Yatin, Christie, Annika, and Roscoe seemed ready to go, but they waited for Henry and Tina.
"We’ll be right out,"Henry said. They hovered there for a moment, then Christie sighed and went first. The others followed her.
"Whatever happens to me, you make sure Sam is safe," Tina told Henry when they were gone. He could detect fear in her voice, but also resolve. He knew she was willing to sacrifice herself for the girl. She probably believed it would come to that. She probably believed she was going to die.
"I will," he said. "And you. I need you. I can’t protect her alone."
"The others will help."
"I don’t trust them. They all have their own agendas."
"Based on what?" Tina asked. "I don’t think they know any better than you or I what will happen."
"Maybe not," Henry conceded, "but that’s no reason to trust them."
"Is there anyone we can trust?" Tina asked.
Henry didn’t answer.
Cardinal Roscoe could not look anyone in the eye as they drove towards downtown Atlanta. They were in two cars: Henry, Tina and Yatin Kumar in one; himself, Annika Dahl, and Christie in the other, with Annika driving. He knew Henry would get the girl back. There were other Vatican operatives waiting for him to contact them if he could, to help him get out of the country with Samantha Rohde. He would take her to Mexico first, where the Vatican held much more sway than in the United States, and from there to Italy and then Vatican City. That was his mission, but he seriously doubted he would be able to do it. Their best opportunity had already been thwarted by Oracle. From what he’d learned, he had serious doubts about the Vatican’s ability to protect the girl. Of course, that wasn’t exactly the Vatican’s primary goal regarding her. He didn’t want to think about that now, though. There was nothing he could do at the moment, anyway.
It was close to dawn, and traffic had already begun to thicken, coagulating like blood, apparently a common event on the highways in Atlanta. He was not even sure which day it was anymore. Monday? Tuesday? It would make sense if they were hitting the morning rush hour traffic.
The College of Cardinals had made their decision, blessed by the Pope who really did not know the full extent of what was going on. He was old. The Pope knew only in the vaguest terms that Augustine was by far and away the most powerful computer in the world, but he did not understand what Artificial Intelligence meant. He only knew that a girl had been discovered who may or may not be the Antichrist. This was not something new to the Church, of course, even in modern times. Every century there were anywhere from five to ten manifestations of the Antichrist, or at least alerts to such that were serious enough for the Vatican to investigate. Generally, a child who might be the vessel of the Antichrist was brought to Vatican City for observation.
Was this girl, Samantha Jeannette Rohde, the Antichrist? Augustine seemed to think so. The other Cardinals seemed to believe. Cardinal Roscoe, however, had doubts. It was an exciting and frightening proposition, this concept of the Antichrist manifest on Earth…but in reality, Cardinal Roscoe never gave it much serious consideration. This was the realm of Hollywood horror films, not the real world.
Could anyone truly believe in the Antichrist, or did they have to convince themselves of it in order to forward another agenda? News leaks about the existence of the Antichrist, and the Church’s triumph over it, would go a long way to furthering interest in Catholicism when interest had been waning for years now. At least, that was the idea, Cardinal Roscoe thought. Marketing.
Given that, he wondered if he could, with a clear conscience, take Samantha back to the Vatican.
"You don’t look well," Christie said. "Something wrong?"
"I don’t know." He sighed. "Yes. Something is wrong."
"What?"
"Everything about why I am here is wrong."
"I thought you were sent here to save the girl," Christie said.
"Yes, in a way. In another way, not quite. I was sent to bring her back to the Vatican where she can be observed by…certain people who specialize in…identifying…certain traits."
"What traits?" she asked. She suddenly had a pad of paper and a pen handy, already writing down what he said.
Cardinal Roscoe took a deep breath. "The traits of the Antichrist." He spit it out like bile. He hated saying it. It embarrassed him.
Christie paused for a moment in silence, and then she laughed. It was a sharp laugh that prodded him like a stick. He felt his face redden. If he truly believed, would that laugh bother him so? If he truly believed…
"Oh my God," Christie said when she realized the effect her laugh had on him. "You’re serious."
