Cohen lies
motionless on the ground surrounded by horrified supporters; his
eyes exhibit the vacant stare of death.

* * *

3

LaCroix

In Rome a silver, late model sports car
speeds through the narrow alleyways surrounding the Luiss
University. This is a driver that doesn't mind attracting attention
in the Municipio II district of Rome. His precision-cut dark hair
and slick designer shoes match the car perfectly, although the
shoes are a bit too
slick
for the tough times facing this
world.

The face behind the wheel is Simon LaCroix,
an urbane man in his mid-thirties. Simon is solidly built, the
epitome of devil-may-care modern English cool, trained in
hand-to-hand combat and an expert marksman with a sidearm.

The car tires squeal around a corner and down
another alley. Out of habit, Simon adjusts his Ray-Ban sunglasses,
and then expertly down-shifts before stomping the gas pedal.

Simon turns the car sharply, just on the edge
of control, entering a subterranean garage. The car carves its way
to a remote part of the garage and comes to a slow stop behind
another car. It’s a red Fiat, parked solo in a vacant area of the
garage.

Simon rolls down his passenger window,
urgently looking for the other car’s occupant. The Fiat door opens
and a leg emerges. It's a beautifully defined female leg, enveloped
in gray spandex leggings to the mid-calf.

It is Grace LaCroix stepping out. She’s a few
years younger than Simon, muscular but lean, possibly in better
shape than him. Like Simon, she is deadly serious when it comes to
their business affairs. Yet, her intensity is balanced by an
unwavering loyalty for those she loves, that being only Simon. Her
long fit legs, combined with her long dark hair, create an
unforgettable first impression. It’s always been that way and Grace
is used to it.

Today she’s dressed in Lulu leggings and her
favorite black sweatshirt. It’s a bit simple and informal, but
Grace can make almost any outfit look fashionable. The sweatshirt
is cut with a wide-neck that hangs from one shoulder. It’s loose
fitting up top and snug down around the waist. The stylish ensemble
is held together by a gold cross necklace worn just below the
hollow of her neck.

Grace slams her car door closed, pulls the
elastic of her sweatshirt down firmly around her hips and strides
toward Simon's car. She moves with a sense of urgency, obviously
annoyed.

“You’re late!”

Simon attempts to reach over to open her door
from within, but he gets caught in his own seat belt. Grace waves
him off as she approaches the car. “Don’t bother.”

Grace opens the passenger door before Simon
has time to free himself and she gracefully swings her legs inside
the car.

“Drive,” she demands while buckling-in.

Simon obeys; he knows he’s late again. The
tires squeal as the car speeds off.

“I am going to start telling you to be places
thirty minutes early,” Grace grumbles as she places a small box of
importance on the dash.

“I thought you were already doing that.”

“Am I?” Grace retorts. “Then maybe I’ll make
it an hour.”

Grace looks at Simon as if she is trying to
see behind his dark sunglasses and says, “Seriously Simon, we can’t
afford to blow this.”

Simon, a bit distracted, suddenly slams on
the brakes for a traffic light. Their heads snap forward and back
in unison. They glance at each other, and then Simon immediately
looks outside the car, examining their surroundings.

The public streets are in constant turmoil;
carjackings, kidnappings, and robberies are common occurrences. The
crime rate is through the roof, but that’s the “new normal” now.
Unlike the United States, the electricity still flows here in
Europe but most of the population is disadvantaged and suffering
greatly. Disease is rampant and food is scarce. It’s only a select
class, the ultra-wealthy, the
elite
, who have the resources
to live the way it used to be, the way it used to be before the
United States was crippled. But at this moment, in this particular
traffic intersection, the streets are vacant; it offers a rare
moment of peace and stillness.

“Have I let you down yet?” Simon confidently
asks.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, he
winces with a “don’t answer that” look. Simon quickly leans over
toward Grace, then a bit closer for a kiss. It’s a passionate and
spontaneous kiss, part apologetic but mostly to see if he and Grace
are “good.” Grace needs the kiss, an affirmation of her
importance.

As Simon separates from the kiss, he tries to
soothe her frustration. “I’m sorry I was late. I can do
better.”

Simon and Grace have recently undertaken a
lifestyle change, one of high-risk, high-reward endeavors. Each of
them is vital to the well-being of the other. Of late, it’s Grace
leading the charge. She’s the one sourcing the jobs, doing the
intelligence gathering, negotiating the deals, and keeping the
clients happy.

“You’re forgiven…again,” she replies with a
quick nod.

The stop light turns green and Simon drives
toward a security checkpoint. It’s the designated entrance into a
barricaded and restricted part of town. It’s a lavish area where
the elite still gather often, and they tightly control who are
considered “guests.”

The security guard extends his hand,
signaling Simon to stop. Simon complies.

“We’re here to see Mr. Yiguan. He’s expecting
us.”

“Your name?” asks the guard.

It’s a rhetorical question because the guard
also presents Simon with a biometric hand scanner. It uses infrared
light to take an image of the veins in the palm of the hand. The
pattern of veins is a uniquely identifiable pattern for each person
and this new “palm vein imaging” technology is more accurate than a
finger print, and it’s much harder to fake.

Simon complies by placing his hand over the
infrared light. The reason for all this security lies straight
ahead. It is the Parco dei Principi Roma, an urban resort in the
heart of Rome. Minus the crowds of yester-year, everything appears
normal on the grounds here.

