Lauren brushed strands of hair from her face. “I did what I had to do.”
“Anyone else from the Order know about your tunnel—”
“Maybe that’s the hole in the fence,” Oliver interrupted.
“What hole?” Lauren asked.
Marge explained the phone call.
“I didn’t dig out midway between any fence. I came out way beyond the fence, in the middle of the wooded area behind the compound. I would never have dug in the open. Way too vulnerable. Reuben and I talked about it before I went in. He said to dig out in the mountain brush where there was plenty of cover. I don’t know what hole your caller’s talking about.”
“You think the call is a trap?” McCarry inquired.
“Depends who called. If it was Terra, no, it’s not a trap. She’s terrified of Bob.”
Decker nodded. “If you met up with her again, you’d think she’d be on your side?”
“Well, she’s terrified of Bob. But she’s also terrified of defying him.”
“If Venus had made the call, would it be a trap?”
“I don’t know. I will say that she has a lot invested in the Order, so I don’t see her trying to bring it down. Venus also commands respect. You don’t mess with her. People have tried and things have happened to them.”
“What things?” McCarry asked. “Don’t tell me she’s a serial killer.”
Lauren was pensive. “Like I said, I never saw anything. But her enemies, like the enemies of Bob and Pluto, had this way of disappearing.”
“Talk about declining populations,” Marge said. “It’s a wonder the Order didn’t murder itself out of existence. It’s unbelievable!”
“Not at all,” Lauren said. “When there are no absolutes and people make up the rules, anything is fair game.” A pause. “I’m not a big one for organized religion. But God has its good points. If the Ten Commandments were given by the Ultimate Creator, then those rules have to be immutable. And that’s not bad. Because when human beings change the norms, they always fuck things up.”
McCarry snapped her out of her musings. “Tell me more about this tunnel.”
She told them all she knew. How she chose her spot—in the teens’ classroom. Because the gurus weren’t the least bit concerned with the kids. And the classrooms were always empty at night. She’d sneak off and dig. She’d time her digging with the cries from the infant nursery next door. Every night, she’d scratch away. She was lucky. Out here, in the valley, the soil was loose. Not like the clay soil that held up most of the city of L.A.
“We should contact SWAT,” McCarry said. “I’d play it like this. We lead the Order into thinking that we’re looking for an imaginary hole—”
“It may be real,” Lauren said. “Maybe someone else was trying to dig out. I’m just saying it isn’t part of my tunnel. Its location doesn’t even sound like one of my red herrings.”
“Red herrings?” Decker asked.
“I dug some fake holes outside. Also Reuben’s idea. In case I’d make an escape and get discovered midway, my pursuers wouldn’t know which hole was real and which one was a dead-end. I dug two fake tunnels while I was at the Order. They don’t lead anywhere. One goes about twenty feet and dies, the other’s about forty.”
Decker was flabbergasted. “Can I harness your ingenuity and market it?”
“I was trying to save my life…Lyra’s, too. Incredible how creative you become.”
McCarry said, “If we look for this imaginary hole in the fence midway between somewhere, we can draw Bob into thinking we’ve fallen for his trap. In the meantime, SWAT will tunnel—”
“Uh, there’s a problem with a raid,” Lauren said. “My tunnel was barely big enough for me. It’s all belly-crawling. Can’t lift your head more than six inches off the ground. At some points, I really had to contort to make it through. You’ll never get your regular men through there. A small man would even be doubtful.”
“What about my size?” Marge asked.
“Maybe—”
“We’ll do the raid with women,” Marge said. “I’ll lead.”
“You’re not familiar with the pathway,” Lauren said. “The turns are tricky. If any part of the tunnel has collapsed, you’ll be lost.”
“I’ll risk it!” Marge said.
Decker looked at her. “Margie, that’s insane.”
She ignored him. “It’ll have to be done at night.”
“Night, day, it doesn’t matter,” Lauren answered. “Tunnel is as dark as jet fuel. Slimy, too.”
