The Fifth Gospel

by Grubb, Michelle

  The flight from Belfast had been fine. She had sat next to Anna, but they barely spoke, and she was grateful her iPod held enough charge to last the journey. There were no unpleasant exchanges, just a cold silence so vast it could fill the Grand Canyon.

  A knock startled Flic from a nap, and she was pleased to wake before she caught too much sun. “Hang on.”

  Max greeted her with a cheesy grin. “Hiya, Flic. Can I come in?”

  Flic was pleased Max was tactful. He would have had to be blind and deaf not to realize there was tension between her and Anna.

  “I’ve picked up some tension. What’s going on?”

  Max had apparently lost his tact.

  “Have you spoken to her?”

  Max cringed. “By her I assume you mean Anna.”

  “Yes, sorry. Have you spoken to Anna?”

  Max poured them both a glass of iced water. “No, not yet. I wanted to know how you were feeling after yesterday.”

  Flic paused. Yesterday? Were they on the same page? Surely Anna hadn’t mentioned their little altercation to Max?

  He clarified. “Your nerves. You feeling okay about the signing and appearance this afternoon?”

  Since the altercation with Anna, nothing else had entered her mind. She was, in fact, calm about the impending public appearance and naturally concluded that because yesterday had run smoothly, and to plan, her fear had subsided. She felt safe with Max on board and smiled. “I’m good. It’s all good. I think just over half an hour is long enough in the public eye for the time being.”

  Max nodded.

  “Can we stick to the same routine as yesterday?”

  “Of course, but if you two can’t even look at each other, the system we had yesterday now has an obvious flaw.”

  So Max did know something else was going on. This snag hadn’t occurred to her. “So, you’ll talk to her then?”

  “Not on your life. That’s your deal, but cut her some slack. She’s looking after you on a professional level and trying to be your friend. It’s a high pressure job, and I think she’s doing her best.”

  Flic contemplated Max’s advice after he left. He rarely spoke great monologues, but when he said something, it was usually worth listening to. Flic threw a T-shirt over her bikini top and left her room in search of Anna. She found her staring at her laptop in the luxurious and expansive hotel foyer, sipping coffee.

  “Hello.” Although appropriate, the greeting sounded ridiculous. But with absolutely no clue regarding Anna’s mindset, Flic was wary. Last night had predominantly been her fault, but Anna’s totally unfair implication left her insulted and defeated.

  Heavy, dark eyes dominated her usual features, and glancing up, Anna sighed heavily and smiled slightly. “Flic, hi. Have you got a minute?”

  The inevitable make up conversation was unavoidable. Flic sat, determined to say her piece first. “I’m sorry I got carried away last night.” Filled with Pernod, she had rehearsed a heartfelt apology as she lay awake until the early hours, but in the harshness of sober daylight, she wondered if she could pull it off and if it was even appropriate. “I’m not going to explain to you how I came to the conclusion that kissing you was the right thing to do. I don’t think you’d understand. But I do want you to know my feelings were genuine and in no way disrespectful.” She delivered the abridged version.

  It was impossible to read Anna’s expression until a smile crept through the facade, followed by a serious stare. “I’m sorry I likened you to a pedophile. I know what I said was wrong, and like you, it wasn’t my intention to offend or insult.”

  Flic breathed a visible sigh of relief. “So we’re okay?”

  Anna nodded. “Can we try again this evening? Dinner? My shout.”

  Flic was sure she’d blown it. An invitation to start over was the last thing she expected, and she wasn’t one to pass up a second chance. It was on the tip of her tongue to say “God, yes please,” but instead she grinned and said, “Dee always shouts.”

  Anna smiled broadly. “I know. Makes it all the more fun, surely? Oh, and we’ll need to leave fifteen minutes early for the signing this afternoon.”

  Flic struggled to keep up with the switch in conversation.

  “Sure. No problem. Everything okay?” She was suddenly anxious. “Is there a problem with the venue or route or something?”

