by Adam Hiatt
The undercroft was a completely different visual experience than the cathedral upstairs. It was a maze of bricked archways and passages that felt claustrophobic beneath the low ceilings. The lighting was exceedingly dim, making it difficult to discern objects from shadows. Reddic closed his eyes to adjust to the sudden darkness, but the uneasiness he felt remained. He thought he was alone, but with the shady expanses he couldn’t be too sure. This was his first trip to the undercroft. He didn’t have the luxury of searching every nook and alcove beforehand. The space was much bigger than he had expected. The possibility that there could be another person down there was a reality. The best thing to do to avoid any suspicion was to act like he was supposed to be there. After all, he already looked the part.
He lowered the gun to his navel and brought his left hand over top. With the weak lighting it would blend in seamlessly with his black cassock. He bowed his head and began walking reverently down the narrow passageway, keeping his eyes in constant motion, taking in as many details as possible. He passed a couple of intimate chapels tucked away underneath a few arches until he found himself standing outside an area curtained off from floor to ceiling.
He silently parted the drapery and slid inside. In the center of the confined space was an altar and nothing else. Four candles, two in front and two behind, were mounted to the wall and pillars, giving off a low, flickering orange glow. As Reddic took in the room the words from the document they had found in Paris came to mind.
And do all these things in secret, over an altar…
He had no doubt this was where the meet would take place.
Reddic removed the pendant from around his neck and hung it over the top of the candle sconce mounted to a pillar. He held the cross in his hand and flipped it over, activating a small switch on the backside. He then pulled out his phone and paired it and the pendant via Bluetooth. As soon as it was connected a live-feed picture of the room instantly appeared on the phone’s screen.
Reddic smiled with approval. After leaving the barren peninsula and before arriving downtown, he stopped by an electronics store specializing in home surveillance equipment. The moment he saw the small pendant his eyes lit up. It was precisely what he was hoping to find. It was small, only four inches long and two wide, and practical, both the video and audio were surprisingly high quality. Above all else, it was prudent. A cross hanging on a pillar inside the basilica would look commonplace and not draw unwanted attention.
Satisfied that the miniscule camera hung at the proper angle, he stepped back through the curtains and ambled back through the passage to the steps, leaving the crypt and locking the door behind him. He came out of the stairwell and slowly shuffled down off the dais into the aisle between pews, making his way to the rear of the spacious hall. Not a single soul was inside the cathedral.
Three solid doors protected the basilica from the world outside. The Greek ionic columns of the massive portico were just within view through the small windows. Flanking the walls on each side of the entrance were confessional booths. Reddic used the key to unlock the stall on his right and stepped inside. He sat on a cushioned bench and fixed his gaze toward the entry. The semitransparent wicker screen allowed him to see anybody who entered and exited the building. He checked the image on his phone once again. All was still and quiet below. It was now just a waiting game to find out if his hunch was correct.
After a few minutes the sound of a latch snapping open disrupted the peaceful solitude. The main door swung open and a man wearing a brown hooded robe walked through. His face was concealed, and he tucked both hands into opposite sleeves after closing the door behind him. Reddic sat up straight and watched him move down the nave before he lost sight. A foreboding feeling surged through him like an electrical current. Maybe it was his gut instinct or a tinkling on the back of his neck, but whatever it was, he was certain the Priest had just arrived.
Keeping a close watch on the phone’s screen, the enclosed space in the undercroft remained vacant. Naturally, he began to wonder if he had guessed wrong when suddenly, the cathedral door opened again, pulling his attention away from the device. Reddic glanced up and instantly reached for his gun. The distinct compact build, the dangerous demeanor of the assassin unnerved him. The appearance of Mahan was corroboration of his earlier impression and confirmation that the meet was on.
Reddic waited thirty seconds before dialing Jenkins. The sound of her voice came through crystal clear in the earpiece.
“The party is just getting started,” he said softly. “Do you have a computer nearby?”
“I do, and I’m hear with the president,” she said. Reddic understood the insinuation. This was their one and only shot at exonerating her and bringing Cushman down.
“I’m transmitting a camera feed to you right now. Okay, you should see what I’m seeing.”
“Got it. I see a dark room, but nobody’s—wait a second. A man just walked in.” Reddic saw the same image. Mahan was kneeling before the altar with his back to the pendant.
“I’m going to go silent on my end so I can hear the feed. Do the same but stay on the line.”
Reddic muted the call and watched the live video. Another person suddenly entered the screen from the right and stood opposite the assassin.
“Bless me father, for I have sinned,” Mahan said. “It has been two days since my last confession, and these are my sins.” He lifted his hand over his head. “I pray for your guidance.”
“What do you desire of me?” the Priest asked.
“Illumination.”
“Swear by your throat and you shall receive it.”
The two men clasped hands and Mahan brought his left hand in front of his neck. He made a slashing motion as he spoke.