He nodded because he could not speak.
"You think the girl is the Antichrist?"
"I don’t know. No one knows for sure. She must be observed by experts." Cardinal Roscoe knew he was giving away Church secrets here. If he said too much, and Christie printed it, he would officially be discredited and denounced as a heretic. Christie wrote more notes.
"How… Why do they think she might be the Antichrist?" she asked.
"Augustine told them…"
"Augustine is the Vatican’s Artificial Intelligence," Christie explained to Annika.
"I know."
"Well, in some ways it’s like Oracle, but in other ways it’s completely different," Christie continued. She knew almost as much about Augustine as Cardinal Roscoe did. "It isn’t as extensive as Oracle. It doesn’t have as many nodes. It’s newer, though, faster, more state of the art. Its nodes are in Vatican properties around the world… Mexico City, New York, the Vatican is where the primary node is located. That’s the other thing that makes it different, right? Oracle doesn’t have a primary node. At least I don’t think it does. Yatin could explain it better, obviously, if he were in this car." There was an uneasy pause. "Why isn’t he in this car?"
"He chose to ride with the assassin rather than with me," Annika said matter-of-factly.
He was glad of the distraction for Christie Seifert. He didn’t want her continual prodding and prying and poking him. He feared saying too much. He feared telling her the truth. The truth, not about the Antichrist and what it really meant for the Church, but about himself and what he would have to do if he could safely bring Samantha Rohde back to Vatican City with him. He feared he would tell Christie that, as a last resort, if he had no other recourse, he had orders from the Holy Father himself to kill the girl. There were precedents, and thus the seemingly endless back and forth arguments at the College of Cardinals between the crusty scholars of Church lore.
In the end, Cardinal Roscoe somehow knew he would not kill anyone. He believed that. He had faith in that, if nothing else.
Chapter 35
Henry and the others parked across the street in a pay lot behind the Marriott. Henry and Tina walked to the hotel, the others trailing half a block behind.
"What if we just called the police?" Tina asked as they crossed the street. "Or hotel security. They could grab Becker."
"They’d grab us, too," Henry said. "There’s more going on here than they could even begin to comprehend. They’d never believe it."
"I don’t know what to believe, myself," Tina said. "Except I believe you, I believe you’ll save her, Henry, regardless of what happens to me."
Henry didn’t reply.
They went inside.
Life seemed normal inside the Marriott’s expansive lobby. Hotel staff went about their business as usual, unaware of who Henry was, what he had done, what he was doing at that very moment. Blissful ignorance, Henry thought.
He saw Angus and Sam come down an escalator straight ahead. Angus was holding Sam’s hand. Behind him stood the Brit, Martin Avery, and a smallish, pale woman. The woman had the same eyes as Angus and Martin. Predatory, but hers were colder, almost dead, no light in them at all. She cared about nothing. For a moment Henry felt fear, not of the woman herself but of the fact that the universe could do that to someone. Then he remembered seei
ng that same thing in his own eyes. The universe had done it to him, once. And he had come back from oblivion, to live and care again.
Samantha looked scared, her big brown eyes open wide. When she and Angus reached the floor, they walked towards Henry and Tina. Martin and the small woman stayed back.
Angus checked his watch, then winked at Henry. "Right on time." He looked past Henry, saw the others. "What are they doing here?"
"What are they doing here?" Henry asked, motioning with his head towards Martin and the woman.
"Bloody hell, Henry, give me a little credit. I knew you would not exchange this fine piece of a woman here for the little girl, not without something up your sleeve to try and get out with both of them in your possession. Oracle told me that. Oracle knows you, Henry. So this is how I stop you from trying something stupid. If you make one wrong move, one of these two will kill your friend here. It’s that simple."
"Why do you need her, Angus?"
"Honestly, Henry?" Angus shrugged. "I haven’t a clue. Oracle says to make this trade, and to not come away without the lady. So there you go."
"It doesn’t make sense."
"You keep saying that."
"It’s true. None of this makes sense."
