“And soon after he returned to the United States,” the Ambassador continued. “The killings started. The crucifixions.”
All of this had been reported in the news, so no one seemed surprised.
“How did he almost kill you?” Chazon asked Jonas.
“I...I really don’t want to speak about that,” Jonas said. “That was a long time ago.”
“It is no coincidence, I think.” The Ambassador sat up in his chair and scratched at his beard. “Let me go back to my original questions. What does this man want? Who does he want? This man recreates the death of Jesus Christ, even down to the cave burial. And now here he is, at these Accords, which concern the holiest lands on the earth.”
The Senator could take no more. “Mr. Ambassador, with all due respect, I don’t think this man deserves averting our attention from the monumental task we have here at hand.”
“Respectfully, I disagree. Often distractions prove just the thing to be able to forge ahead.” The Israeli Ambassador spoke with the patronizing arrogance of a department store Santa Claus. “Fascinating,” he repeated. “It is all very fascinating. Do you realize the amount of physical strength and stamina it would require to crucify a person all by yourself?” His aide put down her fork. “I think perhaps the Senator’s right. Perhaps this is not proper conversation during a meal.”
The Ambassador huffed and leaned back into his plate. “As you wish,” he said.
Jonas looked over at his boss, whose face showed a modicum of relief.
Chazon leaned in close to Jonas, lowering his voice enough to keep the others from hearing. “It is true,” he said. “It seems more than coincidence this man is here now. At this time.”
“Don’t worry, Eli. You don’t have anything to worry about.”
Eli shook his head. “My friend, it is not me I am worried about.”
• • •
Jonas walked down the long corridor to his hotel room, loosening his tie as he thought how good it would feel to collapse on his bed. The sun was low in the sky, and diffused light filtered in through the window at the end of the hallway. The meetings were over for the day, but the negotiations went on, and Jonas had about thirty minutes before the late-afternoon and evening social events commenced. Just enough time to change clothes. Not enough time for anything else.
Still no word from Anne.
He opened the door to his room and the first thing he noticed was the piece of paper on the floor near his door. A note card, folded in half. Jonas poked his head back in the hallway and looked up and down the corridor.
No one.
He stepped inside his room and closed the door. He knew before picking it up who had left the note for him: Rudiger. No question.
Had he managed to leave the note before fleeing the hotel, or was he still close?
Jonas picked up the card and opened it. The writing was tight and careful. Controlled.
There was only one sentence.
Leave your cell phone on.
41
DENVER, COLORADO JULY 26
HIS BLACKBERRY screamed at him, waking him from the little sleep he’d been able to achieve. Jonas rolled over and lunged for the phone, hoping it was Anne. He wasn’t sure if he had ever fallen asleep—if he had, he’d had less than an hour’s worth, at most. Not talking to Anne, especially after seeing Rudiger, filled him with anxiety.
He could see the beginning of the day starting to seep around the edges of the hotel room curtains, but since his alarm hadn’t gone off Jonas knew it was earlier than six.
He stared at the small screen.
Unknown Number
It was either Anne calling from a secure line or it was
Rudiger, Jonas thought. Two extreme ends of the spectrum.
He sat up in bed and braced himself. “Hello?”
“Mr. Osbourne?” Male voice.
“Yes?”
“This is David Preiss. I’m with the FBI task force assigned to the Accords.”
You mean assigned to finding Rudiger, Jonas thought. He remembered Anne mentioning Preiss. Said he was an expert in world religion.
Jonas felt his muscles relax a little. It wasn’t Rudiger, but
goddamnit where was Anne? “Yes, David.”
“Sorry to wake you. I know it’s early, but...”
“But what, David?”
The slightest of pauses. “Is Anne with you?” Jonas felt his muscles stiffen again. “No. Why?”
“There...there are some people looking for her.”
“Who?”
Another pause. “Everyone.”
Jonas stood. “Are you telling me she’s MIA?”
“It appears so. She was last seen yesterday afternoon. She was working offsite but drove back to the Hyatt after the suspect was spotted. No one’s heard from her since. We were hoping she was with you.”
Jonas felt panic rising in his chest. “No. I haven’t been able to get a hold of her either.”
He has her. Holy Jesus. He has her.
Preiss’s voice didn’t register surprise. “Did she mention anything to you? Anything that could have made you think she was going to leave Denver?”
“No,” Jonas said, trying to recall their last conversation. She had warned him to be careful. “Can you GPS her cell phone?”
“We tried. Her phone must be off.” Shit.
Jonas walked to the window and parted the curtain. “David, listen to me. Trust me when I tell you I’m not prone to panic or overreaction.”
“Okay, Mr. Osbourne.”
“Rudiger has her.”
Jonas heard the man let out a weak sigh. “It’s not inconceivable,” Preiss said.
“You already thought that, didn’t you?”
“We checked all hospitals and accident reports in the last twelve hours. When nothing came up, well, yes, it occurred to us she could have been the victim of foul play.”
“So what are you doing about it?”
“We’re looking for her, Mr. Osbourne. Trust me when I tell you that. But it’s important we try to understand what he would want with her.”