“I was thinking of dark as coverage in the mountains—”
“Ah,” Lauren said. “Good point!”
“We’ll need miner’s caps for starts,” Marge said. “Protective gear, equipment, gloves, masks. Don’t want to pick up any lethal virus nesting in the soil.”
“A lightweight oxygen tank may be helpful,” Lauren said. “Just in case.”
“You’re not worried about gases igniting.”
“It’s not that far down.”
“How far?”
“Six feet maybe.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Decker said. “Forget it!”
“What do you mean, forget it!” Marge was outraged. “It’s okay for men to raid and risk their lives, but when it comes to meek women—”
“I’d forbid anyone under my command,” Decker said. “Marge, for chrissakes, you’re a homicide cop, not Indiana Jones!”
“She made it out!”
“She had two years for test runs. Besides, the Order wasn’t looking for a raid when she broke out!”
“Pete, they’re not going to be looking for a raid coming up from a tunnel—”
“They’ll be looking for a raid in any way, shape or form. Through the doors, through the ceilings, under the floors. They’re going to be scrutinizing everything!” He threw up his hands. “If this is going to be done, at least let SWAT handle it—”
“I’ve got a major advantage over SWAT.” Marge poked her chest. “I’ve been inside the Order.”
Oliver said, “Marge, to use the advantage, first you’ve got to get inside.”
“I can do it—”
“She just said you’re too big!” Decker insisted.
“Maybe not,” Lauren backtracked.
Marge turned to her. “Are you willing to go back in?”
“Yes.” She nodded fiercely. “I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t give it my best shot.” She looked at Decker. “Loo or Pete or Decker or whatever your name is, if she’s willing to go in, so am I. You need me. I’m your only hope.”
McCarry said, “You’ll need professionals with you.”
“Then no more than three people,” Lauren said. “I’ve loosely calculated the oxygen level for the given area. The tunnel can support around three sets of lungs without trouble.”
“We’ll take supplemental oxygen canisters,” Marge said. “So I’m one, and Lauren’s two. We’ll take one more.” She turned to Decker, “Who’s our best on SWAT?”
“Probably Sharon Jacobs.”
“Is she here?”
“I don’t know!” Decker was agitated. “This is sheer suicide!”
Marge said, “Pete, I keep hearing the voice of that kid I interviewed—”
“Who?” Lauren asked.
“Vega—”
“Oh, she’s wonderful! Brilliant, too.”
“I’m going and that’s it!” Marge turned to Decker with a determined look on her face. He had seen it too many times in the past. It said, “I hear you, I’m disregarding you.”
McCarry said, “Special Agent Elise Stone has been with SWAT for ten years. I know she’s here. Been here since the beginning.”
“We’ll take her,” Marge said. “Lauren’ll lead, then I’ll go, Elise Stone’ll bring up the rear.” She looked upward. The sun was stronger now. The harsh light made her eyes burn. “We’ve got about twelve hours to concoct some kind of workable plan. We’d better light a fire.” She threw her arm aro
und Lauren. “C’mon. Let’s go save some kids.”
31
Reuben Asnikov was brought down to identify Lauren Bolt: to verify that she wasn’t a plant from the Order. He did the identification with glee, not only feeling vindicated by her appearance but relieved and grateful, stating that perhaps maybe the kids had a glimmer of a chance.
The children. The foremost consideration—the drooling infants with bald heads and lopsided smiles; the toddlers with wet thumbs, teetering gaits and curious eyes; the preschoolers learning how to count while pushing rubber blocks through shape-sorters; school-age children with missing front teeth, bright eyes and gangly limbs; the giggling preteens on the verge of puberty; teenagers carving their way into adulthood.
Decker wondered if any of them would ever reach their majority.
