“No, not the compound,” Daniel corrected. “I’m already in the city at the downtown library. I thought I might come to your apartment.”
Hunt offered a counter-proposal. “There’s a bar around the corner from my place.” He gave Daniel the address.
“I’ll be there in half an hour.” There was a long pause. “And Mr. Hunt...”
“Yup?”
“Please don’t tell anyone about this meeting.”
The cowboy raised his eyebrows, intrigued by Daniel’s attempt at cloak-and-dagger. “Okey-dokey.”
***
Thirty minutes later, Hunt sat on a barstool nursing his second glass of whiskey while he waited for Daniel to show. He idly scanned the tavern clientele. It was still too early in the evening for serious drinkers to arrive. Happy hour was in full swing which meant there was enough noisy chatter to drown out whatever the kid wanted to tell him.
Daniel sloped up and tapped him on the shoulder.
“Grab a stool, boy,” the cowboy instructed.
“Uh, no. I’d rather not sit at the bar. I have something confidential to discuss with you.”
Growing even more intrigued, Leroy gestured toward the booths against the wall. They had high wooden backs which prevented nosy third-parties from eavesdropping.
Daniel ordered a pale ale. When it arrived, the two men took their drinks and headed for the stall farthest from the door.
They slid into seats opposite one another.
Studying the Scion’s beverage choice, the cowboy observed, “Son, someday you’re gonna have to belly up to a grown man’s drink.”
Daniel took a sip of his ale. “Considering that I didn’t touch spirits at all when you first met me, you ought to view this as a sign of progress.”
“Suit yourself.” Hunt shrugged. “Now what’s so all-fired important that you had to bother me after-hours?”
“This.” Daniel pushed a leather portfolio across the table toward Leroy.
The cowboy stared at the bag uncomprehendingly and then at the Diviner’s son. “What y’all want me to do with that?”
“Help me understand what it means,” the Scion replied.
The cowboy scrutinized the bag, his eyes immediately drawn to the gold leaf on the front that spelled “Bowdeen.”
“This belonged to Chopper?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes. I visited the Melbourne compound while I was in Australia. The archwarden said Mr. Bowdeen left this behind.”
“Well, it ain’t like he’s gonna need it where he is now.” Hunt guffawed.
Daniel rolled his eyes. “Returning the bag to its owner isn’t my concern. It’s the paperwork inside. I need your help to...” He hesitated. “...connect the dots.”
“I ain’t no good with puzzles, boy,” Leroy demurred.
“This is a special kind of puzzle.” Daniel opened the case and drew out several sheets of paper. They appeared to be blueprints. “One I’m sure you’ll understand far better than I do.”
Leroy leaned over the table and peered at the pages in the dim light. The layout seemed vaguely familiar.
“This is the floorplan for the central compound,” Daniel explained.
The cowboy remained unimpressed. “So what? As I recollect, Chopper was workin’ on security for your old man in the States and overseas. Why shouldn’t he keep blueprints to the compound?”
“Yes, but look at these notes.” Daniel traced his finger across a series of arrows hand-drawn on the blueprint. The arrows marked a route from an access door on the west side of the building. They ended right outside a room that was labeled “Diviner’s Office.”
Leroy knit his brows in concentration. “That is a trifle strange,” he admitted.
“And look at this.” Daniel pointed to three dots inside the Diviner’s office and one dot right at the end of the corridor leading to the office. They had all been circled. “Those are security camera locations,” he said.
A notation scribbled next to the designated surveillance equipment read, “Joshua to disable cams.” A date was scrawled next to the message along with the words, “12 AM sharp.”
The cowboy sat even farther forward, his interest finally piqued. “Will you look at that? Chopper was up to somethin’ all right.” He transferred his attention to Daniel. “That date mean anythin’ to you?”
The Scion nodded gravely. “It certainly does. That was the night Mr. Bowdeen attempted to kill my father. Your friend was shot by my brother Joshua instead.”
The cowboy scratched his head. He pondered the evidence before him in silence for several seconds before rising abruptly. “I need another drink,” he announced and walked back to the bar.
