Decker wondered if any of them would ever reach their majority.
After Bolt and the deprogrammer gave their respective affidavits, Lauren was led to a trailer to rest while indemnity papers were being drawn up. The legal phraseology alone would take hours, the lawyer speak needing to be exact. She'd have to acknowledge the dangers - disclosed and undisclosed - in the operation. She'd be required to sign a stack of papers, waiving her rights to sue the city or any individuals associated with the raid should she undergo any sort of harm - either physical or mental be it loss of limb or life. Decker kept hoping Bolt would get cold feet. But as time passed, she became more resolute, determined to rescue her kids.
Asnikov was free to go, but he had elected to stay on. He wore a white button-down shirt, most of it covered by a gray cable knit sweater, and black pants. On his feet were black socks and rubber-soled shoes. Staring at the compound, he chewed gum, snapping it loudly. Even so, his jaw muscles were working much harder than necessary.
The deprogrammer said, 'Lauren's a great girl, but she's foolhardy.'
"The impetuous nature of youth,' Decker said. 'We old farts take meetings, she just goes in and does it.'
'I never thought she'd make it.' Asnikov's eyes were directed forward. 'It ate at me... her being there and my inability to help her. In the beginning, we talked about implanting communication devices on her body. In the end, she decided against it. She was completely on her own.'
'She never tried to get hold of you?'
'The parishioners don't have access to phones. And even if she could have pilfered one, it would have been too dangerous to call. They monitor everything.' He looked at Decker. 'I told her not to do it. But I'm glad she did. She succeeded where I had failed.'
'She was lucky,' Decker said. 'But this time is different. They're going to be looking for infiltrators. It's one thing to escape the compound, another to raid and liberate it.'
'Agreed,' Asnikov said. 'Why don't you stop her?'
Decker clenched his jaw. 'If I had known she was going to pull a stunt like this, I would have had her arrested in the beginning. Now, it's out of my hands.'
Asnikov's expression remained flat. 'You're against the raid?'
In its present form, Decker was very much against the raid. But he didn't comment.
Asnikov said, 'Lauren once told me she was part cat. That's why she moves so quietly. Hope she's right because she could use nine lives.' He shook his head. "Three of us versus one hundred plus of them. Some odds. All we have is the element of surprise.' He smiled. 'Lauren saved you the bother of subpoenaing my files.'
'Saved you the bother of us sorting through your cases,' Decker answered back.
'It wouldn't have mattered to me. Sure I have office files. But most of the important info is filed up here.' He pointed to his temple. 'When are they planning to go in?'
Decker said, 'I don't know.'
'You're being sly.'
'No, I'm not. I don't have an ounce of guile in me at the moment. Too damn tired.'
Asnikov nodded with understanding. He said, 'In a way, I'm jealous of Lauren. Wish it were me going in.'
'Hero's complex, Asnikov?'
'Bet your ass. Every time I free up a human soul, I feel real good about it. Sure beats that sick and helpless feeling you get when the camera pans across your dead sister. This should be sweet revenge if you can pull it off.' He tightened his jaw and the muscle swelled. 'I'd give anything to liberate that concentration camp!'
The comparison wasn't exactly parallel. But it wasn't far off the mark. A maniacal leader with three murdering henchmen, and a pedophile as the resident doctor. Just multiply the numbers and it could have been the SS.
Sweet revenge if you can pull this off, Decker thought. A big if.
He looked at Asnikov, whose eyes were far-off stars in a distant galaxy. His posture was rigid, his face had gone hard. His jaw was chomping hard and loud, but there was no sound of snapping gum. Instead, it had been replaced with the rasping noise of enamel gnashing against enamel.
Awakened by the harsh ring of the phone, Decker startled, then bolted up. Like a fireman called into action, he jump-started into immediate action. He looked at McCarry, then at the communications expert, Special Agent Jan Barak. She gave the silent countdown on her fingers. Then with precise timing, Decker picked up the receiver.
Bob said, 'What're you doing out there, Lieutenant?'
Without missing a beat, Decker answered, 'Not much, Bob. What are you doing in there?'
'I just took a terrific nap. Feel better than ever. How about yourself?'
'I'm fine.'
'You don't sound fine. You sound tired. They don't give you much in the way of a break, do they?'
'I like doing my job, Bob. Protect and serve. That's our motto.'
'Well said, Lieutenant Decker. Because we all have jobs to do. It's cosmically ordained by the universe. Take a look at the planetary motion of our own solar system. Everything's in perfect gravitational balance. Perfect orbits until some giant meteor or comet comes along and knocks everything off-kilter. Then there's that old entropy again rearing its ugly head. Total chaos. You understand what I'm saying.'
'Keep the status quo. I'm with you, brother.'
