Weasel’s eyes snapped back from gazing at something just over his shoulder to his face. “My grandma says I need to tell you.”
“What’s that, Mr. Wen—I mean Weasel?” He held on to the rails of the bed and bent close to the broken man.
“She says I need to tell you about ‘The One.’”
“The one? Do you mean Mr. Taylor—Uncle?”
Weasel barely shook his head. “The One. Mr. Taylor serves The One. The gray rat … he is The One … I didn’t know, but Grandma told me … it makes sense now.” Weasel’s words grew softer and his eyes started to close.
Williams sighed and shook his head and began to straighten. Weasel’s eyes popped open and he met his gaze. “Mr. Taylor killed a lot of babies. Ash and Susan too. There is a secret room with lots of evidence …”
He waited for Weasel to continue, but this time Weasel did not open his eyes again. Instead he exhaled in a distinctive way—a death rattle. Machines began to bleat out with whistles and alarms, nurses poured into the room and a doctor pushed him out into the corridor.
Weasel was already far away, opening the latch on the gate to his grandma’s yard in Missouri. He felt safe and happy and loved. The rat could not get him now, because he had told the truth and now he was free in a place the rat could never go. Grandma enfolded him in her arms and he felt perfect peace.
Williams called his superior. “Mr. Wendel is flatlining. No, he didn’t say anything we can hang our hat on.” He didn’t mention the secret room to his boss or the killing of babies—it didn’t tie in at all with their main investigation, not to mention that Wendel was out of his gourd. After all, he had mentioned the giant rat in almost the same breath. He hung up with his boss and his phone rang again. Beyond “Hello” and “Yes” he only listened absentmindedly, as he watched the hospital workers trying to bring life back to Weasel’s broken body.
Chapter 51
As he entered the Vegas city limits, Tom contacted air traffic control. He was not surprised he was told to circle. Vegas was one of the busiest airports in the West. He put the plane on autopilot, pulled the .22 out, turned his head away and shot a hole through the window on his left. Farley yelped and Tom winced. The explosion was much louder in the compact plane than he had expected.
“Sorry, Farley.” He reached over and patted the dog. Next, he slowly rolled his sleeve up and gingerly unwrapped his arm. The bleeding had stopped, but it looked ugly and hurt like hell. What he had to do could wait until he landed. He pulled his shirt out of his jeans and made sure his gun was hidden. He ran over the plan again, not wanting to, but unable to stop himself. It could work—it had to. He had done worse things—like shooting a man.
In his circling, he got as close to the Azteca as he dared without going off flight path, but it was too far away to see if there was a helicopter on the roof. Cami and Landon had to be there and they had to be okay.
At last the waiting was over and an aircraft controller summoned him to land. Tom swallowed hard and began his descent.
Susan could not help wondering if the Vegas before her was real. Time had been weird on the trip home, and it seemed much of the flight had been completed without her being there. She chalked it up to something similar to highway hypnosis, but she had never experienced it before while piloting the chopper. The air traffic controller that cut in on the radio was real enough. She managed to reply normally, though she had to put the bird on autopilot for a moment to work the radio.
Again it seemed time was weirding out on her, because the city went on and on and she wasn’t getting closer to the Azteca. Then suddenly it was there and she had to scramble for the landing. Then they were on the roof and she was shutting it down. She wanted to collapse against the seat, but knew the sharp pain would take her consciousness. Her muscles were shaking with effort. She had not allowed herself to change positions in over three hours, and now she could not let herself out of the helicopter without passing out. Suddenly, Uncle was there, tall and leering in the window; she laughed saying, “I have avenged Ash …” But that was all she got out before her exhausted body collapsed.
Father Bob shifted his weight to his other leg and sighed. He could not read his watch in the gloom of the basement, but hours must have passed since Taylor had shackled him to this ladder. His bladder told him it had been many hours. He gave in and relieved himself on the tank wall. He didn’t suppose it would bother the sharks.
He wondered about Tom. If he had tried to call. If he had put the plan B into motion when he couldn’t reach him. He wondered if Tom could find anyone who would believe him. He thought of the unfortunate room service man trussed like a turkey in another part of the building—poor guy—he hoped someone would find him sooner rather than later. He thought about his impending death. It didn’t seem possible, although the splashy sound of fins just yards away was authentic enough. He supposed it could be worse and was surprised that these people were not going to torture him—after all, how often did they catch a priest, especially an exorcist? And it began to occur to him that something was awry. Why had Taylor seemed so preoccupied? He was furious about the intrusion, yes, but hadn’t he seemed too hurried and thinking about something else? Father Bob couldn’t figure it out, but he was awfully alone and neglected for a prisoner of his caliber. There had been no interrogation to speak of; he had been put out of sight and out of mind like another errant detail in a troublesome day. It was strange, and that gave Father Bob some hope at last.
Cami wondered if she had been wrong to wait to use the keys. They had landed and she had just pulled the keys out of her pocket to fiddle with the handcuffs when a side door on the building had banged open and two men ran towards the helicopter.