Returning a few minutes later, he set down a bottle of whiskey and a spare glass. After resuming his seat, he poured himself another shot and filled the empty glass, sliding it across the table to Daniel.
“I don’t drink whiskey,” the Scion protested.
“You will by the time we’re done sussin’ this out,” the cowboy muttered with a scowl on his face. “Before I tell you what I think, give me the lowdown on what happened that night. Step-by-step and don’t leave nothin’ out.”
Daniel launched into a detailed account of the facts he’d been able to gather about the assassination attempt.
The scowl on Leroy Hunt’s face deepened with every sentence. When Daniel had finished, the cowboy asked, “And your brother Josh just happened to be cruisin’ through the neighborhood while my old buddy was fixin’ to shoot your daddy?”
“My brother said he’d grown suspicious of Mr. Bowdeen’s behavior and that he’d been keeping tabs on him for quite some time.”
“Don’t it strike you funny that a feller your brother tagged as a shifty character could make it all the way to your old man’s office at midnight without bells and whistles goin’ off in the guard shack? How come security didn’t stop him before he got that far?”
Daniel grew chalkier than usual. “Nobody questioned Joshua’s version of events.”
“Uh huh,” the cowboy remarked laconically.
Without thinking, the Scion took the glass of whisky and gulped half of it down, causing him to sputter and cough. When he could breathe again, he gasped, “That means Joshua must have disabled the cameras just as the blueprints indicated.”
Leroy chuckled sardonically at Daniel’s dawning recognition. “There it is.”
“They must have planned the assassination together,” Daniel speculated shakily. “Maybe my brother lost his nerve at the last moment,”
“And there it went.” Hunt shook his head in exasperation. “Boy, you ain’t got the street smarts God gave a country hen.”
Daniel looked confused. “What are you saying? That my brother intended to shoot his accomplice?”
“Accomplice, my ass!” The cowboy treated the Scion to a withering look. “That set-up wasn’t Chopper’s style. Tell me some more about your brother Josh.”
Daniel regaled Hunt with Joshua’s rumored activities as a spymaster, his close association with Chopper Bowdeen in militarizing the satellites, and his lifelong envy of his brother.
“So Josh thinks he got the short end of the stick cause you’re next in line to run things?”
“He would do anything to discredit me.”
“Maybe he wasn’t havin’ much luck with talkin’ you down you so he tried a different tack. He figured to make himself look good by savin’ your daddy’s life.”
Daniel took another gulp of whisky. “So you think he saw an opportunity to betray his co-conspirator and took it?”
“Nope.” Leroy rubbed his chin absently. “I know for a fact that Chopper was always jumpy about workin’ for your old man. I never could conjure why. Maybe Josh knew my buddy’s weak spot too seein’ as how they spent so much time together. Could be your brother worked that nerve raw ‘til Chopper was ready to do somethin’ really stupid.”
“What are you saying?” The Scion stared at him intently.
; “I’m sayin’ your brother Josh played Chopper like a cheap fiddle. He set him up, son. Ole Josh never planned to kill your daddy. He only wanted to make himself look like a hero by shootin’ my army pal in the back. And Chopper was just dumb enough to fall for it.”
Daniel swallowed the rest of his whisky and poured himself another glass.
The cowboy gave a grim smile. “Though I ain’t met him, your brother Josh strikes me as the kind of feller who'd slip a rattlesnake in your pocket and then ask you for a light. Better watch your back, son, or what happened to Chopper is gonna happen to you.”
“Joshua wouldn’t kill me!” Daniel exclaimed. “He’s my own brother.”
“So I guess you ain’t never heard the story about them two boys named Cain and Abel?” the cowboy asked dryly. “With you bein’ such a Bible-thumper, that surely is a wonder.”
Daniel was too stunned to speak as the implication hit him.
Leroy took his companion’s silence as an opportunity to mentally assess how much of a threat this new player might be to his own plans. A sidewinder like Josh who made it his business to know everybody else’s might be trouble. Of more concern was Josh’s desire to mess with Daniel at a time when Leroy still needed the runt to find the last doodad for him. Josh was a wild card that could queer Leroy’s chances of cashing in. No matter how the cowboy looked at it, Josh needed to meet the pointy end of a well-placed bullet. The cowboy quickly rejected that notion. Killing him outright might open a whole new can of worms. Maybe there was a craftier way to put him out of commission.
