The Song of the Seraphim by Michael J. Webb

Author:Michael J. Webb
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, thriller, adventure, action, historical, supernatural, christian, nephilim
Publisher: Michael J. Webb

CHAPTER 22

Paul paced the floor, thinking.

He was a prisoner in the White House, of that there was no doubt.

The question was, how was he going to get out?

He’d spent the better part of the day trying to come up with a solution, but so far, he didn’t have any good ideas. When Harding had “escorted” him to his room he’d discovered that all of his luggage had been brought from his hotel and deposited there, including his backpack. Before he’d left the cabin, he’d stuffed some of the more sensitive research material he’d gathered over the past few years into the pack along with his Bible and several chapters from Genesis of Myth.

As soon as Harding locked the door behind him, he hurriedly rummaged through the pack to make sure that nothing had been taken. All of his papers were there, including the forgotten tickets he’d purchased for Israel, but he was certain that the pack, along with his luggage, had been searched.

His fears were confirmed when he searched further, looking for his passport.

It was gone!

Now, it was just after sunset. His captors had served him dinner half an hour ago, but he wasn’t very hungry and had only eaten part of it. The frustration and anger he felt at his powerlessness, which he’d managed to bring under control earlier in the day through prayer, had once again started building inside him like water behind a dam. Even so, it felt odd thinking in terms of being a captive, as if he were someone who’d been kidnapped by terrorists and whisked off to an uncertain fate, like those nine men who’d been snatched off the streets in Lebanon in the ‘80’s. True, his fate was uncertain at this point, but there had been no threats of being killed if he didn’t behave. And the meal he’d just been fed—Caesar’s Salad, filet mignon, cooked rare, the way he liked it, asparagus in a cream sauce, a stuffed baked potato, coffee, and chocolate mousse for dessert—was not exactly wartime rations.

Nevertheless, no matter how well he’d been treated, he couldn’t leave this room.

It was very clear from his conversation with his father-in-law that he knew far more about Gabriella and Joshua’s disappearance than he’d admitted. The fact that he was being held hostage in the White House only made the already perplexing circumstances of his family’s disappearance seem all that more bizarre.

A knock at the door jarred Paul from his introspective musings.

He stopped pacing as the door opened and William Blake stepped into the room. A tall, muscular man, with a stern look on his face, closed the door behind the Vice President. Paul assumed the man was a Secret Service agent, and his guard.

“Good evening, Paul,” the Vice President said quietly. “I just found out that the President decided it would be best if you stayed here at the White House for the next few days. When he told me why, and that you’re being held here against your will, I realized that I had to do something to help.

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