Both men seemed unnerved by the spymaster’s remark.
“Do you know why Mother Rachel attacked Sister Hannah?” Joshua persisted.
Enoch shook his head.
Lemuel shrugged. “Jealousy?”
“Jealousy,” Joshua repeated the word derisively. “Given the number of sister-wives she’s had over the years, why would she feel jealous at this late stage of her life?”
“Well, the diviner was really partial to Sister Hannah,” Enoch observed.
“I’ve never seen a man so taken with a woman before,” Lemuel added.
“Yes, taken,” Joshua agreed. “But not by love. By Satan.”
Lemuel gawked at him.
The spymaster noted the reaction and pursued his advantage. “What do we know about Sister Hannah, after all? She wasn’t born in our compound. She comes from Missouri—the daughter of a disgraced archwarden. Who’s to say she didn’t follow in her father’s rebellious footsteps? Perhaps she wanted revenge against the diviner for reassigning her whole family. Maybe she sold her soul to the devil in order to get it.”
“That’s a bit far-fetched,” Enoch objected.
“Is it?” Joshua challenged. “No one can deny that her hold over our prophet is unusual. I would go so far as to call it unnatural. When Father Abraham lost Sister Hannah, he lost his grip over the congregation. If he fails to lead us in the paths of righteousness, we will all be damned.”
Lemuel scratched his head. “These are serious accusations.”
“I’m not the only one who has seen the truth. Mother Rachel saw it too. That’s why she tried to kill Hannah. She knew that, through the diviner, Hannah was trying to destroy the brotherhood itself. I went to visit Mother Rachel in the asylum. She told me as much though nobody believed her, poor soul. She, too, heard Hannah speak.”
“So, you weren’t lying about that?” Enoch asked in surprise.
“Of course not! I took a voice recorder with me into that room. Then the next thing I knew, I felt an unseen hand slam me into a wall, knocking me unconscious. When I awoke, the recorder was missing. Tell me how a mere slip of a girl managed all that? There was nobody in that wing of the compound to assist her.”
“Maybe the devil helped her,” Lemuel concluded.
Joshua nodded gravely. “And I told my father as much. Sadly, our diviner has fallen so deeply under Hannah’s spell that he refuses to listen to the two people he trusted most. Mother Rachel is in an asylum, and I’ve been excommunicated. Our only crime is that we tried to avert disaster by making him see the truth.”
The two guards silently pondered the facts Joshua had laid before them.
The spymaster glanced out the window and realized that the Bronco was nearing the outskirts of the city. Although traffic had slowed, they were still proceeding at a rapid pace. He didn’t have much time left to save himself. He needed to raise the stakes.
“And now the diviner has hatched a mad scheme to take on the entire Fallen World. Tell me if that wasn’t inspired by the devil.”
Enoch and Lemuel traded skeptical glances.
“It’s the first we’ve heard of it,” the driver said.
“So, you haven’t heard the rumors about the secret lab?” Joshua challenged.
“You’re not saying that it’s real!” Lemuel exclaimed.
“Quite real. I’ve been there myself, in fact. It’s run by a foreign doctor who has created a terrible biological weapon. My father intends to unleash it on the Fallen World.”
“The Blessed Nephilim aren’t supposed to mix in the affairs of the Fallen,” Enoch protested. “We were commanded by our founder to live apart and keep ourselves pure until the Day of Judgment.”
“My father obviously has other plans for us.” Joshua gave a regretful sigh. “His obsession with Sister Hannah has deranged his thinking. If you follow where the diviner leads, the devil will surely drag us all down to hell, and the witch will have her revenge.”
“That can’t happen!” Lemuel’s voice held a note of panic.
The spymaster edged further forward in his seat. “It’s imperative that my father be stopped. The brotherhood must be restored to a state of grace.”
Enoch glanced at Lemuel. The latter nodded.
Without warning, the driver swerved into the right lane and took the next exit. Once off the expressway, he pulled over to the side of the road and switched off the engine. Then he turned to regard Joshua intently. “Tell us what you want us to do.”
