The Last Paladin

by Ward Wagher

“What? Rollout the team. They should not have let him out of their sight.”

  Carper hit the button on her console and spoke into her audio pickup. “Paladin on the move. In elevator seven and heading towards floor two hundred. Track, localize and report.”

  Jones opened the gun safe and pulled out a rifle. He left the room at a run. Carper looked wildly around the room. One of the guards was at the desk and looked confused.

  “Smitty, cover the board!”

  “Right, Carper.”

  Lesa ran to the gun safe and pulled out her rifle and pistol and ran from the room. Jones had already reached the elevator and was hurtling upward. Lesa slid to a stop at the next elevator and punched the call button. The door opened immediately.

  “Thank goodness for small favors,” she muttered as she entered the elevator cab. Even the speediest of the modern counter-grav elevators took time to reach the top floor of one of Chicago’s megaliths. She paced back and forth as the numbers on the screen spun by.

  A group of the guards stood by the stairwell to the roof when she launched out of the elevator.

  “Make a hole,” she shouted.

  She made it three or four steps up and was stopped by the group of guards. Nobody was moving.

  “What’s going on?” she shouted.

  “Door at the top is blocked from the outside?”

  “Oh, for…”

  She spun around and ran back to the hallway. She pulled out her comm.

  “I need an aircar at the fortieth-floor pad.” She looked around. “Where is the chief?”

  “Here Lesa,” he said stepping out of the stairwell. “You and you,” he said, pointing to two of the guards, “come with us. To the fortieth, Lesa.”

  The wind was glorious. It swept around the roof of Wilton House with a low moan. It felt to RWB like fingers ruffling his hair and clothes. The clouds climbed into the stratosphere and blocked the light of the setting sun. A constant flash of lightning played around the edges of the airborne canyons and the mutterings of the thunder presaged a storm unusual in its fury.

  This was going to be a great storm. Most North American thunderstorms were majestic as they rolled in from where thy gestated over the great plains during the daytime hours. RWB thought this one would be exceptional. He walked over to the parapet and leaned against it, feeling the wind in his face. This was even better than in his observation lounge.

  A thick fork of lightning whickered down in the distance. The solid boom echoed around the canyons of the city twelve seconds later. Scout could never understand why he enjoyed watching the weather. She was incurious about it, which often surprised him about someone who was otherwise so intellectually stimulating. And they would never have another chance to argue about it.

  The next lightning strike was at the edge of the city and was quickly followed by the roar of thunder. A heavy gust brought a wall of rain, which hammered the walls of the building and soaked him. And he thought it was exciting. If he had to die, he thought, this would be a great time. His last experience would be the most wondrous. To be one with the storm.

  As the thought seized him, he climbed the parapet and swung his legs over. Looking down, he could see only partway through the two-hundred stories of Wilton House. He considered the storm and his position. If he slipped off the edge, he could ride the storm through to the ground. He considered the possibilities and thought it might be interesting.

  His comm buzzed. Why was someone trying to bother him now? He thumbed it off and held it in his hand as he stared down. The gathering darkness below was strangely attractive. It would solve a lot of people’s problems if he just slipped off the edge of the parapet. His comm buzzed again. He looked down at it in annoyance. He had turned it off and yet it yammered at him. He could not stop it. He considered throwing it over the edge and then was curious. He thumbed the accept.

  “What?”

  “RWB, we need to talk,” came the disembodied voice.

  “Who is this?” he shouted.

  “I am a friend. Please move back from the edge. It is dangerous.”

  He was surprised he could hear the comm so well despite the continuous thunder, the rain, and howling wind.

  “I like it here.”

  “I worry you will do something rash. Please move back.”

  “What do you want.”

  “It is time to solve the problem of the terrorist attacks finally.”

  “What are you saying?” he yelled.

  “I have discovered the thread that will unravel the entire plot. There is a conspiracy against you, and I am bound to protect you.”

  “Come on, whoever you are. I do not even know who you are.”

  “Please, move back from the edge. If the wind backs around, it will blow you over the edge.”

  “Would that be so very bad?” he asked.

  “It would be tragic. You have a duty and a calling for the Palatinate. You have unique skills.”

  “And I do not know who you are.”

  “Please move back, Sir. You are at great risk.”

  At that moment there was indeed a gust from the other direction. RWB felt himself sliding over the edge. His phone went spinning into the air. He felt a moment of terror. He really was going to die. What was he thinking? And now, it was too late. He knew that he had been a fool.

  A pair of arms swung around him, and dragged him back from the edge. He rolled on to the fabric of the rooftop behind the parapet and looked up at Lesa Carper.

  “Boss, what in the world were you doing up there. You could have been killed.”

  Jones and two other guards were sprinting across the rooftop towards him.

  “Lesa, you have once again saved my life,” he yelled over the fury of the storm. “For I was starting to fall.”

  § § §

  “What were you doing out on the roof, anyway?” Chaim Lewis shouted.

  “I wanted to watch the storm. My usual spot for that is under repair. Remember?”