Jonas felt anger rising through his body. “David, the man fucking crucifies people. He’s not looking for a bridge partner.”
“He’s not going to crucify her, Mr. Osbourne.”
“No?”
“No. She doesn’t fit his profile.”
“So what does he want?” Jonas looked down to the streets below. Wooden police barricades littered the blocks surrounding the hotel.
Jonas felt sick to his stomach.
“We think he wants you, Mr. Osbourne. If he has Anne, he can use her to get to you.”
Jonas crumpled up a wad of the thick curtain in his fist. Then, as he released it, he concentrated on breathing slowly.
“Mr. Osbourne?”
“I’m here.”
“It’s just a theory.”
“He asked me to leave my cell phone on,” Jonas said, exhaling.
“What?”
“There was a note under my door. That’s all it said on it.”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“I left another message for Anne. But no, no one else.”
“We need to meet.”
“Where?”
“We have a suite in the hotel. Room 407. Can you be there in an hour?”
“Of course. I...I need to tell Senator Sidams.”
“That’s another thing I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What?”
“Sidams.”
“What about him?”
“He could be a potential target.”
“The Senator?”
“Yes. And Ambassador William Stages.”
“Are you shitting me?”
“That’s not the kind of personality I have, Mr. Osbourne.”
“What makes you think that?”
“It’s not my theory, but it makes sense. Based on Rudiger’s patterns, we think he’s got something more elaborate in mind this time. H
e’s not a thrill seeker—he’s purpose-driven.” That’s pretty much what Anne had told him, Jonas thought.
“And he hasn’t found what he’s looking for yet,” Preiss continued. “We know he’s trying to recreate the crucifixion of Christ for some purpose, but what he hasn’t done is recreate the entirety of the scene.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning Christ wasn’t the only person crucified that day. There were two others. Common criminals.”
Jonas paced. “So let me get this straight,” he said. “You think Rudiger is going to crucify three people, and the Ambassador and the Senator are supposed to represent the criminals.”
“Yes.”
“Why them?”
“Mr. Osbourne, one of the things we’ve been doing is searching anagrams, because that’s how Rudiger’s mind operates. It’s one of the ways he gets his clues.”
Exactly as Anne had explained. “And?”
“And the two criminals, though never mentioned in the Bible, are generally attributed the names Dismas and Gestas. There are various spellings one can find for those names, but in the most common form, they are perfect anagrams for Sidams and Stages.”
Jonas let it sink in, but it seemed impossible.
“Do you know the probability of something like that?” Preiss asked. “It’s almost incalculable. That’s why we think they could be targets.”
“And I’m supposed to be the main event in all this?”
“Again, it’s a possibility.”
“Why? My name isn’t an anagram for Jesus.”
There was a lengthy pause on the other end. Jonas thought he heard a siren in the background.
“I know. We’re not sure. Similar names, though. Jonas and Jesus. Five letters, two syllables, two vowels, same beginning and ending letters. I know. It’s not perfect. But there’s more to your history with Rudiger to suggest you could be the...however you called it...main event.”
“What’s he going to do to Anne?”
“He’s going to use her to get you to cooperate. Listen, Mr. Osbourne, it’s probably best we talk in person. We need to meet with you, the Senator, and the Ambassador. I’ll leave it to you to get them to come in for a briefing. But we need to keep everyone’s safety the priority here. We’d like to do this without affecting the schedule of the Accords, but that will be up to all of you.”
“You can’t interrupt the Accords,” Jonas said.
“Then we need everyone’s cooperation. One hour, suite 407. The three of you, and anyone else you think needs to come. We won’t take long.”
“The Senator needs to be at the meetings stating at eight-thirty.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem.”
“You need to guarantee it.”
“I guarantee it.”
“Fine.” Jonas looked at the clock radio on the bedside table. Five thirty-five.
“And keep your phone on, Mr. Osbourne. We’ll start monitoring it in case Rudiger calls.”
Preiss hung up and Jonas stood in the hazy morning light, wondering where he would be standing at the end of the day.
If he would be standing at all.
42
HIS SHOWER lasted less than five minutes, but the powerful jet of near scalding water was exactly what Jonas needed for his mind to focus. Or refocus.
Shave. Dress. Call the Senator. Senator calls Stages. We all go to the suite, then the FBI tells us what to do next.
What happens if Rudiger calls in the next hour with different plans? Then what do I do? I don’t even have Preiss’s number if I need to change the plan.
But Preiss said they’re monitoring my phone, so they’ll know if he calls.
Is Anne hurt? Would Rudiger hurt her before he gets what he needs? Will he hurt her after?
Jonas jumped out of the shower, dried, and threw on his suit. It took him less than a minute to shave and he was ready to go. He still had nearly forty-five minutes before the meet time. He grabbed his BlackBerry to call the Senator.
The screen glared at him.
One missed call.
Jonas cursed. It must have been when he was in the shower.
No messages. He checked the call log.
Anne Deneuve
Jonas stared at the phone in his hand like it was an alien artifact. Is this real, he thought. Did Anne really call?