The woman in front cackled and said something, but it was slurred and Cami couldn’t understand her. Besides she was very afraid again as a tall, intimidating man glared into the helicopter, first at the woman and then at her. Instinctively, she pulled Landon, who was still asleep, from the floor and into her arms, waking him and immediately invoking a grumpy cry. The man gave her and Landon a quick, yet assessing look that told Cami he was not surprised and perhaps even somewhat pleased with the pilot’s handiwork. He threw open the front door and shook the woman. “Susan! Susan?” He slapped her hard, but she had passed out. “What’s wrong with her? Did you do this?”
The man’s icy eyes froze Cami at first, but then her temper took over for her. “She was trampled, I guess! I didn’t even see it happen. I wish that cow had killed her.” Landon’s cries had turned to sleepy sobs and at last he stopped as he slept in her arms again.
The frozen eyes took in the sweet baby in her arms before staring into hers. “Me too, miss. Me too.”
She felt chilled looking into those gray eyes. A terror ran through her body from head to toe and then panic hit her, and her free hand began blindly looking for the door handle of the helicopter, even though somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was still shackled to the seat. The tall man didn’t see this and was talking to the other man. Cami pressed her hand to her mouth and closed her eyes trying to get a grip on herself. She had to stay calm so they didn’t truss her up worse than she was … besides, she thought, these people might feed on fear, delight in it, and she wasn’t going to indulge them one bit, not even at the last minute. She would do whatever she could to get out of this or at least get Landon out of it. Barring that, she would not let Landon or herself be tortured, and if she failed, she would not give them the pleasure of her fear. She did not know if she could manage any of these things, but she had to try.
She heard the tall man tell the other man to bring the limo and this surprised her a little, because she thought the woman pilot bitch was in serious need of a hospital, but then remembered how he had agreed with her death wish for the woman.
Chapter 52
Tom waited until the wheels were on the ground to bash his shoulder into the side of the plane. He thought he was going to black out at first, it hurt so badly, and
then he thought he might puke. “Tower … I’ve been shot!” He didn’t have to fake the pain and emotion in his voice.
“Who is this?”
“This is NV1623—” He broke off, panting. “Someone on the ground shot me when I was descending.”
“Steady NV1623. Ambulance is on the way. Stay with us, NV1623—taxi over to the first hangar on the edge of the runway. Okay?”
Blood ran freely down his arm. “Okay.” He brought the plane to a stop and shut it down and unbuckled. Sirens screamed in the distance, and then he could see security and the ambulance coming. He staggered out of the plane with Farley behind him.
They had the gurney out and were going to take his shirt off as they wheeled him to the ambulance. “My dog! Where’s my dog? I can’t leave him!” He sat upright on the gurney despite the EMT trying to hold him down.
“We can’t take him, mister! Don’t worry, someone will take care of him.”
Tom grabbed the EMT by the collar and pulled him eye to eye. “I just lost my wife and little baby boy. I’m sure in the hell not going to leave my dog here.”
The paramedic smiled an it-will-be-all right-smile. “It’s okay, sir, he can ride with us—right, Joe?”
“Sure,” Joe replied, and Tom caught the knowing glances they exchanged. No doubt there was a sedative headed his way.
“Farley!” he called and patted his chest. Farley was there instantly and on his lap. Tom lay down on the gurney and they were behind closed doors in the ambulance with the EMT named Joe. The EMT had his back to Tom—it looked like he was making up a shot. The ambulance was underway and the blaring sirens added to his adrenaline.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“Tom.”
“Any allergies or medical conditions, Tom?”
“No.”
“How long ago were you shot, Tom?”
“I don’t know. Three or four hours ago I guess.”
“That’s weird, because the report came in that you were shot on desc—”
Joe was looking at the end the Colt pointed at his chest. He was stunned, and then Tom could see he was thinking about sticking him with that shot he had in his hand. “Drop it,” he said quietly. Joe dropped it instantly.
“Everything okay, Joe?” his partner called from the front.
“Not really,” Tom replied for Joe. “Drive to the Azteca. I’ve got a gun on Joe here. I don’t want to hurt either of you guys, but I’m going to save my wife and baby. I’ve already killed one man.” His voice trailed off. He could tell from Joe’s expression that there wouldn’t be any trouble. Just another day’s work in Vegas—a successful one, if the clients didn’t kill you while you were trying to save them.
“The Azteca. No problem, man.” Tom could see the driver was pale. “Don’t hurt us, man, we both have wives and families.”
“Just get me there fast.” Tom used his pain to sound mean. “You. Tape this up.”
Joe went to work on his shoulder.
Chapter 53
Billy had only gotten to talk to the FBI guy—Williams? Was that his name?—for a minute or two before he heard the elevator ding in the lobby. He closed the phone, turned it off, slipped it into his front pants pocket and managed to look busy when the boss came in. He looked grimmer and scarier, something Billy would not have thought possible.
“A friend at air traffic control just called me. Our chopper is back in Las Vegas air space and headed this way.”