"Not to you and me, no," Angus said. "But we ain’t Oracle, are we? We’re just flesh and blood, you and me. We’re only human. Oracle is beyond that."
"Oracle was created by human beings, and we are flawed. It stands to reason, then, that Oracle is flawed."
"Oh, please spare me," Angus said acidly. "Look at me, eh, Henry? I’m bloody perfect."
"Angus…"
"We’re starting to attract attention here," Angus cut him off. "Either make the trade or pull whatever foolish stunt you were planning on. Just get it bloody over with."
Henry decided he couldn’t move fast enough to take out Angus, Martin, and the woman and still protect Sam and Tina. Too many variables, too many chances for Sam or Tina or even himself to take a bullet. What should he do? Oracle had said, anything he did was the right thing to do. It was all up to Henry. His instincts screamed against letting Tina go, yet something deeper told him it was inevitable.
Then, without waiting for him to say a word, as if sensing his thought process, Tina stepped forward. He reached out and touched her arm. She looked back at him. It was in her eyes. She knew it was inevitable, too. Something else was in her eyes. She expected to die.
"You’ll be all right," he told her, trying to sound confident, certain of her future.
Tina managed to reply with a smile, then turned away and continued towards Angus. She stopped halfway there. "Let her go," she told him.
"Not bloody likely. When you’re here with me, then the little girl can go to Daddy." Sam glanced up at Angus.
Tina didn’t move. "I don’t take another step until you let her go."
Angus regarded her with the slightest of grins. "Do you give me your word that if I let her go, you’ll come to me?"
Tina nodded.
"Say it."
"I give you my word."
Angus grinned. "We’ll see about that." He knelt down, grabbing Sam by both arms and looking her right in the face. "All right, then, girlie. When I let you go you head straight for Mr. Henry over there. Do not stop to exchange pleasantries with the lovely lady Tina. You got that?"
Sam nodded.
"Say it."
"I got it," Sam answered.
"Right then, get going." Angus let her go, and she walked towards Henry. As she passed Tina, Tina smiled down at her.
"Keep going, Sam, it’s okay," Tina said, the tone of her voice completely opposite of what it had been with Angus just a moment before.
Sam slowed her pace, but kept walking. She looked at Henry with fear in her eyes. He could tell she still did not trust him. She had not believed his story about who had killed her parents. She had to know it was him, that he’d done it. Perhaps she was in denial. Denial was easy for kids. It was easy for adults, too, but the consequences were far harsher. Henry knew that all too well.
Looking at Samantha Rohde, he saw his own daughter. Suddenly he couldn’t remember his daughters name, and he almost panicked. He was letting her down again if he forgot her. She wasn’t completely gone as long as he could remember everything about her. And then Sam was there, and he took her hand. Constance, he thought with relief. Her name was Constance. But the hand he now held in his own wasn’t hers, and her memory slipped into the recesses of his mind.
All too well.
"Henry, catch," Angus said, and flipped an envelope towards him. It veered off to the right and landed on the floor. "It’s a room key. The number’s on the envelope. Wait there. I’ll be in touch." He grabbed Tina by the arm. "You’re coming with me, missy." He led her back towards the escalator behind the one he had come down on. Martin and the small woman stayed where they were, watching Henry. Henry didn’t move. He left the envelope where it had fallen.
"You’d do well to do as he says," Martin told him. With that, he followed Angus, the small woman right behind him. Henry retrieved the key once they were gone. Christie, Cardinal Roscoe, Yatin, and Annika walked up.
Henry didn’t answer. Instead, he said, "I work alone and I prefer it that way. I suspect, however, that you all are here for a reason. I’m going to wait in the room. You’re welcome to come with me, or you can leave. If Mr. Kumar is right about Oracle, whichever decision you make will be the right decision."
Suddenly, and without warning, Sam cried out Tina’s name, attracting the attention of hotel staff and a few guests. Before Henry could react, Sam bolted away from him. He’d let his grip on her hand loosen. She ran up the escalator, following Angus.
"Sam!" Henry yelled, chasing after her. She kept going. He gained on her quickly by taking escalator steps three at a time, and grabbed her by the arm as she stood on at the top of the escalators looking around. Angus, Tina, and the other two were gone.