  “No, all that’s in Max’s safe hands. We need to leave early because I have to stop at a church on the way and confess my sins from last night.”

  Flic’s anxiety grew into guilt. “I’m terribly sorry.” She had no idea there would be repercussions beyond their respective hurt feelings. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Anna doubled over. “You’re terribly gullible. The look on your face is priceless.”

  Flic held her chest. “Phew. For a second there, I thought you were serious.”

  “For a second there, I thought you were going to offer to come with me.”

  “Do you ever go to confession?”

  “Only when I break the law.”

  “What?”

  “I’m kidding.”

  Flic’s heart raced a little. Where had this playful and amusing Anna been for the past month?

  Curiosity won over. “I know your faith is important to you, and has been your entire life, but can I ask how that developed?” Flic’s tone suggested caution; sometimes tragedy inspired faith.

  Anna patted the seat next to her and Flic obliged. “It’s no big deal really. Both my parents were in the air force and we moved a hell of a lot. We lived in Ireland when I was very small, and I went to Sunday school with my friends. My childhood was filled with inconsistencies, and I stumbled upon the reality that there’s nearly always a church in every town. It became the one thing that was consistent in my life.”

  “That’s why you’re Catholic?”

  “Yep. When we moved to England, I was older, and was happy to attend the local church, but I always felt more of an affinity with the Catholic faith. It was where I felt the safest as a child.”

  Anna was one contradiction after another. Artistic, creative, and ambitious in one sense, but ordered and led by faith in another. The more infuriating she became, the more Flic wanted to know her, unravel her, and chip away at her defenses.

  “You don’t get it at all do you?” Anna was watching Flic mull it all over.

  “Nope. But I respect your beliefs and your choices.”

  “Yes.” Anna contemplated. “I think I’m learning to do the same.”

  *

  For the first time, Flic experienced the authentic buzz of illustriousness. As elaborate and impressive as many of the buildings in Paris were, Un Monde de Livres—A World of Books—was a remarkable sight. The store was fitted with tall, foreboding hardwood bookshelves, industrial styled timber, and metal furniture and fixtures, coupled with renaissance tapestries and warm, exposed bulb lighting.

  Her appearance had been a success. There was something refreshing about the French’s liberal views. They’d been a vocal yet embracing crowd.

  Anna had linked a finger through a belt loop at the back of Flic’s jeans. At the top of the stairs, she drew her close. “You look every bit the celebrity.”

  Flic glanced at Anna and then at the crowd below her. For the first time, she felt like a celebrity.

  Max rested an arm on her lower back. “A few autographs, but don’t linger.”

  She nodded her understanding, and together they descended the stairs as she signed autographs. Max and Anna flanked her, and she easily relaxed into publicity mode.

  Outside, the largest crowd to date greeted her. The police presence was enormous, and Max had enlisted the services of a driver so he could accompany Flic personally. Police efficiently cordoned off the massive black Hummer, and her walk from the store’s front doors to the car was about thirty meters.

  The scene altered with proportionately more protestors than had entered the building. There was little use heckling her during the reading;
the police efficiently removed anyone who caused a nuisance, but outside was a different story. She remained unnerved by the insults. She was riding high. After all, everyone had the right to protest, right?

  The passion and enthusiasm the French conveyed was unlike anything she’d ever experienced. She was British, after all, and their reputation for a stiff upper lip was hardly unfounded.

  With the crowds securely behind barriers on either side of her exit, she truly felt like a celebrity. Like a sponge, she soaked in the atmosphere and adoration. She looked perfect in a French cuffed white shirt, black pinstripe blazer, and figure hugging designer denim jeans. The newspapers and magazines had begun comparing her style to that of the television star Ellen, and today, sporting glamorous sunglasses, she looked every bit the part.

  “This is amazing.”

  Anna was only a step behind her, head down to avoid photographers. “I couldn’t have written a better script.”

