by Steven James
It was time for this species to return and make its long-awaited comeback.
________
He had his scimitar with him but left it in the car’s trunk as he pulled up to the security checkpoint at the south entrance of the Ferilex Corporation distribution warehouse fifteen minutes from his home.
He did not think that his car would be inspected. It never had been before.
He had a security clearance card and showed it to the guard, who nodded, greeted him cordially, and waved him on.
The shipment had arrived. The same shipping company that’d delivered the mannequins for Blake’s purposes. The same shipping company that’d brought Blake to their attention in the first place.
Here in the warehouse, there were thirty SCBA air tanks—or self-contained breathing apparatus units—currently ready to be utilized in the case of an emergency.
The preparations would take him about four minutes per tank, plus thirty to forty seconds between tanks. So, maybe five minutes with each one.
If he kept at it, he would be able to finish up in two and a half hours.
This was the part of the plan Ali did not know about, and this was the part that mattered most of all, for it would be not just a strike at the heart of the Great Satan, but a blow to America’s confidence in itself.
Scarlett Farrow–IV
The Transept
In the next scene of the movie, after Harris led Millie Evans from the closet, he took her down the stairs.
She had to hold his hand.
It was in the script.
They passed through the living room and the kitchen, and then through the narrow hallway that Millie liked to run back and forth through—from the house to the church to the house.
Holy to normal.
To holy again.
They entered the back of the church, or the narthex. She knew the word. A real-life pastor who was there on the set to help them with the religious parts of the story had told her what it was called.
It was one of those words that wasn’t naughty to say, but sounded naughty when you said it.
Narthex. Narthex. Narthex.
There in the front of the church was her mother, there on a single chair in the transept.
And that one was a good word.
Transept. Transept. Transept.
Her wrists and ankles were wrapped thick with tape around the arms and legs of the chair.
Harris had also covered her mouth with tape to keep her quiet, and now he tore it off.
“You bastard,” her mom said. It was a word that really was a bad word, but it seemed like, in this case, it was okay for her to say it. “If you even—”
“Shh. Quiet, or I’ll tape your mouth shut again.” Then he turned to Scarlett. “Now, Millie, I’m going to need you to be brave. You know what a gun can do, don’t you?”
She nodded.
He pulled a gun from where he’d slid it under his belt.
“Alright. Then you know it can hurt someone in ways that they can’t get better from.”
“They die.”
“That’s right.”
“Just like Daddy.”
“That’s right, just like your daddy.”
“And they go to heaven.”
“Not everyone does. Not everyone goes to heaven, Millie.”
“Daddy did. He’s in heaven.”
“Well, your mommy won’t go there. She’s been very bad.”
“No, she hasn’t! Don’t hurt my mommy!” The fire in Scarlett’s words was real. The tight, angry threat they carried was not scripted. She was supposed to play the scene as if Millie were scared, just scared, but she knew Millie. After all this time, she knew how Millie would really act, and even though she would be scared, of course, that wasn’t all. Mostly she would be mad, because she loved her mom more than she loved herself.
Mad, mad, mad, mad!
“Well,” Harris said, “I have a gun, and if you try to run away, I’m going to hurt your mommy with it. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
Her mom yelled at her to go, to run, but she didn’t.
No, instead, she stayed right there and tried to figure out how to save her from Harris.
He pointed the gun toward one of the church pews. “Millie, I want you to go over there and get that pair of scissors. You know how to use them, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Alright. Go on.”
“What are you doing, Harris?” her mom shouted desperately. “Do not hurt her!”
“I’ll let you choose how things play out,” he said.
Scarlett found the scissors. Picked them up.
Her mom kept crying out, “Please don’t hurt my daughter. I’ll do anything, please. I won’t tell. Please, just let her go.”
“You’ll do anything?”
“Yes, yes. You can do whatever you want to me. Just let her go.”
Millie loved her mom.
She didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. And she wasn’t going to let her die.
No.
Matter.
What.
PART 5
Decreed Stones
In the name of Allah, the Beneficent, the Merciful
Hast thou not seen how the Lord dealt with the possessors of the elephant
[Abraha arrived mounted on a white elephant]
Did He now cause their wars to end in confusion?
And send against them birds in flocks?
Casting at them decreed stones—
So He rendered them like straw eaten up?
—FROM THE HOLY QUR’AN, 105. SURAH AL-FIL
It’s incredibly ironic that the great public health triumph of eradicating smallpox in the 1970s and the discontinuation of worldwide vaccination have opened the door for this virus to be once again used as a weapon.
—FROM THE TRANSCRIPTION OF HISTORY OF BIOTERRORISM:
SMALLPOX, CREATED 11/23/2003, BY CDC BIOTERRORISM
PREPAREDNESS AND RESPONSE PROGRAM.
