All Souls: A Gatehouse Thriller

by Karin Kaufman

  “Yeah.” I raked my fingers through my hair and relaxed in the seat a little. I wanted to ask him again about Hall, but instead I waited for him to offer what information he could.

  “I think you ought to know what I know,” he said, glancing back at the house. “I wasn’t sure until tonight, but now I am. I screwed up, big time. Elizabeth is still an Elation.”

  Nathan had a special way of breaking bad news, employing few words and no fanfare. I was speechless. All along I’d said I doubted Hall had been restored, but so much of my bluster had been combativeness, especially after learning she’d murdered a child. I’d left open the possibility she had been restored. I wanted her to be restored. I’d even hoped Nathan would explain away her aiming her pistol at him.

  “Wait a minute.” I shot a look at the house. “What about Zack and Claude?”

  “They’re safe. Claude knows about Elizabeth.”

  “But Hall’s an Elation,” I said, turning back. Surely he understood how lethal she was, how she could spring in an instant and kill them both.

  “Claude can handle three or four Elizabeth Halls.”

  “He was at Gatehouse, wasn’t he? But still—”

  “He was Three at Gatehouse. He’ll be fine, and so will Zack.”

  “Three?” The number three man in all of the U.S. Gatehouse. Holy cow. No wonder he’d kept such a cool head during the battle. I understood now why we had sought the safety of the B&R Ranch.

  “Anyway,” Nathan went on, “she’s not ready to make her move, and neither Zack nor Claude is her main target.”

  “You are.” That wasn’t a query, and he didn’t deny it. But I saw that look—the drawn-curtains, closed-doors one—and dropped the subject. Besides, now the question of timing was on my mind. “How does Claude know about Hall? I know you two didn’t talk alone after she shot that dead Sack.”

  “I talked to him about my suspicions when we first arrived.”

  “When did you suspect her?”

  “In Fort Collins, at your friends’ business.”

  I thought back to Nathan’s arrival at the Overstreets’ car bay on Halloween. Nothing in Hall’s words or actions had raised a red flag in my mind. To the contrary, it was then I’d begun to trust her.

  “When Elizabeth talked about the hunter she’d killed near Estes Park,” Nathan explained, “she said she’d been warned to expect a man in his early forties.”

  A few seconds passed before I put the pieces together. “Of course. Since when are Sacks warned about hunters going on a return? It doesn’t happen.”

  “It shouldn’t happen.”

  I’d heard Hall’s story about that night too, but it hadn’t registered with me as it had with Nathan. I’d been so focused on the boy’s death that I’d overlooked Hall’s verbal blunder. Thinking back, after Hall’s confession, Zack and I had never been left alone with her. Nathan had made sure we weren’t so much as sitting next to her in the rental car. I had thought he was trying to smooth frayed nerves by assigning his bratty charges seats, but he’d been keeping his eye on Hall.

  “Did someone warn her?” I asked. “Or was she lying about that?”

  “It’s possible someone in Gatehouse, or a porter, warned her.”

  “Who?”

  “That I don’t know.”

  “So why did Kath try to kill her? And why has she been helping us? She could have killed Zack and me at his house.”

  Nathan shook his head. “I doubt there are more than a handful of Elations and Embodiments who know she’s an infiltrator. Information like that can’t become widespread, it’s too risky. She’s still a target, and she knows it. She needs us to survive, and she needs to be a target for her restoration to be seen as genuine.” When a car on the highway drove by at a slower than usual speed, he stopped talking until it had passed to the west, out of sight. “That doesn’t mean you should let down your guard around her,” he added.

  “Should we tell Zack?”

  “He’s better off not knowing. He’s not good at hiding his emotions.”

  Nathan surveyed the property again, from his left rear to his right, then back toward the house, where Zack, I saw, was foolishly standing at the window, drapes drawn, in the brightly lit dining area. Hunters weren’t familiar with escape and evasion techniques—not like porters—but after all that had happened, I expected more discretion from him.