  One sign read: The voice of global gay rights: Felicity Bastone. Of course the book had gone global from day one, but Felicity had no idea she was being looked upon to lead a global movement. The thought both excited and terrified her.

  A reporter yelled from behind the barricade. “One quote, Miss Bastone. Please give us one quote.”

  So as to avoid any moments of unpredictability, Dee had prohibited all media interaction unless it could be controlled. The last thing they needed was Flic becoming embroiled in a debate on the street, in front of cameras and in front of the world. It was imperative she remained positive and in no way incited violence or provoked the public in such an open forum.

  The one quote the reporter requested seemed obvious to her. Filled with adrenaline and emotion, she held her arms out, spun around soaking in the crowd, and simply said, “Love is love.”

  The crowd clapped and cheered as if she’d just promised to buy them all dinner. Momentum grew and a “Love is love” chant erupted from her followers. Her opposers remained silent.

  Flic hoped to God someone was recording this scene because she knew that while she would hardly forget it, she wanted to be able to relive the moment later. Nearing the car, the chant increased in volume. This was no longer about book sales. She already knew she would live a comfortable life from the proceeds. This was about a far greater beast, and she was ready and willing to lead a revolution that could potentially change the world.

  As she approached the sparkling black Hummer, she turned to wave one last time. Anna had already entered the vehicle and was waiting for Flic to join her with a beaming smile. Desperate to see and be seen by the majority of people, she stepped onto the doorframe and turned to wave to her adoring fans. Max attempted to persuade her into the vehicle, but she ignored his suggestions, preferring to prolong her moment of fame.

  In bright contrast to the crisp whiteness of the shirt beneath her blazer, the perfectly circular red dot of a laser sight—no bigger than a five-pence piece—that danced back and forth in the center of her chest took only milliseconds to register.

  Max was the first to respond, but the loud cracking of a gunshot drowned out his words. “Get down,” he yelled. Flic could barely hear him and only understood when he lunged toward her.

  In painful slow motion, Max launched himself, his arms extending to circle her waist while his shoulder connected with her stomach. Initially, his force was solid, but reasonable under the circumstances, until his forward motion became fierce and violent.

  Frightened, Flic largely resisted the backward motion as her body turned rigid with tension and terror. Unable to oppose Max’s momentum, she scraped her back and belted her head on the roof of the car before her body buckled under the movement.

  The back of her head crashed down hard on Anna’s leg, but there was little time to register that pain as Max landed heavily on top of her. The vehicle lurched into action, and although she wanted to scream at the driver to stop because the door wasn’t shut, it felt like there was no air in her lungs to push the words out.

  Frantically, Max crawled on top of her, reaching for the headrest and holding on as the vehicle sped away, cornering hard in the process. It occurred to Flic that the reason Max collided with her so hard was because the bullet hit him, propelling him forward. She freed her arms and began feeling the length of his back, wanting desperately to provide something to assist in stemming the blood flow while he heroically protected her. Instead of feeling his body under his jacket, she felt something hard and smooth. A wave of nauseous relief rippled through her as she realized he was wearing a Kevlar vest. The feeling was so intense tears streamed down her face.

  The sense of respite was short-lived, however, when the back window was shattered. This time Anna screamed and bent forward, covering, with her upper body, the exposed parts of Flic Max couldn’t reach.

  Lurching back and forth in the back of the car, the rear door flailing open, continually bouncing off Max’s legs, the three of them endured the chaos until the Hummer finally came to a halt.

  Anna sat back first, taking stock, and began screaming, “She’s been shot. Please, someone help.”

  Flic’s heart sank. She hadn’t realized. I’ve been shot?

  Flic honestly thought she’d survived unscathed. It must have been the shock overtaking her senses because she couldn’t feel any pain other than the bump on her head, which was thoroughly throbbing.

  Anna held aloft a hand soaked in blood. “Oh, God, please no. Don’t die, Flic, please.”