The spymaster suppressed a triumphant smile. “Turn the car around and head back north. Everything will become clear to you shortly.”
Chapter 43—Forced Retirement
Leroy Hunt sat in the director’s office at the secret lab, his Stetson resting on his lap. He checked his wristwatch and drummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest of the sofa. He’d been cooling his heels for half an hour waiting for the doc to return. It had been a week since he overheard the whistlepig’s conversation with the big Russian. Time enough for the doctor to wrap up the last of his chores. All the water bottles had been delivered to the compound for distribution. Aboud had already told the preacher this would be his last day of service and his staff would take over from here. That meant the old man had no further use for the doc and Hunt had been given free rein to do what he did best.
The cowboy had never visited the inside of the lab before. It was easy enough to stroll through the front doors which surprised him. No security at all. Leroy figured that the place was buried so far out in the country that nobody would stumble across it unless they had business here. When he entered the underground complex, he contemplated going in search of Aboud. One look at the decontamination chamber reminded him what lay on the other side of those steel doors. The cowboy wisely decided to let the little doc come to him, so he made a beeline for Aboud’s office and took a seat. His wait came to an abrupt end when the door opened, and two men strode in.
“What’s up, doc,” Leroy said conversationally, making no effort to rise and greet the new arrivals.
Aboud looked stunned. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Leroy gave a lazy smile. “The boss sent me. Who’s your friend?”
A pencil-thin Indian man, even shorter than Aboud himself, stood at his side. Judging by the grey streaks in his hair, Leroy guessed him to be about fifty.
“My name is Maskeen.”
“Mr. Metcalf told me you’re the number two man.” The cowboy’s smile broadened. “Just the feller I was hopin’ to meet. Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.”
Maskeen glanced quizzically at Aboud for clarification.
“This man works for our benefactor,” Aboud explained. Directing his next words to Leroy, he asked, “What do you want?”
“Me?” the cowboy repeated innocently. “Nothin’. It’s the boss who wants somethin’. He wants to know why you been doin’ business behind his back. You and your buddy Vlad.”
All the color drained from the doctor’s swarthy complexion. “I don’t know anyone named Vlad.”
“Oh, sure you do, doc. Think hard. Big blond Russian feller. Shady arms dealer. Kinda famous too. Why, he even rated a red notice from them folks at Interpol.”
Aboud shook his head in wild denial.
“Don’t matter to me if you rat him out or not. I already had a heart-to-heart with him this mornin’.”
Aboud’s eyes widened in alarm. “You spoke to him?”
“I surely did.” Hunt stood up, hat in hand. “Went to deliver the same message I’m fixin’ to give you.” With his left hand, he moved the Stetson aside to reveal a pistol in his right hand. Without hesitation, he fired two shots straight into the doctor’s chest.
The look of stunned surprise never left Aboud’s face as he staggered backwards and dropped to the floor.
“Woo hoo!” Leroy let out a bloodcurdling yell of exultation. “There ain’t nothin’ beats a live target. Two in one day! My trigger fing
er is finally gettin’ a proper workout.”
Maskeen ducked down, covering his head. “Please don’t shoot me! I don’t know what any of this is about. I beg you, don’t shoot me!”
The cowboy eyed the cowering lab assistant dispassionately. “Mister, get on up. I ain’t got no quarrel with you.”
With trembling hands raised above his head, Maskeen rose.
“Like I said, I ain’t got no quarrel with you,” Leroy repeated. “Less, of course, you’re a double-dealer.” He raised the gun and aimed it at Maskeen’s head. “So, you tell me straight out. Are you a double-dealer?”
“A what?” the lab assistant quavered with rising hysteria.
“A double-dealer, old son. Somebody who takes money from the boss with one hand and sells him out with the other.”
Maskeen tried to form words but failed. All he could manage was a violent headshake.
“Course you ain’t. One look at that scared rabbit face tells me so. Put yer hands down.” Leroy replaced his gun in its shoulder holster. Then he put his hat back on his head. “Maskeen, is it?”