  “You said you weren’t sure until tonight that she’s still an Elation,” I said, looking back. “Is that because of Robert Roberts?”

  He was silent for a long time, weighing the pros and cons of answering my question. “You’ve guessed it’s code?” he finally said.

  “I figured.”

  He paused again before speaking. “Years ago, Steven Lake and I had a conversation at Gatehouse. If one of us knew there was an infiltrator, how would we warn the other without broadcasting the fact that we knew? And what if we either didn’t know the infiltrator’s name or couldn’t say it for some reason?”

  “Robert Roberts is code for Gatehouse has an infiltrator.”

  “Not quite. Our code was Roberta for a male infiltrator or Robert for a female infiltrator.”

  “Robert Roberts means there are two of them.”

  “Both female.”

  “Damn.” I scowled. “Still ...”

  “At this time there are only three female members of Gatehouse. Elizabeth Hall is one.”

  “Are you sure she’s one of the traitors?”

  Nathan nodded. “Where do you think Elizabeth heard the name Robert Roberts? Until now, I had no idea Steven had said the name.”

  He wasn’t just telling me the facts, he was teaching me to reason like a hunter, to stay alive in this vicious world of ours. “There’s only one way she could have heard it,” I said, the horror of it dawning on me. “From Manifest Manifest. Lake told Manifest before he died, then Manifest told Hall.”

  “That’s right. Steven knew he was going to die.” I thought I heard a slight catch in his voice. He cleared his throat before going on. “So he planted a tracker. One that would lead all the way back to our traitors. Either he found out about these traitors and that’s why he was killed, or Manifest told him about them, just for the fun of it, before he killed him. Steven realized he had a way to let me know. One way or another, that name was going to make its way back to me.”

  It was clear that Lake’s death, the cruel manner of it, continued to haunt him. He’d hunt Manifest like I’d hunt Sever—until the day we ended their lives. “But Manifest and Hall don’t have any idea what Robert Roberts means. Maybe they think it’s a real name.”

  “That’s the reason for that charade in the kitchen. Say the name, see the reaction. Find out who Robert Roberts is or, if it’s not a person, what the name means. Elizabeth knows the name is important somehow. She doesn’t have a lot of time to establish herself at Gatehouse, and she can’t stay on the run. She needs to be established now and protected now, so she took a calculated risk.” He peered out the back window of the SUV then reached into his coat pocket and withdrew my pistol, offering it to me. “Which is why we should get back to the house.”

  He reached for the door handle, but I stopped him. “Knowing what we know, wouldn’t it be better if we ...?” I let my words trail off as I put away my weapon. He knew what I meant.

  “Not when she could lead us to the other infiltrator.”

  He looked at me as if I’d disappointed him, and not because I’d forgotten that Hall was our trail of breadcrumbs to the second traitor. “We kill Sacks all the time, Nathan. And this one knows Manifest Manifest. She may even run him.”

  “She probably does.” He exhaled. Loudly. I was about to get reamed out. “Jane, you’re the best hunter I’ve ever known, but if it was up to me, you’d be out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I mean, you’d be out of the field and in Gatehouse. You don’t belong in the field.”

  “That makes no sense. You just said I was the best hunter.”
His words stung, though for a brief moment I wondered what access to Gatehouse’s records would mean in my trawling for Emily’s killer and now Sever. I could find them both. But I brushed the thought aside. I needed to be in the field. “Anyway, that’s strange coming from someone who left Gatehouse to go back into the field.”

  He put his hand to the car door. “Let’s go give Claude a break.”

  As I walked up the drive to the house, I noticed that someone had drawn the drapes and dimmed the lights in the kitchen. I glanced at Nathan, perfectly at ease at the sight, and calmed myself as we started up the walk to the bag-covered door. Time to plant a poker face.

  Claude and Hall were drinking coffee at the table and Zack was happily digging into a plate of pasta when we pushed our way through the trash bags. It had turned cold in the kitchen, and all three were wearing their jackets.

  “There’s more spaghetti on a plate in the oven,” Zack said, gesturing with his fork.

