by R. D. Brady
“All right. Give me five minutes.”
He snapped off the intercom and turned to find Rahim standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “I guess our lunch is off.”
David walked over to him. “Not necessarily. I’ll see what I can do. If not, maybe we could do dinner.”
Rahim kissed him softly. “Be careful.”
“Always.”
Rahim turned back for the kitchen. David watched him for a moment. Rahim added a softness to David’s life that he had never realized he had been missing. He was immensely grateful for that. He turned and hustled up the stairs, his mind already shifting gears. A Tango meeting. Apparently the President wanted to chat.
CHAPTER 15
Baltimore, Maryland
“This has to be a mistake.” Laney gently took the letter from her uncle’s hands. He didn’t try to stop her. His face had taken on a pallor she didn’t like. She quickly scanned the document. “It says you failed to renew your green card.”
“No, no. I sent in the paperwork. I did it from the cabin in Pennsylvania.”
“How did you mail it?”
“Certified mail. We were in the middle of nowhere. I wanted to make sure it got there. I received a receipt telling me it had been received. They got the paperwork.”
“I’ll call Henry. I’m sure it’s just a clerical error.”
Bas nodded. “Laney’s right. Let’s not worry until we have to. And the lunch is ready. Let’s eat. I’m sure by the time we’re done, this will all be sorted out.”
Patrick nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.”
“I’ll call Henry right now. Do you still have a record of the mail receipt?”
“Yes.”
“Send it to me. I’ll get it to Henry. Let’s not worry until we have to.”
“All right.” Patrick pulled over the laptop and began to input his password. Laney turned for the back door, wanting to make the call in private. But as she did, she caught the tightening of Bas’s jaw. He looked bothered. She shook her head. Of course he was bothered. Anyone could see her uncle didn’t need this stress right now.
Laney had called Henry. He promised to have his people look into it immediately. She didn’t feel comforted, but she’d straightened her shoulders and plastered a smile on her face. She opened the door as Bas was pulling the lasagna from the oven, placing it on the island next to the garlic knots and salad. “That smells delicious.”
And it was. Whoever taught Bas to cook had her heartfelt appreciation. They only spoke about the letter for a moment when Cain, with his dark glasses on, entered the kitchen with Nyssa. But then they kept the conversation light. Bas told them stories about his first days at the Vatican, which had them all laughing, even Cain.
Bas turned to him as he wiped his mouth, pushing his plate away. “Have you been to Rome?”
Cain nodded. “Many times. It’s changed a great deal over the years.”
“How so?”
There was a small pause. Bas did not know who Cain truly was. Every once in a while, keeping it that way seemed fraught with difficulty. Bas thought Cain’s name was a shortened version of McCain, his last name. It was not a brilliant cover. But they had been scrambling when Bas had shown up and Nyssa had called Cain by name. Bas thought Cain was an expert on ancient languages, which technically was true.
Cain took a sip of water, looking not even slightly nervous. “Much more traffic, more tourists.”
Bas nodded. “Yes, when I was a child, you could walk the streets much easier.”
“Hmm, these rolls are delicious. Where did you learn to cook?” Laney asked.
“The cook at my school, Sylvia. She was a wonder in the kitchen. I would pester her until she’d let me help out.”
Laney frowned. “Were you at a boarding school?”
Bas didn’t meet her eyes. “Of a sort.”
Laney’s phone rang before she could follow up. Like Cain, Bas seemed selective in the information he shared. His childhood tended to be completely off limits.
“It’s Henry.” She snatched the phone from the table and quickly turned it on. “Hey, Henry.”
Henry didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I had Brett speak with the immigration office.” Brett was Brett Hanover, the head of Henry’s legal department.
“Hold on, Henry. I’m putting you on speakerphone.” She pressed the speak button. “Okay, go.” She placed the phone closer to Patrick.
Henry’s voice rang out through the kitchen. “The office is saying they never received his paperwork.”
Laney leaned forward. “But he has a receipt saying they did.”
“Brett pressed that point. After some back and forth, they’ve agreed that Patrick will not be deported, but he has to renew his green card again, this time in person.”
Laney met her uncle’s gaze and smiled. Okay. It would be an inconvenience but still doable.
“That’s great. Thank you, Henry,” Patrick said.
“Well, don’t thank me yet. Since the coronation, the government has really been cracking down on foreigners in the country. They’ve initiated a new requirement for green card renewals.”
“What is it?” Laney asked.
“The person must return to their country of origin to renew their green card.”
Laney’s mouth fell open. “That’s insane. Why on earth would they do that?”
“I’m not sure. But it means Patrick needs to go overseas to renew his card.”
Laney studied her uncle. He was so fragile right now. An overseas trip was a huge burden. “There must be some exceptions.”
“I’m afraid not. The deadline is one week from now. I’m going to make arrangements. Let me know when you want to leave and who’s going.”
Laney nodded. “Thanks, Henry.” She snapped off the phone.
Patrick met her eyes, but there was no joy in his voice. “I guess we’re heading back home.”
“I guess we are.”
