Broken Angel

by Sigmund Brouwer

  “If only you and me know this, you can get enough men ready just outside the valley. Have them ready this afternoon at three. Send them in choppers.”

  “The Clan will just hide in the mines.”

  “Not this time. I’ll follow the girl underground. I’ll leave markings on the walls for soldiers to follow. Like stringing out a ball of twine. Wherever they take the girl, that’s where they are hiding out.”

  Mason’s skin felt like worms were rippling beneath. He had to escape the darkness, but not until he got what he wanted.

  “What are the GPS coordinates?”

  “I’ll bring some flares in with me. I’ll light them just before going in after the girl. People inside the mountain won’t know soldiers are on the way.”

  “What are the GPS coordinates? I want them now.”

  “And I want the Outside agent dead,” Mason said. “It’s personal.”

  “You’re negotiating with me?”

  “He’s with the sheriff. They’ll hear I went to the factory, and they’ll go too, to find out why. They might learn what I did. Is that what you want? Better that I go into the valley alone, with nobody knowing but you and me.”

  “The sheriff has already put a trace request on your vidpod movements,” Bar Elohim said. “If I block the request, that will raise questions too.”

  “I already solved it.”

  “How?”

  “No,” Mason said. He knew now that he was in a position of strength and preferred to keep his secrets. He might need them again. “That’s my business.”

  “There’s no business in Appalachia beyond my knowledge.”

  “Do I get the Outside agent?”

  Bar Elohim was silent for another moment. “The sheriff will get orders to arrest him. Deliver what I need.”

  “One other thing,” Mason said, still fighting the sensation of rippling worms under his skin. “Think of it as a good trade for you.”

  “You’ve already asked for too much.”

  “No, not if I can deliver the Clan”—Mason paused, knowing he’d saved the biggest bait for last: the leader of the Clan—“and Brij.”

  “What?” The man’s sharp intake of air caused the speakers to crackle.

  “You want him locked in the factory? I can deliver him.”

  “That’s not me offering a trade. That’s a directive.”

  Mason had never failed to follow orders before. “It’s a trade or nothing.”

  “Then you’ll be placed in a factory.”

  “You won’t get Brij. How many years have you had a bounty on him?”

  “What do you want?” Bar Elohim finally asked.

  “Outside.” Mason allowed himself to breathe. “Send me Outside with enough money, and I’ll start hunting down every person that’s ever escaped your leadership and Appalachia.”

  Carney stopped the car at the guarded gate of Factory 22. He shut off the ignition. “Outsiders aren’t allowed inside a factory. My source tells me that Mason spent time with a woman in there. I’ll vidpod my interview with her and let you review it when I get back.”

  Pierce stared out the passenger window. “Sure.”

  Carney’s vidpod vibrated. The pattern told him it was an incoming message from Bar Elohim, so he slipped his earbuds back in. He touched the screen of his vidpod and listened.

  It was a short message. Turn around now. Deliver the agent to me at the church grounds. Make an immediate arrest. No detours. No stops.

  Carney got out. He stretched, then tied his shoe, stalling for a moment to think about the transmission.

  Carney was driving a government car, wired with audio and video. Bar Elohim knew where they were. Was it a coincidence that the message had been delivered before he could get inside the factory and discover why Mason had visited?

  One way to find out. Carney didn’t look back as he walked to the gate.

  The guard gave him a nod of recognition. Factory 22 was Cumberland Gap’s factory, and all the guards knew Carney. Instead of a casual smile, however, the guard remained tight lipped. His eyes met Carney’s only for a second before looking down.

  Carney didn’t have to ask. When Carney had called ahead to arrange the visit, there’d been no problem. Not any longer. The guard’s body language told Carney that the guard had received orders not to let him in. It answered Carney’s question. It wasn’t coincidence that the message from Bar Elohim had come in when it did.

  “I don’t need access to the factory,” Carney said. “Just need to use the phone. Get Larry on the line.”