  I divvied up the warm, sticky spaghetti, fetched a couple forks, and took the plates to the table, giving one to Nathan. “How’s your arm, Claude?” I asked.

  “Fine. It only took twelve stitches.”

  “Good thing you’re right-handed,” I added.

  “Won’t be a problem at all,” he said, nodding.

  With little effort I’d downshifted into small talk, though it was small talk with a purpose, letting it be known that Claude was at full power. A ham-fisted display, but I thought it was necessary.

  Staring down at my plate, I contemplated what I was about to put into my mouth. Hour-old pasta dipped in red sauce from a jar. Red on red on red. I took a few bites then laid down my fork.

  “Why don’t you sleep?” Nathan said to Claude. “I’ll wake you in three hours.”

  “I won’t argue,” he said, sliding his half-full mug to the center of the table. “This coffee isn’t doing its job. I’ll be in my bedroom, door open. Shout if you need me.”

  Nathan told the rest of us to sleep if we could. Zack ambled off to the living-room couch, but when Hall said she didn’t need to sleep, I told Nathan I was too wired to shut my eyes. No way was I going to leave him alone with that Sack.

  “Coffee, you two?” I asked, heading for the kitchen. “I’m making some for me.” Grabbing a bag of coffee and a filter from the cabinet, I thought of Connor Doyle. He had been right about Hall. Instinctively and unfalteringly right.

  Chapter 20

  All Souls’ Day

  An hour before dawn I woke with a start on one of Claude’s living-room couches. I remembered deciding to lie down and put my feet up, but I had no recollection of falling asleep. I glanced at the digital clock on the DVD player atop the television then across the room to Zack, who was still sleeping, if the spittle at the corner of his mouth and his shallow breathing were anything to go by. I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the couch, listening.

  A floorboard creaked. I reached for my gun and looked in the direction of the hall, willing my sleep-blunted senses to life, forcing myself to full alertness so I could understand what I was hearing. There was a whisper—a man’s voice—from somewhere near the kitchen. Then car wheels on gravel and, distantly, an engine starting.

  I rose and stood in place until I was steady on my feet, then stepped into the hall and scanned the darkness for movement. The whisper was coming from the kitchen, I thought, and now there was a second whisper. Claude and Nathan. “It’s just me,” I said softly as I rounded the corner into the kitchen.

  Claude was at the table, and Nathan, who held a finger to his lips and motioned for me to sit down when I entered, was standing to the side of the drawn drapes. He asked me where Zack was, and when I told him Zack was still sleeping, he said that even now, with Hall gone, I should not mention her phony restoration. He stepped to the table and slid a piece of paper my way. There was handwriting on it.

  “What do you mean ‘gone’?” I whispered.

  “That was her, taking off in the rental car.” He pointed at the paper.

  I held the sheet close, angling it to take advantage of the low-wattage bulb over the stovetop. “I can no longer put all of you in danger,” it began. “You will be safer when I’m gone.” What bull. I looked to Nathan.

  “For now, that note is the official story,” he said quietly. “If Zack or anyone else asks, we believe she left to keep the rest of us safe.”

  “You let her go?”

  “I want to see where she goes.” He dropped into a chair and swung Claude’s laptop my way. It was online, connected to a tracking website. “I don’t think she’ll find all of the trackers in and under the car.”

  I grinned. “How did she make it out without setting off an alarm?”

  “She turned them all off,” Claude said, throwing up his hands. “Simple. She noticed I didn’t arm or disarm the house and grounds using a code. Until now I’ve never needed to. I just hit a switch. But what she didn’t know is that Nathan and I do a very good fake sleep.”

  “She put the car in neutral, rolled it down the drive, and didn’t start the engine until she was near the highway,” Nathan added.

  I shook my head. “Gatehouse is going to have one heck of a car rental bill when this is all over.”

  Nathan laughed. I hadn’t seen him laugh, actually laugh, in ages. Relief at seeing Hall leave was likely partly responsible for his lighter mood. He no longer had to hover over her, making sure she kept her distance from me and Zack. And if she came after us now, she’d be a righteous target, not a fellow human being traveling in our car and eating lunch at Claude’s table, but a righteous Sack target.