“I swear by my throat my life and loyalty to you in exchange for what man desires.”
“You shall be given what man desires.” The Priest moved Mahan’s arm, but Reddic couldn’t see exactly why from the camera angle. “What is the name that controls this blood?” he asked.
“Mahan.”
“You are worthy to receive illumination.”
Both men released the other’s hand. Reddic shivered from inside the confessional watching it unfold. Everything was just as he had read from the ancient record. It really was a secret darkness.
“We have a problem,” the Priest said.
“I know,” Mahan replied. “I have failed you.”
“You lost Hansen and her research, haven’t you?”
“Somebody got to Isaiah and broke him. He led an ambush to the building.”
“Your failures are unacceptable, Mahan. That energy source is our future. Our order cannot fulfill its destiny without it.”
“I will not stop until it is back in our possession.”
“That is no longer necessary,” the Priest said. “I will reacquire it myself. You need to know that if not for extraordinary circumstances you would suffer the consequences for your failure. However, there is a way for you to redeem yourself.”
“I will do anything,” Mahan said.
“I know you will. There is a new enemy that needs your full attention. Madison Jenkins, the woman spy. She is the single greatest threat to the brotherhood. She seeks to expose us. She must not succeed.”
“Where is she now?”
“She’s hiding, on the run, but she’ll surface soon. I will help to lure her out. And when she shows her pretty little face you will show no mercy.”
Reddic brought up the call page and unmuted the volume. “Madison are you getting all this?” he eagerly asked.
“Yes, we heard all of it.” Her voice sounded distant, as if she were lost in thought.
“How much more do you need to see?”
“Nothing. The president just left the room. He has all the confirmation needs. Cushman’s voice is unmistakable. He left this operation in my hands, but made it clear he will be taking applications for a new chief of staff in the morning. He’s very shaken up about this.”
“I know.” She paused, causing Reddic’s anxiety to rise. There was only one way to end this, but with the president involved he needed explicit approval.
“I am authorizing you to use lethal force,” she finally said. “But I want to see his face first.”
Reddic ended the call before Jenkins could change her mind. This was the only way it could be. He hurried out of the booth and scurried down the aisle toward the dais. The gun was out as he took the first step leading to the crypt. One final glance at the phone confirmed that Cushman and Mahan had not moved from the altar. Reddic pocketed the phone and descended the stairs without a sound.
Within seconds he stood outside the curtains. He could hear their voices through the earpiece. There would be no hesitation once he entered the chamber. He visualized where both men were located and how he would take them out. He felt no trepidation, no second thoughts with what he was about to do. These were vile human beings. They preyed on innocent people to get gain. They trampled anybody that stood in their way of power. They practiced secret works of darkness. They were everything that was wrong with humanity. He knew what he had to do and wouldn’t lose any sleep sending them back to their maker.
He inserted the nose of the silencer in the curtain divide and parted it enough to see Mahan’s back. He steadied his nerves, breathed evenly, and jumped through the opening. At the sound of the sudden commotion Mahan fearfully twisted around from where he knelt. A glimmer of recognition flashed over his face just as a bullet hit him in the forehead, cutting a red dot the size of a dime. His muscles failed him as he fell to his left and bounced off the stone floor, coming to rest in a contorted position.
Cushman stood frozen on the far side of the altar; hands clenched in fists. Even with the robe Reddic could see his paunch protrude underneath. He was clearly a man that had others do his heavy lifting.
“I don’t know who you work for,” he said, “but if you join our brotherhood you will become rich and powerful beyond imagination.”
Reddic kept his gun aimed at Cushman and made sure to stay out of the camera’s view. Even though he was working for the government today, the political winds could change in an instant. There was no way he was going to be caught on tape.
“Take your hood off,” Reddic demanded. At first the Priest hesitated, but after realizing he had no other options, he slowly uncovered his head. The face of Kim Cushman stared back at him.
“You’ve messed with the wrong person,” Reddic said ominously. “Say goodbye to Madison Jenkins.”
Confused, Cushman finally saw the pendant hanging on the candle sconce and realized what was happening just as Reddic squeezed off a round, striking him right between the eyes. His knees buckled, and his chin bounced off the top of the altar as he fell to the ground. Just like that Cushman’s life was over.
Reddic reached for the cross and deactivated the camera before dialing Jenkins. “It’s done,” he said, once he had her on the line.
“I saw,” she replied. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Look, you’ll need to have this cleaned up ASAP.”
“A team is on its way. What are you going to do now?”
Reddic stepped through the curtains back into the narrow passage as he pondered her question. There was so much he needed to do. He needed to get out of these clothes and away from these dead bodies. He needed to find Jaxon before he ran out of gas. He needed to sleep. He needed to go on a date. He needed a vacation. He needed to work on his game. He needed to reevaluate his life. All this would come in time. Right now, he just needed space.
“I’ll call you later,” he said.
