The Indwelling: The Beast Takes Possession

by Tim LaHaye

  “I know.”

  “Then unless we are precise to a millimeter, the blade could cut its way out vertically. Cardinal rule of forensic pathology: Do as little damage to the body as possible so it is easier to determine how much trauma was actually inflicted from without.”

  “Ah, Madeline, if I could have a word.”

  “Please.”

  “Privately.”

  “Excuse us,” she said, obviously looking at her assistants. Footsteps.

  “Madeline, I apologize for any part I played in this dangerous situation. But we have been friends a long time. I sold the supreme commander on you because I wanted you to have the honor and the income. I resent being berated in front of your subordinates and—”

  “Point well taken. I’ll say nice things about you when you’re gone. And I do appreciate the assignment. I don’t know what the benefits are to a mortician asked to evaluate the most famous victim in history, but I do owe you thanks for that.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said flatly, and David heard him leave.

  Pietr and Kiersten returned. “Wow,” Pietr said.

  “Wow is right,” Dr. Eikenberry said. “That man?”

  “Yes.”

  “That doctor who just left?” she clarified.

  “Yes.”

  “I must tell you, he is a complete idiot.”

  The mortician told the transcriptionist to please disregard everything since the turning of the body and to pick up at that point. She explained how she had irrigated the entire wound area and found “just the one entry and one exit wound, with weapon still in place. The entry wound is considerably larger than the exit, and nearly all the blood flow came from the neck, though understandably there is evidence of blood exiting through eyes, nose, mouth, and ears as well. That the entry wound is clearly larger, while the blade itself is not that much wider there, indicates that the weapon was dug and twisted aggressively. The skull would have held the top of the weapon in place, but the bottom appears to have been flexible enough to inflict severe trauma.”

  David looked at Mac and exhaled. “Rayford’s in the clear. I mean, he might get busted for shooting at Carpathia, but he couldn’t have killed him.”

  Mac shook his head. “Sounds to me like Carpathia was murdered by one of his own people.”

  “It sure does,” David said. “There was talk of one of the potentates with something in his coat, but I want to see the video chips.”

  Buck awoke late morning, stiff and sore. The sun blinded, but Chaim remained asleep. Buck took a closer look at Chaim’s ratty blanket. The inside was blood encrusted, and he wondered how the old man could stand it. He also worried that some of the blood might be Chaim’s own.

  Buck carefully tugged at the blanket to see if any blood stained Chaim’s pajamas. But Chaim held tight and turned over, exposing his back. No wounds or stains that Buck could see.

  “You awake?” the old man mumbled, still facing away from Buck.

  “Yes. We have to talk.”

  “Later.”

  “Now.”

  “Why don’t you go find me some clothes? I need to get home, and I can’t go like this.”

  “You don’t think the GC is waiting for you there?”

  Chaim rolled over to face Buck, squinting against the sunlight. “And why would they be? Where’s my phone? I want to call the house, talk to Jacov.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Don’t, Chaim. I know the truth. I know what happened.”

  “You saw nothing! No one saw anything!”

  “You can’t admit to me what I know already? What kind of a friend are you?”

  Chaim got up and relieved himself, then returned to sit wearily on the bed. His white hair pointed everywhere. “You should be happy,” he said.

  “Happy?”

  “Of course! What do you care how the deed was done, so long as it was done?”

  “I care because you did it!”

  “You don’t know that. And what if I did?”

  “You’ll die for it, that’s what! You think I want that?”

  Chaim cocked his head and shrugged. “You’re a better friend than I, Cameron.”

  “I’m beginning to think so.”

  Chaim chuckled. “I can’t cheer you, eh?”

  “Tell me how you did it, Chaim.”

  “The less you know, the less you have to answer for.”

  “Oh, don’t be naive! You’ve been around too long for that. I have to answer for everything. I have to be grateful for facial lacerations, because if I had not suffered them, I would have had to change my appearance anyway. Telling me you murdered Carpathia won’t add much to my plate. They have enough on me, manufactured and otherwise, to put me away on sight. So, tell me.”