  “Does Gatehouse know about her?” I asked.

  “I’ll contact Head before we leave,” Nathan said.

  “So we’re still leaving?”

  “Yes,” Nathan said. “Claude too.”

  “Your poor house,” I said, looking about the dimly lit kitchen, glancing from the bloody cabinets and what looked like bullet holes in everything from the oven to the front door, the latter resting against a wall near the gun rack. I was glad most of the lights were off.

  “Friends will take care of things while I’m gone,” Claude said. “This house has been through worse.”

  “What, in wartime?” I said.

  “September eleventh. And twelfth.”

  “It was that bad? I never heard a word about anything happening here.”

  “You never do hear, do you? And my neighbors, except for the one watching Harry, will never know about this, even if they heard shots. I use my back yard as a gun range all the time.”

  So Claude was not only a former Three but he’d seen this level of slaughter before. Nathan and I would see this and worse if the Sacks kept escalating, I thought, or if they decided to exchange their rash stupidity for genuine tactics. “What if those Sacks had tried to break in at five or six different points in this house?” I asked.

  “Hey,” Zack said, appearing in the kitchen doorway, rubbing the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hand. “What’s up?”

  “Zack, my boy,” Claude said, pushing to his feet and taking hold of Hall’s note. “Let me tell you all about it.” Putting an arm on Zack’s shoulder, he led him down the hall.

  I crossed my legs and leaned back in my chair. While Hall’s departure had lessened the tension in the house, it had brought with it a new worry. Now we had to figure out what she was up to. If she’d return with an army of Sacks to hunt us—an army including Manifest Manifest. Maybe Sever and Capitolina, the Sack who had killed Chester Avila.

  “I was thinking about my mom,” I said.

  “I’m so sorry, Jane. You haven’t even had time to grieve.”

  “No,” I said emphatically. “That isn’t what I mean. I can’t talk about that.”

  “You should.”

  “No, I can’t.” I couldn’t start down that deeply personal road. I’d lose it if I did. “We both know my mother was targeted, but why did they send a Festal after her? I can see why they
sent a Festal after you, even Chester—but my mom?”

  “Maybe they thought she carried a weapon.”

  “Thinking that I would have told her to.”

  “Possibly.”

  “They didn’t know she wasn’t part of my life anymore.” He didn’t mention another, obvious possibility, that the Festal might have thought she was being guarded by a hunter, as she should have been. “She should have been in a safe house. I should have told her to go.”

  “Would she have gone?”

  A sensible question that put a halt to my self-pity should-have train before it could work up a head of steam. “No.”

  “So why do you think they sent a Festal?”

  Sometimes he asked me what I thought because he wanted to teach me, and sometimes, as now, he asked because he thought I could offer some insight. Which made his comment about me not belonging in the field even more puzzling. If I didn’t belong, my opinion didn’t matter. “I think Hall runs Manifest Manifest. We know he killed in New Mexico, then Colorado, then again in New Mexico, probably following Hall. I think she’s been telling the Sacks where we are every step of the way, waiting for when she was alone to contact them, like at the Overstreets’, when she sent Zack with us, and in the restroom in Colorado.”

  “And here.”

  “What happened here wasn’t a random, probing Sack attack.”

  “Agreed.”

  “So I think Hall sent a Festal to my house or instructed Manifest to send one. She wanted to make sure the job was done right.”

  “Possibly as a way to neutralize you. While she was with us, she learned you were an effective hunter.”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. That would mean killing my mother was thought out, and I think it was pure, spiteful Sackness.”

  “So what would you do now?” He leaned forward, crossing his arms on the table.

  “I think we need to look at all her close contacts from when she was still calling herself an Elation. She’s using those contacts now.” Casting my eyes to the floor, where the end cabinet met the wall and we’d all dropped our backpacks, I asked him if Claude had given Hall’s pack to her.