The Harvester (28 page)

T
he day of the pope’s speech, which is televised for the world to see, we ready ourselves for what is an anticipated attack of some sort by Vega. We have a plan, but we have no idea if it is going to work. We weed our way through the masses of people crowded into the square waiting for the pope. I glance up to the stage and now realize what Vega is going to do. On the stage sitting in chairs are twelve of the world leaders. He’s going to take ’em all out in one fell swoop. I stop the others and tell ’em what I think is going to happen. We try to hurry to the stage, but the masses of people slow our speed.

The pope is escorted to the stage by his Swiss Guards and several armed, suited men. The crowd cheers for the pope as he steps to the front of the stage. We try to hurry to the stage, but the excited crowd inhibits our progress.

A massive explosion from under the stage rocks the premises. The whole stage area explodes and falls into the catacomb. Mass mayhem and chaos erupts like an atom bomb.

Sirens blare. Hundreds of dead bodies are scattered everywhere. People scramble for safety. A plume of dense smoke clouds our vision, but we don’t need to see in order to know what we will see soon. We collectively make it to the blast zone and peer down to see several dead people, and numerous body parts strewn about in the catacomb. Media reports that this was a terrorist act, and with what Vega did, I’d have to agree.

“This is going to cause complete chaos around the world,” Avianna states.

“The pope and twelve of our world leaders killed by a terrorist attack,” Kelly Marie replies.

“Some terrorist cell like Al-Qaeda or the Taliban will be blamed, and they’ll jump at the chance to take the false credit,” I add on.

“We need to let the world know who really did it.

Then, the Agency will have even more funding and backing to dispose of the Underworld once and for all,” Fabio remarks.

He does have a great point though. We need to contact all six Heads, let ’em know who really did it, and to arrange an immediate press conference. I pull out my cellular phone and quickly dial Mr. Herald’s number.

“Who you calling, Harv?” Dorian asks.

“Who do you think?” I sarcastically ask.

Mr. Herald answers and man oh man is he upset.

“Mr. Herald, we witnessed it all, and we know for a fact that Vega is responsible for it,” I clarify for him.

I listen to him rant and rave for a few moments and I decide I must cut him off.

“Listen, time is of the essence here, Gerald. You need to set up a press conference to notify the world who really did this terrorist act. It’ll help the Agency out to no ends,” I inform him.

I listen for a bit more. “Yes, sir. See you soon,” and I hang up.

Avianna looks at me for some sort of explanation.

“Mr. Herald wants us to meet him at the United Nations headquarters in New York for the press conference. You and your crew keep tabs on Vega and keep us posted,” I tell her.

“You got it, Harvey,” she replies, and she and the twins walk over to one of the Swiss Guards to get any sort of info that would prove useful to our cause.

O
ur destination, the United Nation headquarters, located in the Turtle Bay neighborhood of the borough of Manhattan, on spacious grounds overlooking the East River.

Its borders are First Avenue on the west, East Forty-Second Street to the south, East Forty-Eighth Street on the north, and the East River to the east. Its actual address is 760 United Nations Plaza. There are three subsidiary United Nations. One is in Geneva, Switzerland. The second is in Vienna, Austria. And the third is in Nairobi, Kenya. But this one is the main headquarters. And outside is humming with media activity.

The police control the situation the best that they can.

Inside the UN, Mr. Herald and I exit a conference room and are immediately inundated by questions from the media. There are so many of ’em it is quite suffocating. We stop in front of several of ’em and allow ’em to ask a few questions.

One reporter shoves a microphone in Mr. Herald’s face. “Can you tell us how you know without a doubt that the Underworld is responsible for the bombing in Rome?” he asks him.

“Like we stated to the UN representatives, our field survey team found numerous details that pointed right to the only ones responsible, the Underworld,” he answers.

A different reporter places her microphone in front of my face. “Everyone knows that you are the best Harvester who has worked for the Agency for centuries,” she comments.