  “I’m telling no one. This is mine alone.”

  “But you know you can’t go home.”

  “I can tell my people where I am, that I am all right.”

  “You must come to the States with me.”

  “I can’t leave my country, my staff.”

  “Chaim, listen to me. Your staff is dead. They were tortured and massacred last night by the GC, probably trying to get to you.”

  Chaim looked up slowly, his hair casting wild shadows on the far wall. “Don’t talk crazy,” he said warily. “That is not amusing.”

  “I wouldn’t joke about that, Chaim. Jacov was killed by a blow to the chin that broke his neck. A guard hit him with the butt end of an Uzi when he tried to rush to you.”

  Chaim put a hand over his mouth and sucked in a noisy breath. “Don’t,” he said, his words muffled. “Don’t do this to me.”

  “I didn’t do it, Chaim. You did it.”

  “He’s dead? You know for certain he’s dead?”

  “I checked his pulse myself.”

  “What have I done?”

  “Hannelore and her mother and Stefan are gone too.”

  Chaim stood and moved toward the door as if wanting to leave but knowing he had nowhere to go. “No!” he wailed. “Why?”

  “Someone had to know, Chaim. Someone had to have seen you. Surely you didn’t expect to get away with it.”

  Chaim’s knees gave way and he hit the floor hard, a high-pitched cry in his throat. “You checked the pulses at my home too?”

  Buck nodded.

  “That was not smart. You could have been killed too.”

  “And my death would have been your fault too, Chaim. Look what’s happened!”

  Chaim turned and leaned over the bed, still kneeling. He buried his face in his hands. “I was willing to die,” he managed. “I didn’t care about myself. The sword was perfect and fit into the tubing of my chair just so. No one knew. Not even Jacov. Oh, Jacov! Jacov! What have I done to you? Cameron! You must kill me! You must avenge those deaths!” He stood quickly and opened the window. “If I lose my nerve, you must push me! Please, I cannot bear this!”

  “Shut the window, Chaim. I’m not going to kill you, and I won’t let you kill yourself.”

  “I’ll not turn myself in to those swine. I wouldn’t give them the satisfaction! Oh, I will kill myself, Cameron. You know I will!”

  “You’ll have to try without me present. I love you too much, Chaim. I will die before you do to keep you from going to hell.”

  “Hell? If God would send me to hell for murdering such a monster, I will go happily. But he should send me to hell for what I did to my people! Oh, Cameron!” He collapsed onto the bed, rolling into a fetal position and groaning as if about to burst. Suddenly he sat up, seeming eager to relive the deed.

  “I was going to leap from my chair at just the right moment, weapon in hand. He is so much taller, I had been practicing my jumping. I was going to leap as high as I could and, with both hands on the handle, drive the blade down through the top of his head. The whole world would see and know.

  “There were all those shenanigans on the stage, people standing, sitting, moving, laughing. I joined in, m
easuring the distance, seeing where I could maneuver the chair. When he came to greet me and lift my hand, I came close to reaching across my body to lift out the sword and plunge it into his heart. But my angle was wrong. I would not have had the leverage to get the blade out, let alone to thrust it where I needed to.

  “I was rolling toward him finally as he moved my way. My plan was to turn quickly at the last minute and trip him. Then I would leap from the chair and kill him. But just as he got near me, the gun went off. At first I thought I had been detected and that his security guards had shot me. But he lurched my way, away from the sound of the gun and the shattering lectern.

  “I could see that he was about to tumble into my lap, so I quickly withdrew the blade. I didn’t have time even to orient it in my hands. I pointed it straight up and held steady as he fell back onto it. I held firm and tried to scrape the brain from his evil head. He jerked, and I let go. He rolled to my feet. It was chaos. People came running. I steered away and, for an instant, I thought I had gotten away with it. The timing! The shot! I could tell it came from the crowd, and as I ran away I wondered if it might be mistaken for a two-person crime.