The man nodded shakily, lowering his arms.
“Congratulations, Maskeen. You just been promoted.” Leroy reached out and shook the man’s limp hand. “See, the boss needs somebody to run the operation while it’s windin’ down. I think you’re just the feller for the job. You know the ropes, don’t you?”
Maskeen gulped. “Yes,” he agreed faintly.
“Well, it’s like this. The preacher says he wants you to make enough vaccine for everybody. You think you can do that?”
Maskeen stared at him helplessly. “Everybody? I have no idea how many people that is.”
“Me neither,” the cowboy agreed ruefully. “I expect it’s a couple thousand but don’t quote me on that.”
A look of panic crossed Maskeen’s face.
“Now don’t you fret none. Here’s my advice. You get your people workin’ round the clock on that vaccine til the boss says ‘whoa.’ He’ll send one of his long-faced brood over here every couple days to pick up what you got. OK?”
Maskeen nodded dazedly.
Leroy clapped him on the back. “You play straight with the boss and do like he says. Otherwise, I might have to pay another visit, and you wouldn’t want that now, would you?”
“No!” the man exclaimed loudly. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
“I know you will. Do yer job right, and a month down the line you’ll leave this place for good with money in your pocket and no need to cross paths with me ever again.”
The new lab director relaxed slightly at the cowboy’s assurances.
Leroy glanced down at the body lying on the floor. “Before I go, we got to do somethin’ about this mess.”
Maskeen peered at him bleakly. “But what?”
“The boss tells me you got a nice hot oven in this place. Is that true?”
The director nodded doubtfully.
“Then here’s what you do. Round up a couple of yer boys. The kind who can keep their traps shut. Tell ‘em to bring a body bag. Then you zip up the trash and stick it in the oven. Easy-peasy.” The cowboy scowled at the floor. “Shame about the rug. A little stain remover and some elbow grease should get that right out for you.”
Maskeen stared at him open-mouthed.
“Well, I gotta saddle up and hit the dusty trail.” He tipped the brim of his hat and grinned. “Y’all have a nice day now, you hear?”
Chapter 44—Prophet and Loss
Erik busily flipped through the pile of papers strewn across Metcalf’s desk. On Maddie’s orders, he was making one final sweep of the diviner’s office for anything he’d overlooked earlier. The field team would soon be flying back from Sweden which meant it was almost time for the final showdown between the Nephilim and the Arkana. If they hoped to foil Metcalf’s plan for global destruction, any small detail might be critical to their success. The paladin swore under his breath. There was nothing here he hadn’t seen before. The chatelaine would have to make do with the intel he’d already given her. Erik hoped it would be enough. He was on the point of leaving when he heard a key scrape in the lock. He froze. It was two in the morning. Who could possibly be moving around this late? He dove under the desk and pulled the office chair in close to his body. Luckily, it was a huge desk, and there was room enough for both him and the chair.
He couldn’t see who had entered, but he recognized the voice. It was Abraham Metcalf. He was muttering something that sounded like a cross between a prayer and a complaint.
“Lord, I beg for your aid. The devil besets me at every turn. He has sent his imp to break my rest once more. Annabeth pursues me from beyond the grave.”
His words lapsed into slurred incoherence. If Erik didn’t know better, he might have suspected the old man was drunk. Then he remembered the gossip about the diviner’s “medicine.” Whatever it was, he seemed to be under its effects now. He might even be sleepwalking.
Erik relaxed a hairsbreadth. If he was spotted here, maybe Metcalf would think he was a hallucination. Better yet, the old man might not even remember the encounter the following morning.
“I need the comfort of your revelations, Lord, tonight of all nights. I can only quell the attack of demons with your words. Yes, yes. That will surely drive them away.”
To the paladin’s relief, the diviner didn’t pull out his chair and sit down. Instead, he shuffled to the other side of the office. Erik leaned down and peeped under the bottom of the desk to see what the old man was doing.