Henry picked her up. She started crying.
"We’re going to the room, Sam," he told her. "Tina is going to meet us there later, okay?"
"No she’s not!" Sam yelled in reply.
"Okay, fine, she’s not," Henry said. "If you don’t want her to come, she won’t come. Is that what you want?"
This got her attention. It was a little trick he remembered. Henry remembered at least that much from his brief time as a father. It wasn’t all gone. Not all of it.
"No," Sam whined. "I want her to come to the room."
"Okay, then we’ll wait for her. Okay?"
Sam, eyes full of tears, nodded glumly. Henry could tell by the way she nodded that she knew. Tina’s fate was in Angus’s hands now. And that was not a good thing.
Henry carried her to the elevator bank. He looked at the envelope. They were in room twenty-one forty-two. He didn’t motion for the others to follow. Whether they did, or didn’t, he didn’t really care at that moment. They did, of course.
Henry debated the idea of actually going up to the room. In the back of his mind he’d considered leaving, losing the others and taking Sam with him. But then what? Tina would no doubt be killed if Angus felt she was no longer useful to his cause. How was she useful now? Henry wondered. What could Angus, what could Oracle, possibly want with Tina Jefferson?
Tina didn’t even try to resist as Becker led her across the upper lobby to another set of escalators that went down. She looked back and saw the Brit and the small woman just reaching the upper lobby and following them. She wondered if she could wrench herself away from Becker and make a run for it. Maybe she could, but she doubted she’d get very far. She had a feeling that Becker would sooner shoot her than let her get away from him. And it wasn’t just Becker she had to worry about. The Brit scared her, but the small woman terrified her. If the eyes were the window to the soul, then that woman had no soul.
They reached the main lobby just in time to see Henry chasing Sam up the escalator. Becker pulled Tina close to him.
"Not a peep,"
he said, his voice low, his breath hot and heavy in her ear. It disgusted her, the feeling of his breath on her. Then she realized she wasn’t afraid of dying, she just didn’t want to be killed by Angus Becker, she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of killing her.
When Cardinal Roscoe and the others followed Henry upstairs, Becker led Tina to an exit. They passed by a security guard, who frowned at them. Tina’s heartbeat quickened as for a moment it looked like the security guard, a formidable looking brute, might do something. But Becker pushed open one of the glass doors and pulled Tina through. They were outside before the guard could say a word.
"Where are you taking me?" Tina asked as Becker pulled her along. She looked behind her to see the Brit and small woman following. They were on Peachtree Street, at the front entrance to the Marriott, where the wide circular drive hummed as taxi cabs and limousines dropped off and picked up their passengers.
"This is too bloody easy," Angus said. "I thought Henry’d make it hard for me, but no… Maybe Oracle misjudged his feelings for you."
Feelings for her? The words hit Tina harder than a fist might have. Stunned her. What feelings did Oracle think Henry had for her?
"He sold you to the Devil, missy," Angus said. Who was the Devil, she wondered? Him, or Oracle? They walked down Peachtree for half a block, then turned down a side street, walking at a fast clip. Horns honked as cars jostled for position at a red light, people talking on cell phones passed by them on the sidewalk, life went on as normal, as if that day was like every other day.
"Where are you taking me?" she repeated the question.
"Well, Dorothy, I’m taking you to see the bloody Wizard," Angus said sarcastically. "Now shut up."
Milla hated the American woman right away. For being afraid. To Milla, that was the ultimate flaw in human beings, fear. Stupidity was second. She and Martin followed Angus and the American woman to the van. Martin opened the rear of the van, and Angus forced the woman to get into the back while Milla watched to make sure no one noticed that what they were doing was less then proper. In Russia it didn’t matter if someone saw you, they knew to mind their own business, to not get involved. In the United States, apparently, this was not the case. The people watched too many movies and they all thought they could be heroes like Clint Eastwood or Bruce Willis. No one noticed anything wrong.
The Oracle Paradox Page 27