After Bolt and the deprogrammer gave their respective affidavits, Lauren was led to a trailer to rest while indemnity papers were drawn up. The legal phraseology alone would take hours, the lawyerspeak needing to be exact. She’d have to acknowledge the dangers—disclosed and undisclosed—in the operation. She’d be required to sign a stack of papers, waiving her rights to sue the city or any individuals associated with the raid should she undergo any sort of harm—either physical or mental, be it loss of limb or life. Decker kept hoping Bolt would get cold feet. But as time passed she became more resolute, determined to rescue her kids.
Asnikov was free to go, but he had elected to stay on. He wore a white button-down shirt, most of it covered by a gray cable-knit sweater, and black pants. On his feet were black socks and rubber-soled shoes. Staring at the compound, he chewed gum, snapping it loudly. Even so, his jaw muscles were working much harder than necessary.
The deprogrammer said, “Lauren’s a great girl, but she’s foolhardy.”
“The impetuous nature of youth,” Decker said. “We old farts take meetings, she just goes in and does it.”
“I never thought she’d make it.” Asnikov’s eyes were directed forward. “It ate at me…her being there and my inability to help her. In the beginning, we talked about implanting communication devices on her body. In the end, she decided against it. She was completely on her own.”
“She never tried to get hold of you?”
“The parishioners don’t have access to phones. And even if she could have pilfered one, it would have been too dangerous to call. They monitor everything.” He looked at Decker. “I told her not to do it. But I’m glad she did. She succeeded where I had failed.”
“She was lucky,” Decker said. “But this time is different. They’re going to be looking for infiltrators. It’s one thing to escape the compound, another to raid and liberate it.”
“Agreed,” Asnikov said. “Why don’t you stop her?”
Decker clenched his jaw. “If I had known she was going to pull a stunt like this, I would have had her arrested in the beginning. Now, it’s out of my hands.”
Asnikov’s expression remained flat. “You’re against the raid?”
In its present form, Decker was very much against the raid. But he didn’t comment.
Asnikov said, “Lauren once told me she was part cat. That’s why she moves so quietly. Hope she’s right because she could use nine lives.” He shook his head. “Three of us versus one hundred plus of them. Some odds. All we have is the element of surprise.” He smiled. “Lauren saved you the bother of subpoenaing my files.”
“Saved you the bother of us sorting through your cases,” Decker said.
“It wouldn’t have mattered to me. Sure I have office files. But most of the important info is filed up here.” He pointed to his temple. “When are they planning to go in?”
Decker said, “I don’t know.”
“You’re being sly.”
“No, I’m not. I don’t have an ounce of guile in me at the moment. Too damn tired.”
Asnikov nodded with understanding. He said, “In a way, I’m jealous of Lauren. Wish it were me going in.”
“Hero’s complex, Asnikov?”
“Bet your ass. Every time I free up a human soul, I feel real good about it. Sure beats that sick and helpless feeling you get when the camera pans across your dead sister. This should be sweet revenge if you can pull it off.” He tightened his jaw and the muscle swelled. “I’d give anything to liberate that concentration camp!”
The comparison wasn’t exactly parallel. But it wasn’t far off the mark. A maniacal leader with three murdering henchmen, and a pedophile as the resident doctor. Just multiply the numbers and it could have been the SS.
Sweet revenge if you can pull this off, Decker thought. A big if.
He looked at Asnikov, whose eyes were far-off stars in a distant galaxy. His posture was rigid, his face had gone hard. His jaw was chomping hard and loud, but there was no sound of snapping gum. Instead, it had been replaced with the rasping noise of enamel gnashing against enamel.
Awakened by the harsh ring of the phone, Decker startled, then bolted up. Like a fireman called into action, he jump-started into immediate action. He looked at McCarry, then at the communications expert, Special Agent Jan Barak. She gave them a silent countdown on her fingers. Then with precise timing, Decker picked up the receiver.
Bob asked, “What’re you doing out there, Lieutenant?”
Without missing a beat, Decker answered, “Not much, Bob. What are you doing in there?”
“I just took a terrific nap. Feel better than ever. How about yourself?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine. You sound tired. They don’t give you much in the way of a break, do they?”
“I like doing my job, Bob. Protect and serve. That’s our motto.”