Metcalf pressed his hand against one of the carved wooden inlays in the wall, and a panel door slid noiselessly aside.
“What the hell?” Erik murmured inaudibly.
The diviner disappeared, but the paladin heard what sounded like a metal door opening in a hidden passageway.
Several minutes later the old man returned and sealed the wall behind him. He was talking to his god again. “As you can see, Lord, I have taken special care to preserve your holiest prophecy. Not safe in my prayer closet any more. No, no. Not after Annabeth. Her satanic master wanted her to destroy all the sacred writings. But I have protected this in my vault where her demon claws can’t tear it to pieces.” He trundled to the front of his desk and dropped what sounded like a heavy book on its top.
Erik could hear the sound of Abraham leafing through the pages, whispering gibberish all the while.
In a louder voice, he announced, “The devil shall not prevail. Your words tell me so, no matter how sorely I am tried. You imparted this foretelling to my predecessor, but it was meant for me. For me alone! I will heed your command, Lord. I am faithful to the end.”
The diviner flipped another page and began to intone a passage aloud from the book he’d retrieved. “‘And in the end times shall arise a mighty leader. He shall rule the Blessed Nephilim and set their feet upon the path of righteousness. His name shall be called Abraham for he shall be the father of his people as it was in the beginning. And he shall cleanse the world with pestilence and plague. He shall grind the Fallen to dust beneath his feet. But let him be mindful of the Bones of the Mother. For whosoever shall lay hands on them will claim the Sage Stone and receive the power to change the world forever.’”
Erik stifled a gasp. He’d struck the motherlode. This explained everything. Metcalf’s insane quest for the Sage Stone finally made sense. The paladin wanted to commit the entire passage to memory but doubted he could. His attention was immediately diverted as the old man started mumbling again.
“Phanuel, you’ve returned.” His voice sounded glad. “Lo, the Lord has taken pity on me and sent you. I have seen dark visions of late. Too many dark visions. I took double the medicine tonight, but it wasn’t enough. It’s never enough these days no matter how much I take. Not like at the beginning when you showed me the splendors of paradise. A shadow has passed across my heart. Across my eyes. Banish the shades of night, I beg you.” Metcalf paused as if listenin
g to a voice. “You want me to come with you?” He took a few paces toward the door. “Yes, of course. I will gladly follow wherever you lead. Open the gates of the celestial kingdom to me once more.”
The diviner had apparently forgotten about his book of prophecies entirely. He was now engrossed in a conversation with an invisible angel. There was some kind of dialogue going on, but Erik couldn’t make any sense of it. Metcalf walked out of the office and locked the door behind him.
Erik waited until the echo of the lopsided conversation had receded down the hall and out of earshot. Then he crept out of his hiding place to assess what he’d learned. It was finally clear to him why three surveillance cameras were pointing at a blank wall. Metcalf had concealed a secret vault behind the paneling. It probably housed all the artifacts he’d been accumulating over the years including what he thought were the genuine Bones of the Mother. He must have felt the prophecy itself was at risk and stored it among his other treasures.
The paladin considered it a lucky break that Metcalf had been pestered by bad dreams tonight and needed the reassurance of his sacred text. He grinned broadly. The book still lay open on the opposite side of the desk. The paladin briefly examined the cover and realized it was a book of prophecies made by a diviner who’d lived a century earlier.
He drew a sheet of printer paper from a stack lying on the windowsill. Then he copied the prophecy verbatim. When Maddie had sent him on this errand tonight, she’d hoped he might find some tiny clue to give them a tactical advantage over the Nephilim. Erik felt confident that what he’d just stumbled across would help them shut down the brotherhood once and for all.
Chapter 45—Do You Believe in Magic?
“We’re back,” Cassie announced as she strode into Maddie’s office at the vault.
“So I see.” The chatelaine looked up from her paperwork. “I’ve just been going over the status report Griffin emailed me. Is the Sage Stone secured in the cave?”
“Lars is guarding the site even as we speak,” the scrivener assured her.
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