'No, I don't think you are, Lieutenant.' A pause. 'Well, maybe you are, but some of your workmen have other ideas. Because we're noticing some movement out there... we can see you mapping out the perimeter of our home. From the front to the back... from our public entrances to our back doors in the brush of the mountains.'
'Sure it's us? There are lots of creatures out there.'
'I'm not worried about the pumas. I'm talking about the two-legged creatures. For the dark, we've got infrared scope on our rifles. You want to be sitting ducks, it's up to you.'
'I hear you.'
'I'm still not sure that you do,' Bob insisted. 'Tell them we've got weapons with fantastic ranges. I mean I just I don't get it, Decker. Why would any man volunteer to be target practice?'
Decker said, 'I'll find out what's going on.'
'Lieutenant, I know what's going on. Are they keeping you in the dark?'
'What do you want me to tell them?'
'Just what I'm telling you. I'm giving you fair warning, Decker. The most holy Order of the Rings of God considers anything that invades our personal space up for grabs. It doesn't matter if you come in the front or back door, get my drift.'
'You hold the top cards, Bob. We've known that from the beginning.'
'So why are they fucking with me? Don't they believe me? Do they need a demonstration?'
'No, Bob, that's not necessary-'
'I'll give them one if you hold on. Honey, come over here for a sec'
'Bob, don't-'
A deafening blast over the line. Decker dropped the phone and jumped back, holding his ears as cannons shot through in his brain and fireworks exploded through his optic nerve. Staggering on his feet while his heart drummed against his sternum. Someone touching him.
He whirled around, teetered, then tried to focus.
Jan Barak looking at him with worried eyes. She was talking to him, but he couldn't hear a damn thing. McCarry, too. The agent was mouthing silent fucks.
A deep breath... trying to turn the head volume from multi-forte to just plain forte. Eyes darting about, he spied the fallen phone and picked it up, gingerly placing it against his right ear as his head screamed in protest.
Into the receiver, he said, 'Bob, are you there?' Silence. His own words had been miked with reverb, everything echoing inside his skull. 'Bob?'
McCarry slapped his forehead. Barak appeared to be talking to him. Decker ignored them and tried again. 'Bob, are you with me. guy?'
No response. Then McCarry's voice, though hushed, became suddenly audible. '... line's dead.'
'Oh.' Decker hung up. 'Man, that smarted.'
McCarry was still talking, '... to a doctor-'
'I'm fine-'
'Decker-'
; 'I can hear you, can't I?' He knew he was shouting by the feeling in his throat. Certainly not by the sound of his voice. To his own ears, he sounded muffled. For the most part he could hear although McCarry sounded as if he were speaking inside a belfrey. 'Give me a few minutes, I'll be fine-'
'Decker, don't be an ass, you've got...'
But his words were fading out. The agent ended his speech by mouthing the word, bastard.
Decker felt an upsurge in his gut, the world spun about him. He sat back in his chair, threw his head between his knees. Barak came over, touched his shoulder. He let her hand remain there for a moment, then he sat back up, his eyes landing on one of the van's perimeter monitors.
'Look!' he pointed upward.
All eyes followed.
The Order's front door had opened just wide enough to eject the body. It arced upward, then landed ten feet from the entrance, laying like broken marionette with tangled strings. A frail frame in a long dress. Probably a woman even though its entire head was wrapped up in several towels. Very wet towels soaking up copious amounts of blood. Decker could discern that the cloth was saturated even though the monitor was black and white.
Definitely a woman. But who?
Because Lord only knew what her face looked like.
Crouching in the brush, Marge felt her thighs bunch as she froze stock-still. Looking and listening. Throughout the night, there had been random shots coming from the small windows that lined the Order's main gathering halls. Nothing organized, but enough to get the adrenaline going. The task force had talked about hurling canisters of tear gas through glass, but over the past twenty-four hours, the cult members had covered most of the panes with wooden planks.
Again, she glanced around, checking over her shoulder. The only sounds were nocturnal voices of nature, everything appearing calm. But how quickly that could change. Forced to play the interminable waiting game. A second, then two... three... four... counting slowly... slowly.
Garbed in nylon camouflage fatigues and thick boots, she knew most of the perspiration pouring off her forehead was coming from tension and fear. Because the night was cool and the clothes were lightweight. Still, she sweated - on her face, under her arms, between her legs, rivulets running down her thighs and calves. She dabbed her forehead with her sleeve at the rim of her miner's hat.
More waiting... twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-ei-
An owl hooted, then swept down from the trees, rustling branches as it nosedived to the ground. Moments later, it soared upward with a wiggling field mouse in its talons. Highlighted against a three-quarter moon, it flew across the sky, its wings cutting through the air. While still in flight, it plucked the mouse from its claws with its beak, held it there, then landed on an ghoulish oak tree twenty yards down. Moments later, the mouse was carrion.
Marge's heart hammered against her chest. The bird's sudden movements could bring unwanted attention to their operation. Quickly, she pulled back sharply twice on the rope tied around her waist - the stop signal to the others.