  “I had plotted an unlikely escape just on a lark. And here I am. Who would have believed it?”

  Buck sat shaking his head. Chaim rolled back over, moaning. “You’re right,” he whispered. “It’s all on me. I did this to them. Oh, no, no, no . . .”

  Buck heard voices below the window. Three vagrants sat sharing a bottle. “Which of you would like a fifty-Nick note?” he called down.

  Two waved him off, but a young drunk stood quickly. “What I gotta do?”

  “Buy me some clothes and shoes with this twenty, and when you bring ’em back, keep the change and get another fifty.”

  The other two laughed and tried to sing. The young drunk squinted and let his head fall back. “How do you know I won’t run off with your twenty?”

  “My risk,” Buck said. “Your loss. You want twenty or fifty?”

  “Gimme,” the man said, reaching. Buck let the bill flutter down, which brought the other two to their feet to compete for it. The younger shoved them away and got it easily. Buck felt better about his chances when the man turned back to him and said, “What size?”

  “No deal,” Abdullah said on the phone.

  “What’s the problem?” David said.

  “The guy had the fear of God in him. Wouldn’t let those chips out of his sight. I didn’t even get the machine out of my bag. He said he’d stand there and watch while I logged them in, if I had to.”

  “I just hope they’re not bringing them here to destroy them. They’re the only hope of exonerating Rayford.”

  “Exonerating? What’s that mean?”

  “Getting him off the hook.”

  “No, sir,” Abdullah said. “He didn’t even have to pull the trigger to be guilty. He drew down on Carpathia. What more do they need? He needs to stay as far away from here as he can.”

  CHAPTER 9

  Seven Hours Later

  David hated getting so little time with Annie, but he knew their exile was fast approaching. Then, if they could pull it off, they would be together as much as they wanted—and probably a long, long way from New Babylon.

  What an incredibly beautiful city New Babylon would have been under other circumstances. Carpathia had employed the best architects and landscapers and designers and decorators. And except for the absence of any God-honoring works of art, the place looked magnificent, particularly at night. Great colored spotlights accented the massive, crystalline buildings. Only since the recent decimation of another huge percentage of the population and the resulting personnel shortages had the place begun to evidence the lack. It took longer for refuse removal or for lights to be repaired. Yet still the skyline was stunning, a man-made marvel.

  As dusk crept over the horizon, David sat listening to Fortunato, Hickman, and Moon through the bug in Carpathia’s office. He couldn’t tell whether Leon was actually in Nicolae’s chair, but it sure sounded like it. They were watching the recordings that had been brought back from the Gala. David sat with his head in his hands, using earphones to be sure to catch every detail. He wished he could see the recordings, but that was not his call.

  They played and replayed and replayed clips that included the gunshot. “See?” Moon said. “He’s right down there, stage right, about three or four deep, there! See? Pause!”

  “I see it, Walter,” Leon said. “Good thing we’ve got fingerprints. I would not have been able to tell who that was in a million years.”

  “Good getup,” Hickman said. “The gray hair stickin’ out of the turban. Nice touch. Robes. I woulda thought he was an Arab.”

  “Some kinda raghead anyway.”

  They all chuckled.

  “Rayford Steele,” Leon said softly. “Who’d have believed that? Wouldn’t murder be against his religion?”

  Laughter. Silence. Then, “I don’t know.” It was Hickman. “Maybe he convinces himself it’s a holy war. Then I guess everything goes.”

  “Fact is,” Moon said, “he missed.”

  “You look close,” Hickman said, “and he had a better shot earlier. He fires then, he’s our guy. But I don’t think he even meant to shoot when he did.”

  “What’re you talking about?”

  “Look. Slow motion, well, back it up a second first. Look! Right there! Somebody bumps him. A little person. A woman? Can you zoom?”

  “I don’t know how to run these crazy machines,” Leon said. “We oughta get Hassid in here.”

  “You want me to call him?”

  “Maybe. Just a minute. Here, OK. Slow and zoomed. What do you see?”