  The guard’s relief was noticeable and his smile returned. It was all the confirmation that Carney needed. It also meant that putting the factory foreman on the line wasn’t breaking any orders from Bar Elohim.

  Carney didn’t have a long time to speak and, as soon as the foreman was on the phone, launched into it. “Larry, it’s Carney. Do what it takes to find out what Mason Lee wanted from the woman you told me he interviewed. Mason probably made threats to shut her up. You make bigger threats to get her to talk. Record the interview and send it to my vidpod. Get it done in the next five minutes, and I’ll owe you.”

  Carney ended the call. Except for a one-minute delay, he had not disobeyed any orders from Bar Elohim. It was time to get moving. Under direct monitoring all the way, Carney wouldn’t be allowed detours.

  Whatever happened, Carney would no longer be part of the investigation. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to find a way to discuss it with the Outside agent.

  He opened the front passenger door. Pierce’s raised eyebrows were enough of a question.

  “I’ll need to put you in the backseat,” Carney told him. “You’re under arrest.”

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Billy paddled from the back, using hard, steady strokes that seemed effortless but sent the canoe ahead in surges. The river moved slowly, pooled and deep. Caitlyn sat in the center, sideways with her back leaned against the ribs of the canoe. Her back was no longer just hot, it stung in pain. It felt to Caitlyn like it was splitting apart.

  Caitlyn’s sideways position also allowed Billy to see ahead for possible logs or boulders in shallow water. And with a turn of her head in either direction, she could scan ahead for trouble or behind for possible pursuers.

  They had propped Theo in the front, and he seemed to be sleeping peacefully.

  Now that they were far enough downstream from the bridge, Caitlyn took out her vidpod and checked the screen to confirm their progress. She had difficulty seeing the screen. Her vision was blurred by steady tears.

  Papa was dead. Memory after memory bubbled up. Their quiet picnic times. The sense of security she always felt around him. The unconditional love. The pain on his face whenever they were hiding from locals who might discover that Caitlyn was a freak. She just wanted to see Papa’s face again—when it was happy.

  She realized the canoe had stopped the steady surges forward, that the river was silent of splashing. She glanced at Billy. His paddle was paused midair. Water dripped from the end of the paddle into the river.

  Caitlyn leaned her head into her shoulder and wiped away her tears. She saw that he was staring, a look of fear forming on his face.

  Billy’s steady paddling had taken them to where the banks of the river narrowed and the water moved faster. Mature trees grew straight up out of the bank, with branches hanging low over the water.

  Dozens of human skeletons hung on the tree limbs, wisps of clothing attached to the bones.

  They’d reached the outlaw perimeter to the Valley of the Clan.

  Under arrest.

  Pierce wondered what could possibly have happened as he leaned his head against the backseat and closed his eyes, feeling the hum of the car tires.

  He doubted his arrest was Carney’s idea. Why drive to the factory, stop at the gate, and turn around? He noticed Carney slip on the earbuds and listen to his vidpod for a few seconds when they arrived…that must have something to do with this.

  Carney dr
ove past the road into Cumberland Gap and continued to follow the curves of the highway. He didn’t seem to be driving so sedately anymore. Just slowing down whenever there was someone on horseback to pass. He’d plugged his earbuds back in and was obviously listening to a long message on his vidpod.

  Pierce waited until Carney pulled out the earbuds again. “How long till we stop?”

  “Half hour.” Carney spoke through the wire mesh that separated them.

  Half an hour. That answered one question. More than likely Carney was taking Pierce to the Church, his first stop in Appalachia.

  The Church was more than a worship building. It was the name given to a papal compound that overlooked a mountain lake. It was command central for Bar Elohim.

  Pierce wondered if he was being deported, sent back Outside. If so, why had Carney made a point of telling him he was under arrest? Carney knew the car was monitored. Carney wouldn’t lie to Pierce if he knew that what he was saying would reach the ears of Bar Elohim. So Carney was telling the truth.

  Pierce knew he had done nothing to deserve arrest. He was supposed to be protected inside Appalachia during his hunt for the girl, but clearly, the politics had shifted.