Tugs answered her back.
Then nothing.
Start all over, Dunn. One, two, three, four...
They had decided to use the rope for messages because it was far less noisy than two-way radios. Of course, they had the boxes for backup.
As a matter of fact, they had everything - dried food, water in pouches, locating devices, communication devices, protective gear, flashlights, ammunition with regular scopes and infrared scopes, grenades and mace. The gear loaded Marge down, made trampling silently through the brush even more difficult. But she did what was necessary.
Several more minutes passed. Then she felt a Morse Code pull against her waist - two long and one short. Lauren was requesting to go forward. Marge passed the message down to Special SWAT Agent Elise Stone. From the rear, she received the sign to proceed. Marge forwarded it to Lauren.
A big game of telephone. Hoping that, unlike the childhood diversion, the signals stayed true.
Another step forward. Another stop.
And so it went. For what seemed like hours.
In fact, it took Marge a full two hours to traverse a mile.
To the others, Lauren whispered, 'We're going to have to drop the electronic junk. They have lots of homing devices, being paranoid and all. We can't afford to risk it. We're also going to have to leave behind the heavy stuff. You two are pretty large. You'll never make it through the tunnel all bulked up like that.'
Elise Stone was a couple inches shorter than Marge, but also thick-boned. Her short blonde hair peeked from her miner's hat. 'We'll remove our bullet vests. But you keep yours on.'
'I can't move in it. I feel like a mummy.'
'Lauren,' Marge whispered. 'You're the front person, the first one in. You have to be protected. You're a small girl. Just do
'I'll sweat to death.'
'You'll sweat, but you won't die,' Elise answered. 'Where's the entrance?'
"The boulder you're standing next to.'
Elise looked down and to her left. Her face registered surprise. 'How'd you lift that thing?'
'I didn't lift it, I rolled it millimeters at a time. Back then, the one thing I had was time.'
Elise tried to heft it. 'Thing must weigh five hundred pounds. Where's the crowbar?'
Marge pulled the tool out of her knapsack. She wedged it between the granite and the ground. 'This is where we use that leverage thing.'
'What time is it?' Elise asked.
'Two-fifteen.'
'When is sunup?'
'Six-thirty.'
'Jesus, that's not good,' Elise said. 'We'd better haul ass. Lauren, out of the way.'
The young girl moved aside.
Elise grabbed the middle part of the crowbar, Marge held on to the tip. On the count of three, they exerted maximum force, heaving down on the metal pole, pushing so hard they grunted. The solid orb of stone rolled inches. The two cops exchanged glances.
'Do the rocks in these mountains have a high metal content?' Elise puffed.
'Just keep going,' Marge said.
'Keep going,' Elise echoed.
A half hour later, two thirds of the opening to the tunnel was exposed. Drenched in sweat, Elise said to Marge, 'I think I can make it through. What about you? You're the biggest of us. Can you fit down there?'
Marge dropped to the ground and inched in head-first. Immediately, her shoulders caught.
She surveyed the situation. 'I think if I wiggle my shoulders from side to side, I could probably clear it eventually.' She raised her body back to a standing position, feeling strong and fit. All those years of push-ups and sit-ups had finally served a practical purpose.
Elise began re-tightening the rope around her waist. 'Then let's do it.'
Marge said, 'First, we should wedge the boulder so it doesn't roll back and cover the opening.'
Elise made a face. 'Be nice if I had a brain.'
The two cops worked together. After the boulder was safely rooted, they did a checklist for the final time as they secured the rope around their bodies. They left their backpacks at the opening, taking out only what was necessary - miner's cap, a flashlight, bottled water, a small canister of supplemental oxygen and a semiautomatic with magazines. Adjusting the surgical mask over her nose, Marge regarded Lauren's covered face. 'Sure you're up for this?'
'Definitely.'
'Are you ready?'
'Ready as I'll ever be.'
"Then go for it, girlfriend.'
Lauren hugged Marge with force. Then, without hesitation, she dropped to her belly, turned on her miner's hat and crawled down into darkness. Seconds passed, then a full minute. The opening became darker and darker until Lauren's hat light became nothing more than a raindrop of illumination. Finally, Marge felt the tug around her waist.
'Time to go.'
Elise said, 'Good luck, Dunn.'
'Best wishes to you, too, Stone.'
Marge made final adjustments to her mask, then crept into the ground
. Immediately, her upper body was wedged between the dirt opening and the boulder still blocking part of the tunnel's entrance. Marge shifted her shoulders to the right, then to the left, cramming her body down the shoot. She kept repeating the motions until the soil about her torso loosened, giving her that extra needed millimeter of free space. She felt herself slide through the adit, and moments later, she was encased in a dark, moldy channel.
Faye Kellerman - Decker 11 - Jupiter's Bones Page 34