He picked himself up off the floor, shook the glass off of his clothing, and headed for the stairs. Cade was furious – not only at the Order’s attack on Gabrielle the night before but also over their subsequent attempt to lock him up and interrogate him as a enemy collaborator, as if he’d ever ally himself with the sick bastard that had destroyed his life - but his anger was a luxury that he couldn’t indulge right now and he did his best to stuff it back down into the dark recesses of his mind to be dealt with later.
He knew that he didn’t have a lot of time; the Preceptor would send a team here as soon as he discovered that Cade had escaped from the interrogation room. There was no doubt in Cade’s mind that Johannson would see the escape as further evidence that he was colluding with the enemy, but there wasn’t anything he could do about that at the moment. Every Templar would now be gunning for Gabrielle in an effort to take out the thing possessing her and Cade didn’t have time to waste disabusing the Preceptor of his notion that he had gone rogue. He had to find Gabrielle before the others did or everything he had worked for since digging her out of her own grave would be for naught. He didn’t know how he was going to wrest control of Gabrielle’s body back from the Adversary, but one thing was for certain – if his former companions got to her before he did, he’d never have the opportunity to try.
He suspected he still had some allies in the Order – he’d led the special combat teams for quite a few years, after all – but he had no way of knowing just who he could trust and who he couldn’t, which meant all of them were suspect.
Hell, even Riley could no longer be trusted. Sure, he’d helped him back at the commandery, but he’d also ordered the other Templars to fire on Gabrielle.
Of all the betrayals, that one hurt most of all.
Best to just get what he needed and get the hell out of there as quickly as possible before the Templar strike team showed up. That way he wouldn’t have to hurt anybody.
One thing was certain; there was no way he was going to let anyone, not even the Order, stand in his way. He would rescue Gabrielle or die trying.
He hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen. He kept a ready bag in the cabinet by the back door, a habit dating all the way back to his STOP team days. He grabbed it before leaving the house and heading across the yard to his workshop.
The bag contained enough essential gear to keep him going for several days, including a change of clothing, extra cash, two different sets of IDs, extra ammunition for his pistol and his MP5, a personal first aid kit, a tactical radio, a headlamp, and a multi-purpose tool. The contents were oriented toward tactical response rather than a standard bug-out. He wasn’t looking to survive the zombie apocalypse - though in his line of work that particular circumstance wasn’t necessarily out of the question – just go to ground for a few days and lay low.
Hopefully those few days wouldn’t turn out to be a few weeks.
He reached the old barn that he’d converted into a workshop and pushed the door open along its sliding track. Shortly after buying the property, Cade gutted and rebuilt the entire structure, turning the barn’s lower floor into a well-furnished study. What had once been horse stables was now a large, open room with bookshelves lining the walls and several work tables arranged in a semi-circle facing toward the door. A wood-burning stove stood in the far corner, its thick black pipe running up through the floor of the second story high above. An oversized mirror, a good four feet across, had once been bolted to the center of the floor, but that was gone now, victim of a previous mission.
Cade moved straight to the shelves above the center table and took down a long black case with silver clasps. Inside was the sword given to him at his investiture ceremony making him a formal knight of the Order, its blade inscribed on one side with the Latin word for Defender – Defensor – as were all similar Templar weapons. Shortly thereafter Cade had broken Templar custom and had another word etched onto the blade on the reverse side. Ulciscor, Latin for vengeance. The words were like the two opposing sides of his personality and for years he’d walked a fine line balancing between them.
Now, it seemed, it was time to choose.
For Cade, there was no doubt which was the right choice. He would see the Adversary pay for the damage he had caused his family, for the anguish and the pain they’d suffered, for the years of happiness he had stolen from them.
He would have his vengeance.
With go-bag and sword case in hand, Cade was about to turn away when his gaze fell upon the thick, leather-bound journal resting a few inches away on the table top. The journal contained the fruits of his labors over the last five years in researching the Adversary, every little piece of information painstakingly double-checked and verified. It was perhaps the largest collection of information on fallen angels outside of the Vatican archives and in certain hands could be decidedly dangerous.
He scooped it up and dropped it into his go-bag, not wanting to leave it lying around where anyone might find it.
With that, he was finished.
Cade turned and made his way back out of the barn, rolling the sliding doors closed behind him. He thought about chaining them shut, but then decided against it. He wanted to keep the Order’s strike team here as long as possible; every second they wasted would be one more he could use to get farther away.
He ran around the side of the house to where he kept his back-up vehicle. Stripping off the tarp that covered it, he exposed a beat-up old Jeep CJ that looked like it wouldn’t make it a mile down the road. The exterior was deceiving, though. He’d stripped out the original 4.2 liter engine and replaced it with a V8 from a Ford 150 pickup truck, giving it the horsepower he needed, both on the highway and off-road.