“Do you have a question, or are you just wasting my time?” I ask her.

“My question is, were you part of what Mr. Herald is calling the field survey team, and if so, what was your role in discovering it was the Underworld?”

“That’s two questions by the way. However, yes, I led the field survey team. And as far as how we found out it was Vega and the Underworld, well, I’ll let the UN inform you of all the details. Now, if you don’t mind, we have a lot of work to accomplish. Shall we, Mr. Herald?” I ask him in order for us to leave quicker.

He gets what I’m doing because we’ve done this so many times in the past to avoid wasting time with the media. We try to be as polite as we can be about it, but some times, the media can be as annoying as the paparazzi to the stars.

“Yes, we shall,” he replies.

We walk through the crowd of reporters and toward the exit. His cell rings, and he answers it.

“Yes. Yes. Of course,” he states and then hangs up.

“Problem?” I inquire.

“Not sure. That was the president. We’re going to DC. Tell Dorian and Kelly Marie to meet us at JFK Airport immediately,” he instructs me.

I
t’s just shy of midnight and Mr. Herald, Dorian, Kelly Marie, and myself meet with the president in the Oval Office. The vice president and General O’Malley are present for the meeting. I’ve only met General O’Malley once, and he seemed like a good person with a good head on his shoulders and more importantly, he wholeheartedly backs the Agency.

“Once again I wanted to thank you for saving my life, gentlemen,” the President addresses us.

“It’s our duty to do so, Mr. President,” Mr. Herald replies.

“One topic I must address first. My campaign manager says I’m losing numbers for my reelection due to what happened in Italy. The only person who stood in my way for a second term was, as you well know, Jonathan Jacobs. And also, as you well know, he was one of the thirteen on that stage in Rome. Rumors are being spread that I had something to do with it because they think I’d do anything to be reelected. Even with the UN press conference explaining who really did it, the rumors run rampant.”

“We know you had nothing to do with it, Mr. President,” I say to him.

“Be that as it may, Jacobs’s vice president nominee Michael Winters has decided to takeover where he left off and run against me. I’m being told he has a very good chance of winning. Now, to move onto the present situation. From all the facts you have given me, it seems to me that the Agency is having a problem tracking the one responsible for all this anarchy and chaos, Vega.”

“He’s a very elusive character. He has the use of his own Master Hole and White Door, not to mention time-shifting, regenerating body parts, and mimicking others. We can’t pinpoint him down to one location,” Mr. Herald explains.

“That’s why I wanted to meet with you. General O’Malley here is a miracle worker when it comes to Intel and locating undesirables. He helped with Bin Laden and Hussein. He will now be a part of your team, Mr. Herald.”

“I welcome his service, Mr. President, but he must understand who he will be working with and what we’re about,” Mr. Herald informs him.

“He has been brought up to speed and knows plenty about Harvesters, Mr. Herald. You’ve been having a problem tracking Vega, well, he and his team will be the ones who’ll pinpoint his locale, and that’s when you boys do your thing,” he replies. “All of you will now have a debriefing on all pertinent Intel on the Underworld. Let’s bring them down once and for all,” he continues with.

Everyone nods in agreement with the president. This could actually work for us. This General O’Malley cat has the use of every militaristic spy technology available, including highly advanced drones and satellites in space that can zoom in on a dime on the sidewalk with a perfect visual. I’m excited for the Hunt again.

I shake General O’Malley’s hand. “I look forward to working with you, General,” I tell him as a half truth to make him feel welcome and the other half because I do want to work with him. I’ve heard good things about the general.

“It’s my pleasure to work with the great Harvey the Harvester,” he returns a compliment. “It’s a pleasure to work with all of you.”

He hands us security passes. “These will allow you to get onto Andrew’s Air Force Base. That’s where we’ll meet in the morning. Say 08:00. Just ask for me,” he instructs us.

“Andrews, huh?” I ask.

“Want to show you just what we can do,” he replies.