Billy jumped to his feet and followed his boss. They took the elevator to the top of the parking garage and used a special key to go out the side door. Susan had already landed and the chopper was winding down. Something didn’t look right. Susan was slumped in the pilot chair and it looked like there were passengers. He saw Susan laugh and then he saw her pass out. The boss opened the door and shook and slapped her. If Susan wasn’t such a bitch, Billy might have cared, but she had treated him like a dog turd since the day they had met, and he felt no compassion for her. He studied the woman in the back with the crying baby, however, noting her beaten face and pallor, and he felt sorry for her. When the boss told him to go for the limo, he fled, thanking God for the chance to get away and call the FBI man back.
“Williams.”
“Williams. It’s Billy from the Azteca.”
“Oh yes. Billy. So you have a whole bunch of voodoo stuff, skulls and photos of dead kids. And it came from a hidden room that Mr. Taylor has in the main offices of the Azteca.”
Billy had been afraid that he wouldn’t believe him. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s getting worse. Not only do they have a priest, but Taylor’s niece just showed up in a helicopter with a lady and a little baby.” He tried to keep the panic out of his voice, but he was right in the middle of this and if the FBI didn’t believe him he didn’t know who else he could call for help.
Williams laughed. “Look, kid, I don’t know how you got this number, but stop fucking around and wasting my time.”
Billy turned the phone off and pocketed it. He was at the limo now anyway. He would have to think of some way to get the man to believe him.
Williams turned the screen of his cell phone off and then stopped in his tracks. He had been headed out of the FBI building’s elevator into the parking garage when he had received the call. Maybe he had been distracted—he knew he was tired —he had been up for two days. But now the dead and broken Weasel came to mind and his words whispered back to him: “Mr. Taylor killed a lot of babies … there is a secret room with lots of evidence.” All thought of going home and rest vaporized as he hit the call back on his cell phone, cursing, “Fuck, fuck, fuck… ” under his breath the whole time. The call went straight to voicemail of course. “Shit!” he shouted, ignoring the startled looks of the people getting off the elevator. He dialed his assistant and gave him the number. “Find out who owns this number and if we can track it. ASAP!”
He hung up and pocketed his phone, pacing in the elevator. The adrenaline that had him going now was like an electric charge. Taylor, involved in child sacrifice, a hidden room stacked with evidence. A case like this made casino foul play seem like a game of badminton. If he could play this right he could ride this wave to the top of the agency. Maybe he could even get a book deal and a movie too. He just hoped this Billy called back soon. Catching Taylor red-handed would ice the proverbial cake. At last the elevator opened and he bolted out, running for his office. His assistant already had the name of the owner. “Father Robert Mitchell of Sweetwater, Nevada. The last few calls have been made from Vegas.”
“Google him.”
“Doing it now.” His assistant stared at the screen. “Holy shit.”
“What?!”
“He’s kinda an exorcist priest.”
“What the fuck?” Williams now bent over his assistant’s shoulder to see the screen. The puzzle wasn’t clicking on how this famous exorcist priest was now in the possession of Taylor, but the damnedest thing was that Billy, whoever he was, seemed to be telling the truth.
“What’s up, boss?”
Williams stood up and pressed the backs of his hands to his eyes and threw a gamble. “We’ve got a major operation here, James.”
James looked up, because Williams never used his first name.
“I am going to need all units and request back up from the city and I need you to prepare a press release, which I will dictate to you now …”
Cami sat in the back of the limo. The hateful woman was passed out on the seat next to her, and Cami could see a trickle of blood coming out of her ear. The tall man had called her Susan. Susan coughed and opened her eyes; they were dilated and unfocused. The great lurch of a man sat across from Cami. He saw her staring down at Susan. “She is going to die I think.”
Cami met his eyes and tried to swallow. Her throat felt dry as powder. The way the man looked at her or through her or something, it was as if he could see into her soul and know what things terrified her the most and had the power to unleash those things. She re
membered her terror in the basement. The blackness. The suffocating, inevitability of evil. She broke eye contact with him and cuddled Landon closer; the sleepy boy did not protest. “You are going to let her … die … then—?” Much as she hated the woman beside her, Cami could not believe her uncle was going to let her die.
The man shrugged his shoulders. “It must seem strange to you, miss, that I would let her die. But you don’t know the whole story. Too bad your cowboy husband didn’t shoot her, but then I suppose my Ash would have his head and we would have a different ending.”
His smile was as comforting as a skeleton’s grin. “But Susan did bring me you two and perhaps there is a silver lining,” his voice trailed off as he looked at Landon, and Cami’s stomach sank with dread.
The limo reached the ground level of the parking garage and now pulled around the side of the casino, where a ramp led to the basement.
“Sir?” Billy looked at his boss in the rearview.
“Ah, yes, Billy, you’ve never been down here before. “Use the gray opener for this door.”
He pushed the opener, the automatic door rolled up, and he pulled the limo down the ramp into the bottom of the Azteca. It was a huge, mostly empty room except for two tall aquarium tanks.
“Park near the aquariums, Billy.”
Cami glanced at the aquariums. Aquariums in the basement of a casino. Aquariums in the basement of a devil worshipper’s casino. It couldn’t be good. Whatever was about to happen couldn’t be good.
“Billy, carry my niece up the stairs and leave her on the platform.” Billy looked at him for half a second and then wordlessly obeyed.
The Sacrifice Page 21