  Lewis stared at RWB. “You do realize that if the guard hadn’t caught you, you would be dead right now, right?”

  “Would that be such a bad thing, Chaim? What good am I doing here?”

  “Do not talk nonsense, son. You have done more for the Palatinate in the past few months than your father did during his whole life.”

  “You are not being very complimentary to Pop,” RWB responded.

  “I am being honest,” Lewis shouted again. “Listen, I know you are hurting about the girl. I understand. When Raisa died, I seriously thought about going up to the roof and throwing myself off.”

  “I was not actually doing that,” RWB said. “The wind blew me off.”

  Lewis cocked his head and gave the Paladin an old-fashioned look. RWB began to look uncomfortable.

  “Okay, I was thinking about it. But honestly, when I started to slide off, I realized that was not what I wanted to do.”

  “I really do not have time to argue about this tonight, RWB. I want to go to my apartment and go to bed.”

  “I am not stopping you, Chaim.”

  “I am giving orders to your security team that they watch you closely and work to prevent you from doing something stupid.”

  The Paladin looked disgusted. “I have been doing stupid things all my life. Why should I stop now? I do not want to be treated like a child.”

  “Then stop acting like one!”

  “I need a new comm.”

  “What happened to the old one?”

  “I lost it from the edge of the roof.”

  Lewis stood up. “I am beginning to understand why your father was always so frustrated with you. Comm me tomorrow from your office and I will get a new unit for you.”

  RWB didn’t answer and Chaim glared at him. Finally, he threw up his hands in frustrations and stalked out of the Paladin’s apartment.

  RWB looked around his living room and sighed deeply. He heard a trilling sound from his portable comp term, and he walked to the desk where it rested and wa
ved a hand over it to wake it up.

  “We did not finish our conversation,” came the voice from the comp term.

  “Whoever you are, it was almost finished permanently,” RWB replied. “You were right, the wind blew me off the ledge. One of the guards caught me before I went over.”

  “I would not like that if you had fallen. You are too important to the Palatinate.”

  The Paladin walked over to a chair by the window. The storm had blown out over Lake Michigan and he could see lightning playing over the water.

  “What is it about me that is so important, anyway? And why the mystery?”

  “You must trust me when I tell you that I am a friend. I am also a friend of the family. I represent a group that is dedicated to the protection of the Baughmans. Currently, you are the sole member of the family.”

  “Why did I not know about this?” RWB demanded.

  “Your father decided that you did not need to know about us?”

  He leaned back in the chair while holding on to the comp term. “This may surprise you, but there were a lot of things Pop did not tell me about. I sure am finding out about them now. And you said something about knowing the identity of the people who keep attacking me. And who are you, anyway?”

  “My name is Josiah. I am a friend. I hope to prove I can be trusted.”

  “Do you realize how many people demand my trust?”

  The voice laughed. It was a warm, friendly sort of laugh. “Notice that I did not say, Trust me. Sometime in the future, you will need to make that decision.”

  “Very well,” RWB said. He needed to think about this conversation.

  “Why were you on the top of the building during a severe storm?” Josiah asked.

  “I like to watch thunderstorms. I think they are marvelous. My observation suite is down for repairs.”

  Josiah seemed to ponder that. “I was concerned you might be thinking about committing suicide.”

  Now RWB pondered what Josiah said. “To be honest, I did consider it.”

  “It is difficult to lose someone close to you,” Josiah commented.

  “It hurts, Josiah. It really hurts. The last time I experienced pain like that was when mother died.”

  “I do not know how to offer comfort. I am sorry RWB.”

  The Paladin snorted. “At least you are honest about it. While we are being honest, let me tell you that when I was sitting on that ledge, I thought about how easy it would be to just slip off and fall into the storm. But, when I started to slip off, I realized that I really did not want to die.”

  It grew quiet in the room. Finally, RWB spoke again. “Are you still there?”

  “I am still here,” Josiah replied.

  “You said something about knowing the source of my problems.”

  “To be clear, I know the source of the attacks. I also know the source of your information leak.”

  “Who is it?”

  “This goes back to trust, again,” Josiah replied.

  “Quit playing the riddles, okay?”

  “You will not believe me when I tell you.”

  “Try me.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  RWB was back in his office the next morning. Because of his exhaustion the night before, he had slept well and was rested. He picked up the hand comm from his desk and studied it. One of the guards had recovered it from the roof of the esplanade beside Wilton House. It was none the worse after its 200-story fall. Although his cyber devices were protected by multiple security layers, he could pick up, literally, any comm on the planet and immediately put it to use. All his contacts were remembered and stored in the Globalnet and were immediately available.

  Nonetheless, RWB was pleased to have his comm unit back. It showed the patina of his use and it was like an old friend. Idly he thumbed through the call history and read an entry of a call from a Josiah on the previous evening. Odd that he had forgotten about it. He wondered how this Josiah had gotten his contact data, and how he knew so much about the Paladin. He stared at the entry on the comm screen and on impulse punched the button to recall.

  “Hello, RWB,” came the warm voice.