  “There!” Hickman said again. “She trips, loses her balance or somethin’. Ha! Who’s that look like? Wally, who’s that remind you of?”

  “Nah.”

  “No? Come on! Who am I thinkin’ of?”

  “I know who you’re thinking of, but we’ve got her eyeballed in North America. Probably trying to get to her sister’s funeral. She doesn’t know it was a month ago.”

  They chuckled again, and David picked up the phone. “Rayford,” he said, “maybe Hattie’s not on her way to the safe house yet. GC’s tracked her out west, trying to make her sister’s funeral.”

  “That’s a relief. Maybe we’re OK for a while.”

  “Don’t get overconfident. I uploaded a whole bunch of stuff to Chloe’s computer so you can see your new digs, if you need ’em. Where are you?”

  “Well, I was about to put down at Palwaukee when I heard from Leah. I’d been having trouble reaching T to see if he could go get her in Kankakee, southeast of here. She never got him either, so I’m on my way to get her. We’ll come back here and use Buck’s car to see if we can get to the safe house.”

  “Call Tsion first. Last time I talked to him he said he thought he heard car noises.”

  “That’s not good.”

  “Tell me about it,” David said. “Hey, Leah might need a new alias.”

  “Yeah? Why?”

  “She’s been asking around about Hattie using that Clendenon name. They might try to follow her to Hattie.”

  “They’re already onto Hattie. They don’t need Leah.”

  “Whatever you say, Rayford. Just a thought.”

  “I appreciate it.”

  “You’d better be careful. They’re going to try to pin this on you.” David told him of the autopsy and evidence investigation.

  “So I missed, just like you thought?”

  “Looks pretty sure at this point.”

  “Then how can they pin it on me?”

  “What, they’re obligated to the truth? If you didn’t do it, someone on the platform did.”

  “My money’s on one of the three insurgent kings,” Rayford said. “Probably Litwala.”

  “Even if you’re right, you’re a less embarrassing assassin than somebody behind Nicolae. I’ll bet you’re the scapegoat.”

  Buck had sat
with the morose Chaim Rosenzweig the whole day. The old man had alternately slept and wept, threatening suicide. Buck wanted to go out and find them something to eat, but he didn’t dare leave Chaim. The drunk came back to toss a bundle of used clothes up to the window, but he wasn’t interested in more money to find food. Once he had his fifty, he was gone.

  Buck called the desk. “Anybody down there that could bring us some food for a fee?”

  “What, you think we got room service?”

  “Just tell me if you know anybody who wants to make a few Nicks.”

  “Yeah, OK. When the concierge gets off his break, I’ll send ’im up. You’ll recognize him by his tuxedo.”

  Amazingly, ten minutes later someone knocked tentatively. Buck wished he had a gun. “Who is it?”

  “I’ll get you food,” a man said. “How much?”

  “Ten.”

  “Deal.”

  Buck sent him out for local fare. It was all he could do to get Chaim to eat a few bites. Presently, David called.

  “Is it true?” he asked. “About Chaim?”

  Buck was stunned. “What about him?”

  “That he’s dead, burned up at his home along with his whole staff?”

  “You know that’s not true, David. Hasn’t anyone told you I’m with him?”

  “I’m just telling you what’s on television.”

  “So that’s how they’re going to spin it? Hero statesman dies in a fire. That keeps him out of the conspiracy?”

  “They’re convinced one of the three insurgents did it,” David said, “but that would be bad for morale. What’s Chaim’s theory? He was right there.”

  “We need to talk about this later, David. I need to get him out of here.”

  “How?”

  “I finally got hold of T. He’s bringing the Super J. I directed him to a blocked-off road. We have to be there when he puts down so he can be in the air again before anyone’s the wiser. We’ll have to stop in Greece for fuel, though—wouldn’t want to risk it over here.”

  Tsion was alarmed. Chloe was proposing madness. “Can I trust you with Kenny,” she said, “that you won’t fall asleep?”