Her gaze slipped to Cain and the concern behind his glasses. “This is ridiculous. Patrick’s still healing. He’s in no shape to take a transatlantic flight.”
“I’ll be fine.” Patrick pushed back from the table. “I just need a minute.” He rolled himself to the back door and let himself into the backyard.
No one spoke as he headed outside.
Cain leaned toward her. “I don’t like this, Laney. With all that you’ve done, there should be a way to get his paperwork through. He’s been here for nearly fifty years.”
Laney watched the empty door and couldn’t help but notice the slight shake in Bas’s hand as he picked up Patrick’s plate and headed to the sink. “I know. Something smells off. I just don’t know what it is.”
CHAPTER 16
Washington, D.C.
The tunnel was quiet except for the sound of footsteps. Secret Service Agent Sheffield led the way. His tall companion, who’d held open the door to the dark black Yukon and who had not been identified, now walked behind David—not a situation David was comfortable with.
David was aware of every move, breath, and footfall of the agent. He’d already identified his tics. He favored his left leg. His eyes would immediately shift to any movement in his peripheral vision. He kept opening and closing his right fist, suggesting an injury. All were factors that David could and would use to his advantage if necessary.
Not that he expected any problems. He’d walked this very same tunnel at least six other times to meet with the President. They always met at the same location. David wasn’t surprised by the choice of location. The President had been holding more and more high-level meetings in the tunnels. The scuttlebutt was that it was due to the President’s own fears that had driven her underground, but David knew it was due to the concerns of the Secret Service. A Fallen had gotten way too close to the President on the Day of Reckoning, and they were well aware of how lucky she had been to escape injury. Not everyone on her detail had been.
He was currently walking in the tunnel that linke
d the White House to the Vice President’s courtyard. He supposed he should be flattered—very few even knew these tunnels existed, never mind got to walk them. But he did not like being summoned like a houseboy.
Ahead, the door to the conference room stood flanked by four Secret Service agents. An additional six were no doubt stationed along the tunnel the President had taken in. He’d passed two more at the entrance he had used.
Sheffield nodded at the agent by the door. “Open it up.”
The agent unlocked the bulletproof door, stepping back to allow David to enter.
David stepped through, scanning the room for any threats. Two agents stood on the other side of the door. Two on the opposite side of the room. The President stood with her aide at the conference table. All par for the course. But there was one extra attendee at today’s meeting: a man in a long black cassock, a red sash around his waist, a red cap on his head, and a long rosary around his neck.
David had been waiting for the Roman Catholic Church to become involved. Although he had to admit, he was surprised that the President would include them in one of these briefings. He strode over to the table. “Madame President.”
The President shook his hand. “Mr. Okafur, I’d like to introduce you to Cardinal John Moretti.”
David shook the cardinal’s hand. “The third highest ranked Vatican official.”
The President’s eyebrows lifted. “You know your Church hierarchy?”
David shrugged. “I am a man of hidden depths.”
“So it would seem.” The President gestured for the men to take a seat as she did the same.
David nodded to the President’s aide, Alicia Lopez. “Alicia.”
“Mr. Okafur.”
Alicia was always in attendance at these meetings to take copious notes, for the President’s eyes only. She was also trained at Langley, a fact the President was aware of and perhaps counting on should David get out of hand. David had even taught her hand-to-hand at the academy when he’d been grounded due to his face becoming a little too well known in certain parts of the world.
The President clasped her hands in front of her. “Now, tell me your impressions of the latest Fallen incident.”
David quickly ran down the incident outside Chicago, keeping to the facts.
When he was done, the President frowned. “Delaney McPhearson fell three stories? Why didn’t she use her abilities?”
“She was using them to keep a family from falling to their death. She had to choose, herself or them. She chose them.”
The cardinal waved away his words with a scoff. “But she will heal. They will not.”
“Yes, but she will feel the pain of the fall. Nothing in her abilities or any of the Fallen’s prevents them from feeling pain. With a fall like that, she will have broken ribs, her back, a skull fracture is possible. It would have been extremely painful.”
The cardinal studied David. “You sound like you admire her.”
“I am merely making sure you have a complete picture of McPhearson’s abilities and those of the Fallen. Assuming they do not feel pain is a mistake. They do feel it. They just heal from it quicker than normal humans.”
“Thank you, David. Now, tell me what you have learned about Father Patrick Delaney,” the President said.
This time David was surprised by the request, although he was careful to keep any of the surprise from showing on his face. “Patrick Delaney is a Roman Catholic priest, age fifty-eight. He has been stationed in the United States for most of his career, although his work has taken him—”
The cardinal cut in. “Yes, yes. But what is his relationship like with Delaney McPhearson?”
David paused for only a second. “As you know, he has raised her since the age of eight, an unusual arrangement for a priest. They are extremely close. More father/daughter than uncle/niece. Through these last few years, when her abilities came into being, he has been a constant source of strength and support for her.”
“So they are connected, emotionally bonded?” the cardinal asked.
“Very.”
The cardinal leaned in. “I have heard that she is close to many people.”