53
“Will you wipe that silly grin off your face?” Reddic said as he slowly drove through the second security gate on Executive Avenue. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“I still can’t believe we’re here,” Jaxon said. “I mean, I’ve been on tours to the White House, but I’ve never been invited.”
“Neither have I, so just play it cool while we’re here, okay. This is a big day for Brooke. You need to restrain yourself from setting off on one of your famous exploratory forays until after she has presented her stuff.”
“Have I ever led you astray before?”
“Yeah, right.”
The white exterior of the executive mansion’s West Wing was in view just ahead. Reddic searched for a place to park amongst the diagonally marked spots on both sides of the narrow one-way street. A little over a week had passed since his assignment concluded in Baltimore. It had been a strenuous couple of days on the job, especially having just finished an eighty-two-game basketball season. He was tired, fatigued, exhausted, spent; all the above.
For that reason, he took the liberty of heading home for a break. Not home to Arizona where he lived during the season, but back to the state of Washington, his real home. It was an ideal few days of decompressing. Jaxon was there with him the entire time too. He used the excuse of “research” to justify the travel expenses charged to his university budget. All things considered, it was the first time in what seemed like years they could just hang out and not be at the beck and call of his playing schedule or an operation.
Reddic kept contact with the outside world to a minimum. He took one call from his agent and another from the team’s general manager, but that was it. Jenkins had called a handful of times, but he let those go to voicemail. After a few days his guilt caught up to him and he called her back. To his surprise, she was reasonably understanding of the communication blackout. All she really wanted to know was if he was ready to get back to work.
The first thing she did was bring him up to speed on Brooke. After leaving Baltimore they rendezvoused outside of DC to release her back into Jenkins’ care. Reddic didn’t hold back his opinion that until the damage that Kim Cushman had caused was assessed and rooted out it was in Brooke’s best interest that nobody but Jenkins know where she would be holing up until her work was complete. Jenkins had agreed wholeheartedly.
So, after a long week of work for Brooke she was finally finished. Her research was ready for publication and, more importantly, it was ready to be revealed to the world. The president wanted to make the announcement at the White House for the entire nation to see. At first Reddic cringed at the idea. It reeked of political optics and he hated everything about politics. Here was a private citizen using private grants to develop a theory into a functional prototype that would more than likely change the world’s energy consumption and the president and his administration were posturing for credit. But after Jenkins reasoned with him and explained it away as a necessary prerogative of the executive branch, he relented. Additionally, she had expounded, the president was beyond gratified with the efforts of EOS. Reddic got the hint. A happy president meant a stable and resource-rich EOS.
Accounting for the death of Kim Cushman, the president’s chief of staff, was a whole different, convoluted matter. There were many factors to consider. For the sake of national security, as well as the sanctity of the office of the president, the perception of James Rutherford as a leader, and for general trust in the federal government, it was determined that the truth could not be told.
“Could you imagine,” Jenkins had posited, “what the American public would think if they ever learned that one of the highest ranking cabinet members was the mastermind behind a plot to abduct and subsequently kill one of this country’s most accomplished physicists for profit and gain? Let alone the way in which he manipulated Rutherford. And that evil, dark outfit he ran as the Priest. It wouldn’t just be a scandal; it would be complete pandemonium.”
Of course, she was right. The truth about the secret darkness and Cushman’s involvement could never see the light of day. For that reason, the White House released an official version of events to the media. It told of Cushman being randomly targeted and murdered at the hands of a mentally deranged two-time felon. In as much as the
killer had taken his own life at the scene of the homicide, no investigation or autopsy was initiated. The country mourned the tragic loss of life for a mere two days until a new chief of staff was appointed and all was forgotten in the wash of the twenty-four-hour news cycle.
Reddic found a parking space a few yards to the south of the West Wing. He and Jaxon left the car with their visitor passes hanging from their necks on lanyards. They bypassed the west entrance where the vice president, national security adviser, and other senior cabinet staffers would normally enter, and instead climbed the steps just north of the building that led to the front entrance. There they were met by two secret service agents under the porte cochere. The small portico was built in 1969 to protect visitors from the elements when disembarking from their vehicles.
Once they showed ID and had their names crosschecked with the guestlist they were permitted to enter the West Wing. A slender foyer received them as they made their way inside the building. Hanging on both sides were two towering mirrors that when standing in between them created an infinite reflection. At the end of the foyer was a pair of doors leading to the lobby. Like much of the White House, the lobby was formal, stately, and decorated with an assortment of empire furnishings. The carpet carried a brown shade with diamond patterns that complemented the red upholstery on the chairs and couches.
They passed right through the lobby into the corridor running parallel to the Roosevelt Room. One of the doors was ajar, giving them an opportunity to peek inside. In the center of the room was a long rectangular table with at least sixteen chairs around it. A fireplace and video armoire flanked the table and a row of flags lined the length of the nearest wall.