He immediately called back. He could feel bile creep up his throat when her voicemail greeted him.
“Anne, it’s me. Jesus, you just called. Where are you? I’m...I’m going out of my mind here. Listen, I’m meeting with—”
A thought stuck him. Was Anne with Rudiger? If she was, he was going to hear this message. He didn’t want to tell Rudiger too much.
“—well, never mind,” he said into the phone. “Just call me back immediately and let me know you’re okay.”
As soon as he hung up the phone rang again. In his haste to answer, Jonas almost hit the button to ignore the call.
Unknown number. Fuck!
“Hello.”
“Jonas, it’s David. We heard that call.”
“So you saw that Anne called?”
“We did. Her phone is off again. But we were able to track it within a city block.”
“Where is she?”
Jonas heard papers rattling in the background, but no other voices.
“Jonas,” Preiss said, his voice low and steady. “We think she’s in the hotel.”
Jonas felt the need to sit down. “So...so she’s okay? He doesn’t have her?”
“We don’t know, Jonas.”
“Has her room been searched?”
“Yes, she’s not there. Jonas, you need to come sooner. This hotel is going to be swarming soon, and it’s going to affect the Accords. There needs to be a change of venue.”
“Impossible,” Jonas breathed.
“Jonas, call the Senator and get everyone here immediately. It has to happen now. We don’t have any time to lose here, do you understand me?”
The reply was a reflex. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” The call disconnected. Jonas dialed the Senator.
He got voicemail. Jonas cursed, hung up, and dialed again.
Sidams answered on the fourth ring.
“What is it, son?” The Senator’s voice was gravelly with sleep but his tone was serious. Both men knew Jonas wouldn’t wake his boss for an unimportant matter.
Jonas gave him the highlights in less than a minute, as professionally as any solider ordered to provide a concise sit rep.
Sidams was silent for a long period.
“Give me fifteen, then come up to my room.” He hung up.
Jonas spent the next fifteen minutes sitting on the corner of his bed, feeling as useless as a dead man on a battlefield.
43
WHEN ROBERT Sidams opened his door, he was as polished looking as if he’d had two hours to get ready. The lights were still dark in the room and Jonas knew the Senator’s wife, Patricia, was probably still sleeping.
Sidams stepped into the corridor and closed the door behind him.
“What did you tell her?” Jonas asked.
“She didn’t even hear me get up. If she wakes up before
I get back, she’ll call me.”
Good, Jonas thought. No need to worry her prematurely. Sidams walked toward the elevator and Jonas followed. “Morning, Brian.” Sidams nodded to the security agent in the blue blazer standing next to the elevator. “Good morning, Senator. Early for you, isn’t it?”
Sidams nodded and smiled. “That’s an understatement.”
“Need a detail?” Brian raised his radio.
Sidams put a hand up. “I’m meeting with a bunch of Feds in the hotel. I don’t think I need a security detail.”
“Hope everything goes well today,” Brian said. “Me too, son. Me too.”
Jonas and Sidams stepped into the elevator, and Jonas marveled at his boss’s coolness.
“Did you get a hold of the Ambassador?” Jonas asked. �
�No need,” Sidams said.
Jonas looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“I mean let’s see what our friends want to tell us before we start getting everyone in the world involved with this.” Sidams checked the cuffs on his shirt, pulling them down a fraction more.
“Preiss was pretty insistent.”
“Well, Jonas, I can’t say I know who David Preiss is, but he sure as hell knows who I am. That makes me the one calling the shots here. So until he earns my trust and confidence, I’m not in the mood to start taking orders.” He looked at his watch. “Christ on a Ferris wheel, it barely past six o’clock.”
“You don’t seemed concerned.” Sidams shrugged.
“You don’t think this is a real threat?” Jonas asked. “Might be. Might not be. Don’t have enough information to tell. Until I do, no real use fretting about it, is there?” The elevator slowed as it reached the fourth floor. “I agree,” Jonas said. “But I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t worried sick about Anne.”
Sidams looked over at him and his face softened for the first time during the conversation. “I know you are, son.
Let’s just talk to these boys and see what they want us to do.”
He didn’t say Anne will be fine. The Senator didn’t like making promises he couldn’t keep.
The elevator doors opened and the men took a left toward room 407. Thick corridor carpet muffled their footsteps, and the faint smell of room-service leftovers wafted from a collection of trays left outside of guest room doors. Copies of USA Today papers lay like doormats in front of nearly every door.
The two men walked nearly the length of the entire corridor before reaching their destination.
There was no paper in front of 407.
Jonas could hear the sound of the television bleeding through the door. A news program. What he didn’t hear was a team of FBI agents discussing an action plan.
The Senator cleared his throat and knocked on the door. “Hope this is fast,” he muttered. “I’ve got enough horseshit to do today.”
Jonas took a step back from the door and looked at the rooms to the left and the right. They were spaced evenly apart, as were the ones directly behind him on the other side of the corridor. If 407 was a suite, it certainly didn’t seem any wider than any of the other rooms. Unless all the rooms on this floor were suites.
Final Crossing: A Novel of Suspense Page 21