David frowned. Where was the cardinal going with this line? “That is true. She has a wide circle of people she cares deeply for.”
“Would you say she cares for her uncle more?”
David frowned. “I doubt she would characterize it that way, but that is probably accurate.”
The cardinal and President exchanged a look. David was barely able to contain his frown. Why the focus on the uncle? He was sidelined from most activities due to his injury. “You are aware that Father Patrick sustained an irreversible spinal injury and is confined to a wheelchair?”
“Yes. It is a shame,” the President said.
David almost believed her . . . almost. He decided to switch gears. “If I may ask a question.”
The President nodded.
“What is the Church’s view of the fallen angel problem? And of the existence of a ring bearer?”
A sneer flitted across the cardinal’s face before he covered it. But David saw it and knew it said more than his words. “The Church is not publicly commenting on either of those issues.”
“Cardinal, David is in charge of the investigation into the ring bearer. The Church’s view may hold some bearing into his work. David will not be revealing any information discussed here.” The President speared David with a look, and he nodded in response.
The cardinal pursed his lips, studying David. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest. “We view the Fallen problem as a genetic anomaly. The individuals with these abilities are not the reincarnation of fallen angels. The people cried to God for help, and he answered them, banishing the fallen angels to a pit in the desert.”
“What of the argument that they were only banished there for seventy generations or until the world was destroyed? And that when those seventy generations passed and the world was not destroyed, they were released?”
The cardinal’s eyes narrowed. “Those teachings are not recognized by the Church.”
“And the ring bearer?”
The cardinal tried to keep the derision from his voice, but in David’s opinion, failed. “The ring bearer, as she calls herself, is not an agent of God. God would not bestow such powers within one individual.”
“And if He did, it would certainly not be a female,” David said. The role of women in the Church had not been determined by Jesus but by his followers after his death. And Simon Peter’s animosity toward Mary Magdalene was well documented long before Jesus’s death, never mind after it. It was clear Simon Peter could not understand why Jesus put such faith in her. Although the Catholic Church argued for a less prominent role for women, other historical documents suggested that Mary Magdalene was a disciple, if not the disciple. And that she and Peter had very different views on how the followers of Jesus should move forward after Jesus’s death.
The cardinal glared at David. “Women are an important part of the Church, but they are not the equal of men. There is a reason Jesus’s apostles were only men. There is a reason he chose Simon Peter to lead his flock after his death. If the ring bearer were ordained by God, he would be a male. Women are too delicate for the position.”
David snorted. “Delaney McPhearson does not strike me as particularly delicate. And I believe other religious leaders do support her as being ordained by God.”
“That may be, but we are God’s chosen representatives here on Earth.”
“Oh, are you?”
“Yes, we are.”
“I’m sure the Jews would be surprised to hear that, as would the Muslims.”
“They are also children of the book. But the Holy Catholic Church is God’s authority on Earth. The Pope is infallible. His words are God’s words.”
“I see,” David said. “So the view of the Church is that both groups are genetic anomalies.”
“We do not see them as separate. Delaney McPhearson
is a genetic anomaly, just as the Fallen are.” The cardinal cupped his hands together in front of him. “God has asked us to be humble. To be thankful. These Fallen are aberrations, not created in God’s image.”
“If they are not created in God’s image, then whose image were they created in?”
The cardinal smiled. “Not God’s.”
“And what about their nature?” the President asked. “Are they good or evil?”
“As I said, they are not created in God’s image.”
David’s eyebrows rose. Well, that’s damning.
The President nodded at the cardinal. “Thank you for your input, Cardinal Moretti.”
The cardinal stood. “Thank you, Madame President. I look forward to our cooperative efforts in the days to come.”
The President nodded. The cardinal left the room. Cooperative efforts? The U.S. government was working with the Roman Catholic Church? That seemed problematic. Apparently the separation of church and state didn’t extend to cover incidents involving the Fallen or McPhearson.
David studied the President as she silently watched the door close behind the cardinal. “Is there anything else, Madame President?”
“Yes.” She turned her gaze from the door. “You have no doubt heard of the unrest in the populace that has arisen due to the existence of the Fallen.”
“Of course. I was under the impression the unrest was only due to small pockets of individuals. That the larger population, while wary, is more open to the Fallen.”
“The resistance to the Fallen is small, perhaps, but vocal. You have been studying this problem for the last few months. What is your view on the Fallen issue? Are they a danger to the public?”
All the incidents of the Fallen flew through his mind, but the last image was not one of the Fallen. It was of Rahim. The Iranian government had listed him as a danger to society’s moral fabric, which was why he had been slated to die. What a loss to the world if they had been allowed to carry that decision through.
Still, David chose his words carefully. “Some of them are extremely dangerous, such as this individual in Chicago, Dirk Magnet. If Delaney McPhearson and her agents had not taken him down, he would have done a great deal of damage. But Delaney McPhearson has Fallen and Nephilim on her team. There are no doubt countless others in the shadows just living quiet lives. I think much like the unrest, the loud ones are the ones we are focused on. But I think like all people, there are good ones and bad ones.”