DATE RELEASED: 7/31/2006.
62
Friday, August 3
6:34 A.M.
Dispersal in 8 hours
Sleep was not my friend.
Christie was on my mind, of course, so every time I woke up during the night, I checked my messages to see if she’d replied to me.
And found that she had not.
Now, I finally rolled out of bed, tired, frustrated, and distracted.
No workout this morning.
Burned side too sore.
I kept thinking of the video of Maria’s death and the fact that Canyon had passed away from the injuries he’d sustained, and of all of those previous victims who’d been killed by a man who, if we were correct, was the same one who had raped Sharyn.
Why did Igazi want the kids there on that night? To set up one of them or one of their parents? To lure Sharyn out? But why would that night have done it? Because of Canyon’s dad?
The case here was definitely taking turns I hadn’t anticipated, branching out like a tree that for some reason was seeking a patch of shade rather than sunlight.
Ralph would be flying in this morning at around nine thirty to pursue the possible connection with Blake and to see if that had anything to do with Maria’s death. If it did, we could be looking at a pandemic that would dwarf anything our country has seen in the last century.
I confirmed that I would pick him up at the airport. We would head to the federal building for a briefing immediately afterward.
As I was eating breakfast, I received the bad news.
Another branch reaching into the darkness.
“Pat,” Detective Schwartz said, “I’m calling from Grandshore Medical Center. I’m down here in the morgue, and we have a bo
dy—one that’s not supposed to be here. You know how we were looking for the resident whose fingerprints matched those found on the hoodie?”
“It’s him?”
“Yeah. Name’s Geoff Dryer. He was shot once in the face, twice in the chest. Close range.”
If he worked in the medical examiner’s office, he would’ve been familiar with the map delineating the police precincts. He also would’ve known how to present a clean crime scene without leaving trace evidence.
If this man was Igazi, what about Dylan? Was he still involved? Was he the man who shot him?
Don’t assume, Pat. Keep your perspective. Avoid the static of preconceptions.
“The reason I called,” Detective Schwartz said, “isn’t just because of the body. It’s because of what we found lying next to it.”
I put two and two together, anticipating that the dead resident was Igazi. “Let me guess. My SIG.”
“The one registered under your name, yeah. And from our initial assessments, it appears to have been the murder weapon.”
Why would Dylan have left it behind? Just to taunt us? It seems sloppy. He’s never done that before.
“See if the prints match those of Dylan Neeson. He’s a felon. He was released this spring from prison, where he was serving time for sexual assault.”
“Gotcha. Will do.”
“Alright, I’m on my way. I can be there in half an hour.”
I grabbed my things and went for the door, but my room phone rang. Although I wasn’t sure how many people had this number, I realized it was possible that Sharyn or Christie might be calling that line, since the call waiting on my cell didn’t always behave and I’d been tied up on it talking with Schwartz.
I picked up and a nervous voice with a catch in it said, “I need you to come down to the lobby, sir. There’s someone here who needs to speak to you.”
“Who is it?”
“He says he’s an old friend, and he says that if you’re not here in thirty seconds, I won’t be either.”
63
Unholstering the Glock, I sprinted to the motel office.
Since we weren’t exactly in the best neighborhood in Detroit, a bulletproof glass window with a small slide-out drawer for transactions separated me from the front desk at the check-in window.
The clerk who stood on the other side of the glass looked petrified. His hands shook noticeably and his eyes flicked to the side.
I followed them, and that’s when I saw the second man, the one standing in the corner of that room, holding a 1911 MC Operator directed at the young clerk’s head.
“Blake,” I said. “It’s been too long.”
“Put your gun in the tray, Patrick,” he replied evenly. “Then slide it through. Your phone too. Do it or he dies.”
I evaluated the situation. Though I wanted to make a move, I did believe that Blake would take this man’s life and there wasn’t anything I could do at the moment to stop him. Even if I were able to somehow break through the glass or get around to the office door in time to stop Blake, it wasn’t worth chancing this guy’s life.
“Okay.” Blake was probably too clever for games and too coldhearted to care, but I needed to at least give it a try. “I’ll send the gun through, but first I need you to let him go.”
“I think I’ll let him stay here until we’re done having our conversation. But—” He pulled out a syringe. “I can’t have him listening in on what we’re talking about.”
The guy saw the needle and cried out, “No, don’t! I’ll—”
But Blake injected him before he could finish.
Whatever was in the syringe was fast-acting and within seconds, the clerk was out, slumping to the floor.
“Don’t worry,” Blake assured me. “If I wanted him dead, he’d be dead. This is just to give us a chance to chat confidentially, but if you make a move, I will put a bullet between his eyes. Now, the gun and your phone.”
I turned my hand so he could see that my finger wasn’t on the trigger, then slowly set the Glock in the tray. “My phone’s in my room,” I said, hoping he wouldn’t call my bluff.