“Well said, Lieutenant Decker. Because we all have jobs to do. It’s cosmically ordained by the universe. Take a look at the planetary motion of our own solar system. Everything’s in perfect gravitational balance. Perfect orbits until some giant meteor or comet comes along and knocks everything off-kilter. Then there’s that old entropy again rearing its ugly head. Total chaos. You understand what I’m saying.”
“Keep the status quo. I’m with you, Brother.”
“No, I don’t think you are, Lieutenant.” A pause. “Well, maybe you are, but some of your workmen have other ideas. Because we’re noticing some movement out there…we can see you mapping out the perimeter of our home. From the front to the back…from our public entrances to our back doors in the brush of the mountains.”
“Sure it’s us? There are lots of creatures out there.”
“I’m not worried about the pumas. I’m talking about the two-legged creatures. For the dark, we’ve got infrared scopes on our rifles. You want to be sitting ducks, it’s up to you.”
“I hear you.”
“I’m still not sure that you do,” Bob insisted. “Tell them we’ve got weapons with fantastic ranges. I mean I just don’t get it, Decker. Why would any man volunteer to be target practice?”
Decker said, “I’ll find out what’s going on.”
“Lieutenant, I know what’s going on. Are they keeping you in the dark?”
“What do you want me to tell them?”
“Just what I’m telling you. I’m giving you fair warning, Decker. The most holy Order of the Rings of God considers anything that invades our personal space up for grabs. It doesn’t matter if you come in the front or back door, get my drift.”
“You hold the top cards, Bob. We’ve known that from the beginning.”
“So why are they fucking with me? Don’t they believe me? Do they need a demonstration?”
“No, Bob, that’s not necessary—”
“I’ll give them one if you hold on. Honey, come over here for a sec.”
“Bob, don’t—”
A deafening blast over the line. Decker dropped the phone and jumped back, holding his ears as cannons shot through in his brain and fireworks exploded through his optic nerve. Staggering on his feet while his heart drummed against his sternum. Someone touchin
g him.
He whirled around, teetered, then tried to focus.
Jan Barak looking at him with worried eyes. She was talking to him, but he couldn’t hear a damn thing. McCarry, too. The agent was mouthing silent fucks.
A deep breath…trying to turn the head volume from multiforte to just plain forte. Eyes darting about, he spied the fallen phone and picked it up, gingerly placing it against his right ear as his head screamed in protest.
Into the receiver, he said, “Bob, are you there?” Silence. His own words had been miked with reverb, everything echoing inside his skull. “Bob?”
McCarry slapped his forehead. Barak appeared to be talking to him. Decker ignored them and tried again. “Bob, are you with me, guy?”
No response. Then McCarry’s voice, though hushed, became suddenly audible. “…line’s dead.”
“Oh.” Decker hung up. “Man, that smarted.”
McCarry was still talking, “…to a doctor—”
“I’m fine—”
“Decker—”
“I can hear you, can’t I?” He knew he was shouting by the feeling in his throat. Certainly not by the sound of his voice. To his own ears, he sounded muffled. For the most part he could hear, although McCarry sounded as if he were speaking inside a belfrey. “Give me a few minutes, I’ll be fine—”
“Decker, don’t be an ass, you’ve got…”
But his words were fading out. The agent ended his speech by mouthing the word bastard.
Decker felt an upsurge in his gut, the world spun about him. He sat back in his chair, threw his head between his knees. Barak came over, touched his shoulder. He let her hand remain there for a moment, then he sat back up, his eyes landing on one of the van’s perimeter monitors.
“Look!” He pointed upward.
All eyes followed.
The Order’s front door had opened just wide enough to eject the body. It arced upward, then landed ten feet from the entrance, lying like a broken marionette with tangled strings. A frail frame in a long dress. Probably a woman even though its entire head was wrapped up in several towels. Very wet towels soaking up copious amounts of blood. Decker could discern that the cloth was saturated even though the monitor was black-and-white.
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