“Password,” the security guard demands.

“Virgo,” Simon answers.

The guard looks at his device and confirms
Simon is approved and clear to proceed.

“Pull forward and stop at the next
checkpoint. Leave your keys with the valet.”

The guard steps back from the car and waves
him through. Simon follows his instructions and pulls the car
forward to the valet. They’re not really “valets” but rather a
second line of defense in the security protocol.

Simon exits the car with the small box.

“Your keys, Sir,” demands the valet.

Simon surrenders his car keys with a bit of
hesitation. He then refocuses on the job at hand. A “game-time”
look comes over his face as he walks around to the front of the car
where Grace is waiting. She, too, has that focused look in her
eyes. They accepted this job as a team and know it could turn
deadly at any moment. But the payoff is something they desperately
want.

As they join forces side-by-side at the front
of the car, Grace takes Simon’s hand. It is partly an instinct for
self-protection but also because she knows Simon thrives when they
are united as a team. The two walk hand-in-hand toward the entrance
of the hotel, not the least bit bashful of their partnership.

“Let’s get paid,” Simon says with
confidence.

Grace counters with equal confidence, “Then
off to Tahiti. Just you and me, my Love”

“And a yacht,” Simon quickly adds with a
smirk.

* * *

4

The Morgue

Scattered throughout the ancient city of
Jerusalem are historic sites like the Dome of the Rock and the
Temple Mount. Thousands of Jews busily move about the streets
in-between prayer and worship. Because the Israeli people were
victorious over their Arab enemies, they now exhibit a boldness not
seen since the days of King David. Earlier in the year, the nation
celebrated the 50th anniversary of the reunification of Jerusalem.
It was fifty years ago that Israel reclaimed Jerusalem by winning
the Six Day War, and all believe that it is God’s divine
appointment that exactly 50 years later Israel regained more of
God’s promised land by obliterating the Islamic terrorist groups –
Hamas, al-Qaeda, ISIS, Muslim Brotherhood, or whatever name they
call themselves. Israel decisively won the Middle East War and it
now controls the territories of Lebanon, Syria, Jordan and Iraq,
plus the western part of Iran, and the northern parts Saudi Arabia
and Egypt.

To the East of the Temple Mount hundreds of
Jews gather at a newly built temple. Its completion only months
earlier is the most significant construction to take place in the
past 2000 years. Every detail of the structure is prophetic, but
three prophetic fulfillments are especially notable: First, the
Temple faces the Eastern Gate of Jerusalem in anticipation of the
coming Jewish Messiah. Second, the Jews’ reinstituted the
sacrificial system so the Temple will soon conduct “blood
sacrifices.” Third, a pure red heifer had been born two years
earlier, and it will serve as the first sacrifice in atonement of
sin since the death of Jesus Christ.

A “sacrifice” is the offering of something
precious for a cause or a reason. Making “atonement” is satisfying
someone for an offense committed. The significance of blood in the
sacrificial system is based on the Old Testament portion of the
Bible, or Jewish Torah as the Jews call it. In Leviticus 17:11, God
speaks to Moses and declares, “For the life of a creature is in the
blood, and I have given it to you to make atonement for yourselves
on the altar. It is the blood that makes atonement for one’s life.”
It means those who are covered by a “blood sacrifice” are set free
from the consequences of sin. However, the animals used in blood
sacrifices are imperfect and only serve as a temporary atonement of
sin. In this way, the sacrifices only foreshadow the one and final
sacrifice to come. God said eternal atonement would only be found
by the sacrifice of a sinless and perfect being, and He promised to
send a Savior, the Christ, for this purpose.

Christians believe it is Jesus Christ who
provides eternal life through the shedding of His sinless blood.
Through the righteous blood of Jesus Christ, Christians stand
before God without condemnation.

The Jewish people are still waiting for the
Christ’s arrival, through whom the eternal atonement of sin will be
given. Until that time, blood sacrifices are made as a temporary
atonement of sin. It is for that reason that the Temple priests
honor their red heifer and its sacrificial offering to take place
in two days, on Rosh HaShanah.

Not far away, the city’s main morgue stands
where it has been for hundreds of years. A doctor examines David
Cohen’s body and states his autopsy observations for the orderlies
to record.

“Entrance wound one centimeter. Exit wound is
about the same. Minimal bleeding.”

The doctor rolls Cohen’s head to one side and
back again.

“I see no sign of bullet fragmentation. The
cranium looks to be intact and otherwise undamaged. It appears the
bullet passed right through.”

The Doctor looks up to the two orderlies and
says with a smirk, “A perfect head shot with a magic bullet.”

The two orderlies callously nod back at him,
showing no emotion.

“I think we are done here,” the Doctor
concludes as he pulls off his rubber gloves with a snapping
sound.

An attendant wraps things up as the orderlies
collect the body and roll it away on a gurney. They quickly push
the gurney through the hallway and oddly walk right passed the
storage room for bodies.

The attending nurse observes their movements
toward the exit. “Wait! Where are you going?”

The first orderly pulls a pistol with a
silencer and shoots her without breaking stride.

The orderlies exit the morgue and quickly
load Cohen’s body into the back of a waiting van. As the first
orderly starts the engine he instructs the other.

“Call Baculo. Let him know we’re on our
way.”

Minutes later the van is lost in the
congestion of pedestrians and cars. It makes a quick turn down an
alley, and it’s gone.