  The fact that Carney announced to Pierce that he’d been arrested told him something else. Carney could just as easily have remained silent and simply driven Pierce to the Church.

  Whatever needed discussion, though, wasn’t going to happen inside the monitored car. He’d have to get them both out.

  “Don’t you feel that wobble?” Pierce said. “I think your tire’s flat.”

  “Nope.” He paused, then Pierce saw the sheriff’s eyes open wide in conspiracy. “Hang on…you’re right.”

  Carney slowed the vehicle. At the side of the road, Carney put the car in park. He lowered the rear window on Pierce’s side a few inches. “I don’t want you in here rocking the car while it’s on a jack. Get out. I’ll step around and drop some cuffs through the window. Ankles and wrists. Give me a good look at them when you’re ready.”

  Carney spoke loudly. For the sake of the audio monitor, Pierce assumed.

  Carney walked around the vehicle. Before handing Pierce the cuffs, though, he knelt down to examine the tire. Immediately after, Pierce heard the click of an opening jackknife blade, then hissing air.

  “Definitely going flat.” Carney dropped two sets of cuffs into the back. Pierce did as directed. He showed the sheriff his wrists and ankles, and Carney opened the door.

  Outside, Pierce tried shuffling. The handcuffs around his ankles didn’t have enough slack. He hopped to the shoulder of the road, far enough from the car to avoid audio monitoring.

  Carney moved beside him.

  “Where’s your vidpod?” Pierce asked.

  “Left it on the front seat. Didn’t want it to get in the way of changing a tire.”

  “We’re clear for a private conversation then?” Pierce looked straight ahead at the deep green of the heavy forest.

  “A short one. I need to start on changing the tire.” Carney spoke in a low voice. “Bar Elohim is supporting Mason and not the local law on whatever this chase has become. And since I’ve been pulled out of the loop, it means Mason must be making progress. Don’t know if that does you much good. As you can see, Outside isn’t holding much weight now either.”

  “You still able to track Mason’s vidpod movements from your own vidpod?”

  “First thing I checked. If it had been blocked, that would have told me something.”

  “Where does it show him?” Pierce asked.

  “You’ve got about twenty seconds before you need to get back in the car. Otherwise this is going to look like a conversation.”

  “Where does it show him?”

  “He’s still in the hills behind his cabin.”

  “Wrong.”

  “You got a way to prove that?”

  “Radio chip. Didn’t want him to ambush me. Paid the doctor to mix a radio chip into the plaster of Mason’s cast. I’ve been tracking Mason ever since.”

  Carney didn’t waste any time on surprise. “Where is he now?”

  “If I’m right about your geography, deep in Clan territory. That mean anything to you?”

  THIRTY-SIX

  A single snapped twig gave Mason warning that he was being watched. Then he heard a giggle.

  He spun, the skin on his neck covered with goose bumps.

  Through the rugged valleys, Mason had traveled in two hours what would have taken anybody else six. Silent and efficient as a deer. But as good as he was, outlaws guarded the perimeter of the valley with many of the same skills. Bar Elohim tolerated, even encouraged, their predatory actions as an obstacle to Appalachians seeking a way Outside.

  Still, he’d expected nobody would get near him unless he allowed it.

  To see someone a stone’s throw away, stepping around a tree behind him, was startling enough. To see that it was an attractive girl, barely marrying age, was an even bigger surprise. He trusted she’d been waiting there when he passed her. He didn’t want to think she’d managed to follow him without his knowing it.

  She giggled again. She had dark hair, tied in ponytails. Wide, shining eyes set atop a body equally alluring in tight pants and a partially unbuttoned shirt.

  “A stranger,” she said, showing no fear. “Here in the middle of nowhere. What’s your name, stranger? You are plenty handsome. You lost? I’ve got lots of time.”

  Mason Lee rubbed his face. “Maybe you can help me.”

  The girl was good-looking all right.

  Her smile widened. “Be happy to.”

