Read Online A Covenant with Death: The Peacock Trilogy - Book 3 by Bill Wetterman - Free Book Online
Authors: Bill Wetterman
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said. “I’ll try to find the frequency and get it to Global Security before I meet you at Balmoral.”
#
Arthur Pendleton threw a fit. Alone in his bedroom, he flung anything he could get his hands on across the floor or against the walls. Nothing broke. Built to last for eons, the cabinets, furniture, coffee cups, and even his clothes didn’t crinkle or dent. Blast. How he wished they would. Had he become complacent? Ammad had some acceptance outside the world of Muslim believers. And he, the First Citizen, had allowed him to get a foothold in the hearts of the people.
As if in answer to prayer, Van Meer knocked on his door. “May I come in? I have a report out of the Damascus Complex. Ammad’s loyalists put down an internal insurrection. The citizens trapped inside the complex have no choice about their situation. Radical Islamists have taken control, forcing Islamic Law on the populace.”
“Conversion by the sword?” Pendleton opened the door.
“Your room’s a bloody mess, Ole Boy.” Van Meer hugged him. “Not the sword. The threat of exile.”
Pendleton held Hans tight. “You should be mourning your wife’s death. Take some time off.”
“Bloody hell I will.” Van Meer pressed in tighter. “Her body’s been cremated and her ashes spread over the Michigan countryside. I have to work to keep from going crazy.”
“Connor selected a group to meet with us. She’ll be here in an hour.” He let go of his friend and straightened a chair he’d knocked over. “Lives are improved. We’ve made great progress with technology. How could this traitor have pulled off such a major coup?”
“Two reasons. He’s a fanatic like his father, and Peacock killed his father.” Van Meer inhaled. “Second, looking back on our procedures at the beginning, we shouldn’t have allowed him admission into the Realm. But we did in the light of fairness. He’s had twenty-five years to construct this plan. And, he’s had help. The scheme’s sophisticated, calculated, and dangerous. Face it. We have a Civil War on our hands.”
“Let me wash up and we’ll head to the meeting.” Pendleton opened his bathroom door “Pray on what we should do. A civil war is something I don’t want. I have a different mission.”
“I’m not much on the prayer part.” Van Meer shrugged. “Maybe I should be, but I’ve never been sold on the God thing. ”
“You know what I believe.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Heard it. Got the sweatshirt, not interested in more.”
Pendleton closed the bathroom door.
Remember what Lovey asked of you.
Where in the bloody hell had that voice come from? He searched the bathroom—too small to be hiding anything. The realization struck him that the targets of this Civil War would be Christians, not Hindus, Atheists, or other sects. He knew the Scriptures. He’d sound the alarm as soon as he had all the information on the enemy’s plans.
Damn. Lovey’s never wrong.
Lovey. Where was she? Without her, he couldn’t function.
Chapter 8
Showered and dressed in his Global attire, Pendleton headed into the Global Boardroom followed by Van Meer. A strange array of officials had gathered around his daughter. If she had a plan, he had yet to understand how all these players fit. Then it struck him, she always had a plan, and he usually disagreed with it.
His daughter was seated at the boardroom table along with Lovey’s former physician, Doctor Pederson, his own Chief of Staff, Eduardo Duarte, and Michael Ziebach, formerly Polaris, whom he hadn’t seen for years.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Van Meer huffed and took a chair.
The main door opened the moment Van Meer sat down at the table. An out of breath Thaddeus Cline rushed in. “Sorry. I’m late, but I have good news and bad. Which do you want first?”
“One moment,” Connor said. She flipped on the satellite feed, and her brother, George appeared. “I want my brother in on this discussion. He needs to hear the update on this
#
Arthur Pendleton threw a fit. Alone in his bedroom, he flung anything he could get his hands on across the floor or against the walls. Nothing broke. Built to last for eons, the cabinets, furniture, coffee cups, and even his clothes didn’t crinkle or dent. Blast. How he wished they would. Had he become complacent? Ammad had some acceptance outside the world of Muslim believers. And he, the First Citizen, had allowed him to get a foothold in the hearts of the people.
As if in answer to prayer, Van Meer knocked on his door. “May I come in? I have a report out of the Damascus Complex. Ammad’s loyalists put down an internal insurrection. The citizens trapped inside the complex have no choice about their situation. Radical Islamists have taken control, forcing Islamic Law on the populace.”
“Conversion by the sword?” Pendleton opened the door.
“Your room’s a bloody mess, Ole Boy.” Van Meer hugged him. “Not the sword. The threat of exile.”
Pendleton held Hans tight. “You should be mourning your wife’s death. Take some time off.”
“Bloody hell I will.” Van Meer pressed in tighter. “Her body’s been cremated and her ashes spread over the Michigan countryside. I have to work to keep from going crazy.”
“Connor selected a group to meet with us. She’ll be here in an hour.” He let go of his friend and straightened a chair he’d knocked over. “Lives are improved. We’ve made great progress with technology. How could this traitor have pulled off such a major coup?”
“Two reasons. He’s a fanatic like his father, and Peacock killed his father.” Van Meer inhaled. “Second, looking back on our procedures at the beginning, we shouldn’t have allowed him admission into the Realm. But we did in the light of fairness. He’s had twenty-five years to construct this plan. And, he’s had help. The scheme’s sophisticated, calculated, and dangerous. Face it. We have a Civil War on our hands.”
“Let me wash up and we’ll head to the meeting.” Pendleton opened his bathroom door “Pray on what we should do. A civil war is something I don’t want. I have a different mission.”
“I’m not much on the prayer part.” Van Meer shrugged. “Maybe I should be, but I’ve never been sold on the God thing. ”
“You know what I believe.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Heard it. Got the sweatshirt, not interested in more.”
Pendleton closed the bathroom door.
Remember what Lovey asked of you.
Where in the bloody hell had that voice come from? He searched the bathroom—too small to be hiding anything. The realization struck him that the targets of this Civil War would be Christians, not Hindus, Atheists, or other sects. He knew the Scriptures. He’d sound the alarm as soon as he had all the information on the enemy’s plans.
Damn. Lovey’s never wrong.
Lovey. Where was she? Without her, he couldn’t function.
Chapter 8
Showered and dressed in his Global attire, Pendleton headed into the Global Boardroom followed by Van Meer. A strange array of officials had gathered around his daughter. If she had a plan, he had yet to understand how all these players fit. Then it struck him, she always had a plan, and he usually disagreed with it.
His daughter was seated at the boardroom table along with Lovey’s former physician, Doctor Pederson, his own Chief of Staff, Eduardo Duarte, and Michael Ziebach, formerly Polaris, whom he hadn’t seen for years.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” Van Meer huffed and took a chair.
The main door opened the moment Van Meer sat down at the table. An out of breath Thaddeus Cline rushed in. “Sorry. I’m late, but I have good news and bad. Which do you want first?”
“One moment,” Connor said. She flipped on the satellite feed, and her brother, George appeared. “I want my brother in on this discussion. He needs to hear the update on this
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