He turned his attention back to Daniel. “So what you fixin’ to do about this situation, son?”
“We have to alert my father immediately. These blueprints are all the proof we need. Joshua must be stopped.”
Hunt downed the rest of his drink and grinned. “It’s like you read my mind.”
Chapter 14—Survivor Immunity
Erik blinked his eyes several times. The glare from an overhead fluorescent light was too intense. He shut them again. Was he lying on a hospital cot? He tried to raise his arms but discovered that they were strapped down. He felt a panicky sense of disorientation. What was this place? He couldn’t remember. He’d been in and out of consciousness for days now. Or was it weeks?
He did recall being shot—repeatedly. Then he saw a man in a white hazmat suit sticking a gas mask over his face. That process seemed to be part of an infinite loop as it recurred at regular intervals in his dreams. He tried to roll to his side but his ankles were pinned down as well. No matter, any movement he made caused a jolt of pain. The bullet wounds, he supposed.
“Ah, I see you’re waking up.”
Erik’s eyes darted around the room, trying to locate the speaker.
A dark-skinned man in a white lab coat came to lean over his bed. He looked Arabic. Strangely enough, he was smiling and appeared pleased about something. “Congratulations, my friend. Despite my best efforts to kill you, you seem determined to live.”
The Paladin squinted at him, not sure if he’d heard the words correctly. They made no sense.
“While you were napping this afternoon, we removed the intravenous needles and catheter. It’s time for you to function on your own. If you promise to give me no trouble, I’ll remove the restraints and help you to sit up. Alright?”
“OK,” Erik murmured. His mouth was so dry that the word sounded like an incoherent croak.
The man in the lab coat released the velcro straps from his wrists and ankles. “Slowly now. You may experience dizziness if you rise too quickly.”
Erik couldn’t rise quickly even if he wanted to. His muscles refused to obey him.
The Arab helped him swing his legs over the side of the bed. Then he pulled Erik’s arms forward and braced him until he could sit upright.
The Paladin tried to speak again. This time he forced out the word, “Who?”
Understanding the question, the man nodded. “My name is Doctor Rafi Aboud. I am your host.”
“Wh... wh...” Erik cleared his throat and tried again. “Where am I?”
“In an underground laboratory.”
This time the Paladin’s eyes flew open wide. Memories came flooding back. He’d been shot by the Nephilim while trying to rescue Hannah. They must have brought him to the secret lab but he wasn’t sure why. Apparently, he’d been here for some time. He plucked at the front of his hospital gown in an effort to examine the bullet holes.
“Ah, ah,” the doctor cautioned. “Mustn’t do that. You might tear the stitches. They aren’t quite ready to come out yet. Given the number of bullets that struck you, it’s amazing they managed to miss your major organs. Not so much as a shattered bone. I would say that makes you lucky on two counts.”
Erik scowled. “Why would you help me?” His voice was gravelly but now fully articulate.
“Because you helped me—inadvertently, of course.” Aboud chuckled. “I needed one more test subject for my vaccine formula. You were very close to death, my friend. My assistants patched you up well enough for me to use you in my experiments.”
“Experiments?”
“In light of recent developments, there’s no point in hiding the facts from you now.” Aboud shrugged. “My benefactor charged me with the task of creating an aggressive strain of pneumonic plague. I succeeded magnificently but this created a new dilemma.” He smiled mordantly. “It was so effective that I couldn’t quell the disease. Vaccine after vaccine failed. Until now.”
Erik’s mind was racing. The man in the hazmat suite hadn’t been a hallucination. The Paladin had probably been here for weeks. Aboud must have vaccinated him immediately and, once his body had built up the necessary antibodies, infected him with plague germs at regular intervals. Why couldn’t he remember any more details? Had he been drugged this whole time?
Aboud was still talking. “After you survived my first experiment, I tried several other variations of the virus, each more lethal than the last, to see if the vaccine could stand the test. Fortunately for you, it did.”