  “I need to find someone named Brij,” Lee said. “He’s supposed to live somewhere up here.”

  “You’re looking for the Clan?”

  Mason nodded.

  “You’re not in a hurry, are you?” She leaned against the tree. “It gets boring around here. A stranger is an exciting thing for someone like me.”

  Mason’s cast was heavy, and the arm inside it throbbed. He smoothed his mustache with his other hand as studied her. In her face, he saw flashes of a little girl he remembered. “I think you’d enjoy watching a couple of your brothers take the boots to me. Maybe after that, you’d help them strap me to a log.”

  Her eyes narrowed and her face grew hard.

  “So…you going to give me directions to find a man named Brij, or am I on my own again?”

  As a reply, she lifted her hands to her mouth and used her fingers to whistle shrilly.

  Seconds later, two men appeared on the path in front of Mason. Both carried polished clubs.

  “What kind of a welcome is this?” Mason grinned. “You’re all treating me like a stranger.”

  “Mason Lee,” the thin man said, shaking his head. “Got time to come down to the river? We’re getting ready for another floater. He’s been there a couple of days and about to expire anyway.”

  “I’ve always got time for some family-style entertainment.”

  “This is Mason Lee?” The girl shrank back toward a tree trunk.

  “None other. Took me a few minutes to recognize you, little girl,” Mason said. “A man’s got to come home once in a while.”

  Jordan sat on the front porch of a cabin, somewhere deep in the valley. He swayed in a rocker, staring at the horizon, letting his muscles relax. He had a glass of lemonade beside him and sipped from it occasionally, moving his arm slowly to do so, afraid to crack stitches.

  He saw movement in the trees just down the hill. An older man entered the clearing, wearing khakis and a brown shirt. Dark sunglasses with small round lenses. Short gray hair, short gray goatee. A deliberate soft and slow walk.

  Jordan knew him by only one name—Brij. He tried to stand as Brij stepped onto the porch, but the effort hurt too much. Jordan leaned back in the rocker.

  “Welcome home.” Like his movements, Brij’s voice was slow.

  “It’s good to see you, Brij,” Jordan said. “I expected to be in a factory. Or dead, but never
here again.”

  “After all you’ve done for us…” Brij sat on a rocker beside Jordan. “We couldn’t tell you ahead of time. Or even warn you about the coffin. It’s hard to hold back information if they give you pharmaceuticals.”

  “Caitlyn…” Jordan lost his voice to the emotion he could barely contain.

  “Her vidpod location shows us that she’s made it into the valley,” Brij said. “I put the word out among the outlaws. As long as she doesn’t offend them, I expect she’ll be at the GPS coordinates today. Three o’clock. I promise I’ll be there waiting for her.”

  At the river, Mason saw a small, naked man, arms wrapped and tied around the circumference of a floater log set upright.

  The base of the log rested on the ground and was short enough for the man’s chin to rest on it, with his chest firmly pressed into the bark of the log by the pressure of the bindings that held him to it. His mouth was gagged.

  “He didn’t have much to take,” the girl said. “But he sure was in a hurry to give me something.”

  She walked over and slapped the man’s butt, obviously showing off for Mason. “Next time, you don’t try stuff like that on a girl you find in the woods.” She giggled. “Oops, never mind, there won’t be a next time.”

  She pushed the log, and it toppled the man over. A muffled cry of pain escaped the gag.

  “Anyone going to help me?” she asked her two brothers and Mason.

  “You’re doing fine, Sis.” The red-headed brother didn’t look up when he spoke, picking at dead skin on his hand with a penknife.

  “Jessie Cutter, you are all grown up from when I last saw you, but still barely bigger than a twig.” Mason helped her roll the log toward the river, with the log thumping the man every revolution. He knew what would happen next. Once the man was in the river, his own weight would roll him under the log, under the surface of the water. Well before the log had floated a hundred yards downstream, he would be drowned. His body would eventually be found at the dam, still tied to the log.

  Just another floater.