Nor was that the only improvement he’d made. He added the usual off-road amenities – a three inch lift over 33 inch tires, a custom front bumper that doubled as a ramming plow, and full-strength winch mounted just behind it – but he’d also created a hidden storage space for his weapons by ripping out the rear seat and putting in a false floor six inches above the actual one.
He didn’t bother properly stowing everything at the moment, just tossed his bag into the passenger seat and climbed inside the vehicle after it. The keys were hanging from the ignition and all he needed to do was give them a twist. The engine started without hesitation, the throaty growl that issued forth from under the hood assuring him that everything was okay.
Cade put the Jeep in drive and was about to head down the driveway when he saw lights coming toward him through the trees east of his property. He counted three, no four, separate vehicles. Whoever they were, they weren’t messing around.
Time to go, he thought.
Rather than head for the street and be forced into a confrontation with whoever was in the approaching vehicles, Cade drove across the front lawn to the other side of the house. A narrow dirt track, just wide enough to fit the Jeep, ran through the woods at the edge of the yard and he headed down it as quickly as he dared in the darkness, not wanting to turn on the headlights and give away his position. The road ran in a straight line for the first few hundred yards so he was able to navigate it with only the occasional scrape of the undergrowth on each side. When he came to the first turn, he made his way around the curve and then brought the vehicle to a halt.
Cade dug his pistol out of his go-bag, dropped a full magazine into it, and then got out of the Jeep, walking a few yards along the road in the direction he’d come.
On the other side of the curve he stopped and stood in the middle of the road, watching and listening.
No lights were approaching nor did he hear the sound of engines in the night air. In fact, aside from a few vague shouts coming through the woods from the direction of his house, he didn’t hear any signs of pursuit. Apparently, they hadn’t seen him.
Cade nodded to himself in approval. One last thing to do...
Returning to the Jeep he opened up the console between the seats and withdrew a disposable, prepaid cell pho
ne. He dialed a number from memory and waited.
The phone rang once...twice...and then was answered.
“Riley.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cade asked. He was suddenly, deeply, pissed. All the anger he’d been holding onto since the assault on the bridge came welling up at the sound of his former teammate’s voice and it was all he could do to keep himself from raging at his friend.
Or ex-friend.
He wasn’t exactly sure which it was at this point.
“What am I doing?” Riley asked. ”What are you doing? Have you totally lost your mind? You’re interference could have gotten someone killed.”
“My interference saved someone from being killed, you mean. That was my wife you were shooting at!”
Cade realized he was shouting and made an effort to calm himself down. He’d gotten away from the house without being seen; it wouldn’t do to give away his position now.
Riley was silent a moment, and then said, “No matter what you think, that wasn’t your wife. Not anymore.”
Cade shook his head, oblivious to the fact that Riley couldn’t see it. ”No, you’re wrong. That WAS my wife.”
“Her body, yes, but that’s all.”
But Cade refused to believe that. He had gone through too much, suffered too long, fought too hard to just walk away. While there was a chance, no matter how slim, he would chase after it.
“You heard her on the bridge, Riley. She called my name!”
“Something called you, I’ll give you that. But I doubt very much it was your wife.”
Cade had had enough; he didn’t have time to argue. ”Believe whatever you want,” he said, “but understand this. I intend to rescue Gabrielle and I won’t let you or anyone else get in my way.”
Riley was not easily intimidated. ”Think about it for a minute, man! We’re talking about the Adversary. You can’t possibly expect us to just sit back and let him carry out whatever fucked-up plan he has in mind while you get your act together. Innocent people will die!”
For the first time since the conversation started, Cade agreed with his former teammate. He just didn’t care. ”Yes, they will. But innocent people die all the time and in the end it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
“It doesn’t matter?” Riley replied, clearly incredulous at what he was hearing. ”Have you gone nuts? Of course it matters. Protecting the innocent is the entire reason the Order exists!”
A year ago Cade would have agreed with him. But the death of Preceptor Michaels had started a slow slide away from that focus as certain individuals began to assert their will on the way the Order was run, directing it not for the good of the people but for their own selfish ends, and now Cade no longer believed that the Order followed that original mandate. What he’d experienced earlier that very evening reinforced that opinion and told him that things were going to get much worse before they got better.
If they got better at all.
It was time he looked out for his own.
“Tell the Preceptor to back off,” Cade said. ”I will deal with the Adversary. If any harm comes to Gabrielle – if even a single hair on her head is damaged from something the Order decided to do from this point forward – then those responsible will have to deal with me!”
“Be reasonable! You can’t...”
Cade pressed the ‘End Call’ button and cut Riley off in mid-sentence. He powered the phone off, then dropped it to the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot. Replacing the phone was much easier than taking the chance that the Order was tracking him through the phone’s connection to the cellular network he’d been using. He scooped up the pieces and flung them into the woods.
He glanced back down the road in the direction of his home a final time, as if to say goodbye, and then climbed back into the Jeep and drove off.
Time was running out and he had a fallen angel to find.