The doctor walked over to a table against the wall and poured some liquid from a pitcher into a plastic cup. Returning, he handed it to Erik. “Here, drink a little water. It’s important to stay hydrated now that we’ve taken you off intravenous fluids.”
Erik took the proffered cup and drank. It helped soothe his parched throat. He silently marveled at the irony of his situation. For months, he’d tried without success to learn the specifics of what was going on in the secret lab. Now he found himself in the very belly of the beast. Ruefully, he remembered one of Faye’s favorite adages: “Be careful what you wish for.”
Aboud interrupted his thoughts. “Let’s see if you can stand up.” He steadied Erik’s arms as the Paladin slid off the bed.
At first Erik’s knees buckled. His legs had turned to rubber. He leaned back against the cot until he stopped swaying. Then he cautiously stood upright.
“Very good.” Aboud nodded approvingly. “Now try taking a few steps toward me.”
The doctor backed away. Erik found he had to consciously focus on placing one foot in front of the other. He felt dizzy and weak and every movement tugged painfully at his stitches but he managed to reach the spot where Aboud was standing. Then he toppled into the doctor’s waiting arms.
“Excellent. You’ve done very well for today.” Aboud sounded as pleased as a father guiding his son’s first steps.
Erik was struck by the paradox.
The doctor steered him back to the cot and helped him reseat himself. “I’ll send someone around with a tray of food for you in a little while. Your first solid meal in weeks. It’s important that you rebuild your strength quickly since we have an important meeting to attend.”
The Paladin raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“I told my benefactor of our successful experiment.”
“Benefactor?” Erik repeated cautiously.
“Yes, you would know him as your Diviner.”
Erik still re
gistered confusion. Aboud apparently thought he was a member of the Blessed Nephilim.
“Mr. Metcalf was overjoyed at the news. In fact, he has taken your survival as a sign from heaven that you are to be spared. You should know that he only sends malefactors to me for what he considers their just punishment. However, in your case, he is prepared to pardon you for all previous wrongdoing. He said that if God has preserved your life, then he must do likewise. That is why he wants to meet you. He wishes to bestow his blessing and absolve you of your sins.”
Erik felt completely befuddled by the news. He tried harder to focus. Staring at the doctor, he asked, “Doesn’t he know who I am?”
“My friend, even I don’t know who you are. You were brought here in a body bag by Joshua Metcalf and left for dead. What is your name, by the way?”
“Erik.” The Paladin cleared his throat. “So the Diviner doesn’t know what I did?”
“I have no idea.” Aboud shrugged. “Over the past few months he’s sent any number of people to my lab to be used as test subjects. I doubt he knew many of them personally. Of course, none of them arrived riddled with bullets as you did. Was it a firing squad?”
“Huh?”
“I can only assume that Joshua and his men shot you for some infraction.”
Erik nodded slowly, trying to play along. “Did you tell the Diviner about my injuries?”
“I assumed he knew. If he didn’t then the matter is between Mr. Metcalf and his son Joshua. Either way, you have immunity now. The Diviner has wiped the slate clean. He will tell you so himself during our meeting.”
The Paladin tried to wrap his head around this new set of facts. Joshua’s security team had shot him and dumped him here. Why wouldn’t the spymaster have told the Diviner about an intruder on the grounds? Knowing how little information Metcalf shared with his underlings, it appeared the apple hadn’t fallen far from the tree. For now, Erik needed to figure out how to use that lack of disclosure to his advantage.
He was going to be transported to the main compound for his interview with Metcalf. Given his injuries, it was ridiculous to think he could make a break for it and fight his way out. He started to evolve a new plan. Metcalf had never seen him before so there was no danger from that quarter. Only three men inside the compound could ID him—Joshua, Daniel and Hunt. If Joshua saw Erik, he wouldn’t tell his father because he’d have some awkward explaining to do about the night of the break-in. Daniel was an ally so he could be trusted to keep his mouth shut. Leroy Hunt preferred to avoid the compound altogether so there was very little chance they’d run into each other.
The Sage Stone Prophecy (Arkana Archaeology Adventure Series Book 7) Page 9
