Free Wrath & Righteousnes Episodes 01 to 05 by Chris Stewart Page A

You’re going to have to call my deputy.”
    “Of course, sir. The watch supervisor must have forgotten. I’ll give Colonel Hampton a call.”
    “Tell him I’m sorry, but he’s going to have to handle it.” Brighton wasn’t worried. Important as it was, the PDB was one of the least of his concerns. “Anything else?” he asked.
    “No sir. Sorry for bothering you. Have a good trip, sir.”
    “Thank you, Patty. Good night.” Brighton hung up the phone.
    He had barely turned out the light again when the secure cell phone started ringing a second time. He stared at it in anger. “Brighton!” he said abruptly as he jammed it to his ear. He hadn’t noticed the call was coming from the White House.
    “Major General Brighton?” a communications specialist asked.
    “Yes.”
    “Sir, this is Sergeant Bendino at the CIC communications center. I have a call from Prince Saud, crown prince of Saudi Arabia. We have traced and authenticated the phone number to verify it is coming from Riyadh, but voice recognition has not confirmed his identity. He wants us to patch him through.”
    “Crown Prince Saud bin Faysal?”
    “Yes, sir. That is who he says.”
    “Then of course, patch him through.”
    “Sir, do we need to notify the operations desk?”
    “No, Sergeant Bendino. I suspect this is a personal matter. I have known the crown prince for a very long time.”
    “Yes, sir. But you realize, of course, that as with all communications with foreign heads of states, these communications will be recorded and monitored.”
    “I understand, sergeant. Now please patch him through.”
    The secure satellite line clicked and then buzzed and then fell silent again. “Neil?” he heard the prince’s deeply accented baritone.
    “Your Highness! How are you? I hope everything is OK?”
    “OK? Yes, of course. Everything’s fine.”
    Brighton considered the differences in time, knowing it was early morning in Saudi Arabia. “It’s good to hear from you, Prince Saud. It’s been a long while.”
    “Too long, general, too long. Listen, I know it is late there, and I don’t have much time, but I heard you were flying over to meet with some of my air force leaders. I would hope we could get together. Nothing special, just an hour or two to catch up on, how do you Americans say it . . . older times?”
    “Old times, Prince Saud.”
    “Old times. Of course. Anyway, could we try to get together?”
    “I’d be honored, your Highness.”
    “Excellent, Neil. Now listen, I’m going to be in Medina for most of the week, but I’m going to fly back to meet you in Riyadh. I’ll have my people give your staff a call and work out a schedule. Will that be all right?”
    “Of course, Prince Saud. Whatever you want. But let me ask, is this important? Anything formal? Do I need to do bring my staff or do anything to prepare?”
    The line was silent a long moment, and Brighton could hear the prince breathe. “Nothing important, Neil,” he finally answered, “It is a personal matter. That is all.”
    The general sensed the hesitation and was about to press but the crown prince spoke before the general could say anything. “Same number at the Pentagon?” Prince Saud asked.
    “The switchboard will always get you through.”
    “OK, then my friend. I look forward to seeing you.”
    The phone clicked and went dead and the general pocketed the secure cell phone in his pants. He turned again for the bedroom door.

EIGHT
    During the millennia that passed since Balaam had been cast to earth, he had claimed many souls; a million, perhaps ten million, he really didn’t know, for once he had destroyed them he never thought of them again. And though he and his fellow fallen angels had mastered the art of destruction, it was not always easy, and this one lesson they had learned: never give up. Everyone had a weakness. Even the great could fall. Think of Cain. Think of Judas. Think of King David and a million other souls. Many of the strongest