But he did: “So if I dial the number I won’t hear it ring?”
I debated what to do. Somehow, he’d found out I was here at this motel. He had access to the Federal Digital Database, so that could explain how he’d found me. It could also mean that he very likely did have my number.
I placed my cell in the tray beside the gun, then sent both of them through to the other side, where Blake removed them and placed them on the counter.
“Lock the door to the lobby,” he told me. “I don’t want us to be interrupted by anyone passing through.”
After I’d locked it, he told me to hold up my hands where he could see them.
“The Federal Digital Database,” I said. “Is that how you found me?”
“It is. After I realized it was you in the video that was uploaded from the site of Jamika’s murder, it didn’t take long to locate the transfer order from the New York City Field Office for you to come and consult on this case. From there, this motel was easy to find. They’re skimping on your travel allowance, I have to say.”
“What do you want?”
“I have an offer for you.”
“I’m glad you’ve finally decided to turn yourself in. It’s the right thing to do.”
“Actually, I want to turn someone else in.”
“Who’s that?”
“The man you’re looking for. My brother.”
I eyed him. “What did you say?”
“It’s about time you knew who I really am. As careful as I’ve been over the years, at this point, the more you learn about him, the more you’ll find out about me. I’m certain that by the end of the day you would’ve been able to figure out that he’s my adopted brother. But there really isn’t time to get into all of that right now.”
“I saw the photo of you two, from back when he was a kid. Karate.”
“Ah. I know the one.”
“He torched it when he tried to burn me alive.”
Blake was quiet for a moment. “The group that killed Maria is planning to kill more people, many more. I can help you stop them. But I will need something from you in return.”
I shook my head. “No deals.”
“Listen. I have a name. I can get the location. You have the resources to bring in the man who infected Maria, but right now, here in this city, I do not. You can get him. I want him. You can apprehend him without excessive and unnecessary civilian casualties. If I go in, it won’t be pretty and it won’t be surgical. It’ll be big and blunt and messy. Neither you nor I want that. Give me that man and I’ll give you Dylan.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“We both want the same thing here, Pat.”
“And what is that?”
“Justice. We want the guilty to be punished and the innocent to be protected. I have Dylan and I know how to stop Fayed. If you don’t work with me, both will go free and thousands, if not millions of people will die.”
Fayed. Follow up on that name.
“I’m not here to barter with you, Blake.”
“Think about it, Patrick: how could you not? You’ll get everything you want: justice for both Dylan and Fayed. This is the only way that will happen, and it won’t cost you anything.”
“I also want justice for you, Blake.”
“Well, that’s one thing I can’t promise you today.”
I took what he had to say to heart. “You have Dylan?”
“I do. We can’t have my brother out on the streets. You know that. You’ve seen what he’s capable of.”
“So why not just turn him in?”
“Because if I do, Fayed will get away with what he has planned.”
“Then just give us the beta on Fayed�
��wait, you want him to yourself.”
I thought of the connection between Blake and Maria, of how both of them had ties to L.A., and at last it struck me how all of this was tied together. “You loved her.”
“They told me it would be quick. It was not quick.”
“No,” I agreed. “It was not.”
“I’m not going to kill my brother. I raised him. I don’t kill—can’t kill—people I love. And I don’t want him killed in a shootout with some trigger-happy police officers. He needs to be locked up. It’s the safest place for him and for everyone around him.”
I was getting a little irritated by Blake’s talk of love—all of this coming from a man who was involved in human trafficking, who smuggled cocaine into the States to sell to minors, who had his fingers in the illegal arms trade.
“And to you,” I said, “what does that mean, to love someone?” Partly I was interested; partly I was stalling. The longer I kept Blake talking, the longer the clerk stayed alive.
“To serve without feeling that it’s a sacrifice,” Blake replied, without even giving it much thought. “As soon as you want someone to reciprocate your affection, it ceases to be love and becomes an exercise in solipsism. Love is not a mutually beneficial exchange. It is much more than that, or it is nothing at all.”
I needed to give it some more thought, but at least for the moment his definition of love struck me as surprisingly profound. Maybe he really did understand what it was like to love Maria and Dylan.
“What do you gain from all this?” I asked. “How does it benefit you? If you give us Dylan and we give you Fayed, what happens then?”
“Then you keep looking for me. The chase goes on. You know I’m not going to turn myself in, and I know you’re not going to give up the search, so that chapter of our story will still have to play out.”
I knew that my supervisors would never go for a deal like this, but I also knew that sometimes protocol needs to slide to the backseat. It needs to remain a means to an end, not an end in itself.
“If you don’t agree to this,” Blake told me, “I’ll be forced to let Dylan go free, and both he and Fayed will be on the streets. Either lose them both or stop them both. The choice is up to you.”