  I’m going to die? Flic wasn’t prepared to hear that information, and panic gripped her. Unsure if her mind had begun playing tricks on her and the end was looming sooner than she anticipated, she began thrashing and screaming for Max to get off her. She hadn’t realized she’d been shot, let alone was dying, so she wasn’t even sure in reality if she was moving a muscle.

  “Call an ambulance,” screamed Anna, her voice reaching an unnerving high pitch. “She’s bleeding. Someone help.”

  “Already en route,” the driver announced.

  It all happened so quickly that while Anna was screaming, Max was moving to sit above Flic to assess any damage. Help arrived in a rush of sirens and yelling.

  Flic wished she knew where the hell the bullet had struck. It couldn’t have been her heart because she’d probably be dead already, and if it were a lung, she hoped the other one had enough capacity to continue to pump oxygen through her until they could repair any damage. She really wished she hadn’t been shot.

  “Where am I shot, Max?” Her voice was surprisingly strong.

  Without warning, the other rear door opened and Anna was dragged from beneath Flic by the police who quickly handed her over to paramedics. Anna disappeared from earshot almost immediately.

  Another wave of panic filled Flic when she realized that Anna had been taken away. Shot and possibly dying, Flic yearned for Anna to stay with her.

  “Max,” she screamed. “Tell me how bad it is, damn it.”

  A paramedic entered the vehicle. Without introduction or formality, her gloved hands touched Flic all over. Max was doing the same, and Flic was terrified about what they might find.

  “Please, just tell me how bad it is.”

  The paramedic scruffed Flic’s collar and pulled the shirt apart, sending buttons flying. Her eyes scanned Flic’s torso before she exhaled deeply and sat back on her haunches. Cradling the base of Flic’s skull, she fingered the back of her head before announcing, “Got it.”

  Got what? Flic wasn’t coping with the lack of communication. “Am I shot in the head?”

  Suddenly, Max was off her and another paramedic took his place. With excellent English, he spoke calmly to her. “We don’t think you’ve been shot, madam.”

  The news was such a relief, Flic began crying.

  “You have a deep laceration to your head.”

  Flic could have kissed the man delivering the good news, but if she wasn’t shot, then Max was. “Max,” she screamed.

  Max’s head filled the remainder
of the gap through the door. “I’m here, love.”

  “Are you shot?”

  He tapped the jacket across his chest. “Hit with a bullet, yes, but not shot.”

  “What?”

  “I’ve got a bulletproof vest on. Bullet hit me right in the middle of the back. Better me than you today, sweetheart.”

  Flic remembered feeling the vest. She felt relief beyond words.

  Max moved away and it was Anna’s face who filled the space. “Oh, thank God you’re not shot.”

  Flic smiled. It was all she could do to reassure Anna she was okay. “I smacked my head hard though, I think. Bloody hurts.”

  Anna briefly glanced down at Flic’s exposed torso. “I saw blood and thought you’d been shot.”

  “I think when Max tackled me into the car, my head clouted the roof, but it all happened so fast. What went wrong?”

  Anna shook her head. “No idea. The police aren’t saying much. Although, I’m not convinced they have much to say at this early stage.”

  All the bravado in the world wouldn’t have stopped Flic’s tears now. “Someone tried to kill me, Anna. Jesus Christ, I could be dead.”

  “I know, honey, but you’re fine, and the police are going to protect you for the time being.”

  “Don’t leave me?”

  “I won’t. I’m right here.” Anna reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I’m just so glad you’re okay.”

  Much discussion surrounded the police’s ability to secure their current location. It was too early for conclusive answers. In fact, they had little idea so soon after the event about what actually happened, so the decision was made to transport them all to a hospital. Hospitals had security cameras, and beyond having Flic stitched up and Max checked out, it would be a logical place to coordinate the next move. History suggested that the shooter, or shooters, would need to regroup in the aftermath of the failed assassination, so the threat, for the time being, had diminished.