CHAPTER TEN
Once out of the woods and back on more regularly travelled roads, Cade drove north, through Hartford and across the state line into Massachusetts. He grabbed some fast food at a rest stop outside of Springfield, then drove into the outskirts of the city where he found a motel and took a room around the back, out of view of the street.
He’d had time to think about his next move on the drive north. He’d pretty much exhausted his local targets before running afoul of the Order; the succubus he’d interrogated the other night had been the last one on his list. With nowhere else to turn, he thought it was time to try something a bit more extreme.
It was time to look in the Archives.
Officially established in 1475, though they had existed for quite some time before that, the Archivum Secretum Vaticaun, or Secret Vatican Archives, was an extension of the Vatican library that preserved and enhanced the deeds and documents related to the government of the Catholic Church, including the papers of the individual Popes. Its five miles of shelving housed some one million volumes written between the 8th and the 21st centuries. It was the Church’s official stance that the word “secret” did not mean unknown or hidden away, but rather referred to the fact that the collection was the Pope’s personal property.
Conspiracy theorists believed that there was far more to the secret archives than the Church was letting on. In their view the Church was hiding information that would shake the very foundations of society if it was ever released to the public. What that information might actually be changed depending on who you were talking to; theories ranged from proof that Christ had been merely human to a secret tome that would bring about the events chronicled in the Book of Revelation if it was ever read aloud, among others. Most also believed that the archives held a wide variety of mystical relics, from the Holy Grail to the Ark of the Covenant.
Why else would the Church restrict access to all but four people, the conspiracists would often ask, if they contained only simple documents related to the day-to-day management of the Church?
As head of the Templar’s special combat teams, Cade knew the truth. The archives did contain information that would throw the world into turmoil, but it had nothing to do with Christianity. No, the archives contained the truth about the reality of the supernatural world; the truth about how humankind was surrounded by creatures that saw humans as something to be toyed with, or, even worse, fed upon. If that wasn’t bad enough, the information contained therein made it clear that not only were such creatures stronger and faster than the average human being, but that they were often far harder to kill as well.
The Church believed that such information would frighten Joe Public out of their minds and had worked dutifully for many years to keep that information out of the hands of the average man on the street. Even the very name was designed to be misleading; the Vatican Secret Archives weren’t in the Vatican at all, but miles away on the other side of the English Channel at the Templar’s headquarters in Rosslyn, Scotland. More than a little subterfuge was carried out to safeguard the true archives; a portion of the library in Rome was kept locked and under twenty-four hour guard, access to its contents was severely restricted, and certain rumors were carefully leaked at appropriate times. All of this theater was nothing more than that, theater; a large-scale feat of misdirection that kept the public occupied with trying to break the secret of the archives. A secret that didn’t really exist except in their own heads.
It was a marvelous piece of social engineering and Cade had to give them credit for not only coming up with it in the first place, but being able to maintain it in this age of smart phones, Instagram, and the Internet. The Order had an entire division dedicated to just monitoring the various forms of social media, making sure to discredit any actual photographs or video that got uploaded by either flooding the net with similar, though obviously faked, footage or disparaging the reputation of those who did the uploading in the first place.
Cade had long suspected that the Archives held information about the Adversary that hadn’t been made availabl
e to the Order’s regular rank and file. He’d gone so far as to request access to that information several times over the years, but his requests had always been denied. No such files existed, was the standard answer. Nor had he ever been able to search for them himself, as the few times he’d been within the archives he had always been in the company of the custodian. With his own personal resources exhausted and without being any closer to finding the Adversary than when he’d started, he thought it was about time to take a look for himself.
He knew he could make the drive to either Hartford or Boston and from there catch a flight overseas, but that would take more time than he wanted to give up at the moment. Thankfully he now had another option. He could get to the Archives, and back again, without having to fly anywhere.
Cade walked into the bathroom where he found a fair-sized mirror held to the wall with four small, plastic mounts. He used the tip of his knife to unscrew the mounts and then took the mirror, frame and all, back into the main room and put it on the floor in front of the bed.
He knew he was pushing things by travelling through the Beyond again so soon after his last trip. Passing through the Veil was both mentally and spiritually taxing and the time spent on the other side, chronologically out of whack with the real world, took a physical toll on one’s body as well. He’d been in a hurry to get his gear and get out of the house after his unorthodox arrival and so he hadn’t felt the effects of his most recent journey into the Beyond until he’d been on the road a bit. Now, a couple of hours later, he felt tired and out-of-sorts and he knew it was only going to get worst after this trip.
Still, what other choice did he have? He needed to get to the Archives quickly and he needed to do it in a way that kept him off the Order’s radar, at least until he had what he needed. Besides, entering the Archives by way of the Beyond helped him avoid not only the guards outside but the locks on the entrance doors as well. It really was the best option available.
Judgment Day (Templar Chronicles Book 5) Page 8