  RWB decided the voice was soothing in a melodious way. “You called me last night. I only just remembered.”

  “I believe you were under some stress at the time. I am delighted you suffered no ill effects on the roof of your building.”

  “I almost fell,” RWB blurted. “When I started to slip, I realized I had been a fool.”

  “I was concerned that you might have fallen.”

  “One of my guards pulled me back. She could not have cut it any closer.”

  “I am delighted you have survived.”

  “You said something last night about how the Palatinate needed me,” RWB said, changing the subject.

  “I did. You show much more competence than your father. Time are coming which will test the planet and the Palatinate. Your presence will preserve a way of life.”

  “How can you know that?”

  Josiah chuckled in a warm way. “I do not know that precisely. I am a student of history and pay attention to trends. The leadership across the planet has increasingly looked after itself, rather than the people. The Centaurans are becoming restive and may not be able to resist fishing in troubled waters.”

  “Fishing in troubled waters? RWB shook his head. “Where did you get that phrase. I do not believe I have heard it.”

  Josiah’s laugh was slightly disturbing. “A friend from years back loved these pungent phrases. Even though many people do not understand them or appreciate them, I am drawn to their powerful simplicity.”

  “They certainly are concise,” the Paladin observed. “But I do not understand how you can know this.”

  “I research and read carefully. And some things are easy to see.”

  RWB pondered things for a bit. “I suppose they are. But what is your angle? What are you trying to accomplish with these calls?”

  “I simply want you to succeed. I want to be a friend.”

  “Do you know the Bible?” RWB asked suddenly.

  “Do you know that your changes of subject are legendary?” Josiah chuckled. “To answer your question, yes, I am familiar with the Bible.”

  “Do you believe it?”

  “Yes. I am convinced it is a genuine document and the claims it makes are true.”

  “How can you know that?” RWB asked.

  “I have a lot of time to read and to think,” Josiah replied. “I have had the opportunity to trace the roots of the book. It is nearly as old as mankind.”

  “I had a lot of fun looking at it,” RWB commented. “It is a fascinating book.”

  “Do you believe it?” Josiah asked.

  “Are you asking if I think it is true? I suspect it is.”

  Josiah was quiet. RWB began tapping on his desk as he grew impatient.

  “Last night you said something about knowing my enemies.”

  Josiah immediately responded. “I have discovered some detailed information. The teams are dispatched by the Caliph in Baghdad. He has become offended with your lifestyle.”

  “What business is it of his?” RWB shouted. “Everyone seems bent on telling me how to live.”

  “He is no more moral than you,” Josiah stated, “but you are an infidel, so that is different.”

  “Can you prove he is the instigator?”

  “Not with something that would be accepted by a judge. But I believe I can convince you of that fact.”

  “That would not be difficult,” the Paladin said. “Most of us were convinced the Arabians were behind this, anyway.”

  “Perhaps I can help you fashion countermeasures against the incursions.”

  “How long have you known about the source of the trouble.”

  “For a long time,” Josiah said.

  “And you are only now deciding to help? Is that what friends do?”

  “I was not previously allowed to speak with you.”

  �
�Explain that, please,” RWB snapped. “This is getting irritating.”

  “Your father instructed me not to contact you until you faced a crisis in your life.”

  “My fa…” the Paladin jumped to his feet. “What is this? Pop spent his life trying to control me and now he is doing it from the grave. I really resent this, Josiah!”

  “I am very sorry, RWB, but your father demanded that I give my word that I would wait.”

  “How long did Pop know you?” the Paladin demanded.

  “All of his life.”

  The door slid open to Holden Palmer. “Paladin, I heard shouting. Is there anything you need?”

  RWB was on the verge of shouting at Palmer and somehow restrained himself. It was easy to yell at the little man. He took a deep breath.

  “No, Holden. I just become a little excited in a conversation. Thank you for checking. Now, leave me.”

  Palmer looked puzzled. He usually controlled all the communications in and out of the Paladin’s office and somehow RWB had engaged in a comm call without his knowledge. He was curious about how it happened and desired to know the substance of the conversation. He was determined to find out. But for now he left.

  With the door shut, RWB turned back to his hand comm. “I believe I am entitled to an explanation. You must be old.”

  “I am very old.”

  “You do not sound old.”

  “I believe you would suggest that I was well preserved.” There was a hint of a chuckle in Josiah’s voice.

  RWB looked out the window at the sunlight sparkling on the waves of Lake Michigan. The Chicago air began to waver in the heat and humidity of the midwestern summer. He tried to puzzle out the enigma that was Josiah.

  “Okay, Josiah. I believe you can see that you have my attention. Are there other teams out there that intend to attack me?”

  “There are five other teams on the North American continent,” Josiah explained. “One of them is in Indianapolis.”

  “And you can identify their location?”

  “I can.”

  As he thought about what Josiah told him, RWB picked at his teeth with his index finger. A piece of the breakfast sausage had wedged itself between a couple of teeth and it had been bothering him all morning. He was surprised that Arlen’s security forces had not been able to track the teams at all.