He arrived at his destination. Across the entranceway to a tomb directly in front of him lay a rock barrier with a family inscription MORGAN chiseled into it. The carefully sculpted rock was obviously carved to approximate the Son’s tomb but the family would whistle long and hard before that pile of dust inside resurrected itself, thought Adramelech. The barrier weighed almost a ton.
The Beast grasped the rock and easily pulled it aside. He entered the 12 X 12 foot room where a cement sarcophagus rested on a simple stone shelf.
Rosalita sat in a corner slowly rocking back and forth in a vain attempt to find comfort. He smiled at her, lips drawing back over carnivorous, dead white teeth. Over the years when he’d roamed the South American continent, his ability to shape shift from the grotesque to almost human form had served him well as it did now. In the dusk he had easily moved among humans without experiencing more than the occasional second look followed by a wave of confused revulsion on the looker’s face. He could more than pass now and that was enough. Still, when there was the devil’s work to be done, he happily resumed his natural shape and became the stuff of nightmares.
His small familiar continued to gaze at him trying to anticipate his needs; the dull lifeless look in her eyes said she awaited his pleasure.
“We leave soon to go elsewhere, Rosalita,” he said aloud, his voice low and modulated.
She stared at him and nodded without ceasing her rocking. Finally she stopped for a few seconds. “Will it be warm?” she asked.
The Beast smiled at her and asked: “Why do you ask that? You feel neither heat nor cold. You are of the dead.”
She nodded once more and began rocking again. “Will I ever be warm again?”
“Oh yes, my dear” he said with a horrible grin. “When our work is finished and we join the Anointed One I can promise you that you will be warm forever.”
He loomed over her and then turned and stared at the darkness outside of the tomb. The girl tried to anticipate his needs.
“What is your will?” She prepared to rise.
“To sleep and then leave you for the night. I have much to do before we go to our home again.”
Rosalita sat back down and with hollow eyes began her rocking once more. Deep in the recesses of her consciousness, far-off memories of belonging, of love and of security danced like will-o-wisps just beyond her grasp. But within her limited senses she knew any independent thought was forbidden and would be harshly dealt with if discovered. She would stay with her Master until his work was done. Then perhaps he would free her from her immortality and she could sleep.
~ 4 ~
Back at the hotel, Clay had arranged for Hertz Rental to deliver another car. It would arrive within an hour, a cheery attendant promised, but Clay said they were in no hurry; he was at a loss as to what they would do when it arrived anyhow. Obviously there would be no more trips to Highgate. Maria had informed Malachi the previous night of their adventure and his orders had been to stay away from the cemetery. It had been searched by their own team of assassins.
More and more questions arose in his mind: Why was Cruickshank being so generous? In particular, why had he returned the revolver? Who were the military types that he was talking with at the cemetery? Now that they knew this fiend was somewhere near Highgate Cemetery, was his job over?
So far he had let Maria handle any communications with Malachi but he did have his cell phone number and the cardinal had promised it would be answered at any time of the day or night. Right now, he was also worried about the dangers of trying to find this “thing” as far as Maria was concerned. His feelings for her were growing exponentially and he wasn’t about to let her get hurt. Time to address that issue he decided. He would call the cardinal while she was downstairs picking up a newspaper. He dialed the number and waited as it rang. Abruptly a click launched a voice mail response but that was soon interrupted.
“Malachi....”
“It’s Clay Montague, Your Eminence.”
“Hello Clay,” came back the voice, now slightly guarded. “How are you...and by the way...this is not a secure line. How about I get to a land line and call you back. This is your cell line I presume?”
Clay said yes and within minutes his cell phone rang again. He punched the receive button.
“That’s better,” Malachi said. “Your cell also has a custom encryption device built in.”
“You know what happened?” Clay asked.
“Of course...you met our friend.”
“Only temporarily,” answered Clay. “He left abruptly but a police officer was murdered along the way.”
“Not your fault.”
“Agreed, but what now? Is this over?”
“He hasn’t been located yet.”
“He’s here in London somewhere around Highgate Cemetery.”
“We need his lair...where he spends his time when he isn’t terrorizing people.”
“Is this wise?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“Sir, I have a concern.”
“I would be surprised if you hadn’t,” Malachi answered. And more kindly: “What is it?”
“Maria. I don’t think she should be involved in this.”
There was silence at the end of the phone. Finally he spoke: “She is there to help you, Clay.”
“I don’t need her help. I can find this guy on my own, thanks very much.”
“You do need her help. As I told you, she senses the evil in this thing. Sometimes she sees the future. So she can give warning and you can call us and have time to escape.”
“Well that didn’t work out too well the other night.”
“I understand that. It wasn’t her fault; he arrived too soon.”
“I’m worried and I don’t want her harmed. Maria is just...baggage.” He genuinely tried to make it sound as though she was getting in his way.
“Remember the protocols we developed?” Cardinal Malachi asked. “The ones where she will be able to contact us if you are injured. And vice versa. It’s all about time...time to get our people to where it is to get a crack at this thing. Maria can buy us that time.”
“At the expense of her life? I’m putting her on a plane back to Rome this evening.”
Malachi laughed, but not too unkindly. “I’d like to see that. She has quite the spirit and is committed to helping us any way she can, Clay.”
“Well as far as I’m concerned, Maria isn’t risking her life anymore. I want you to call her off and I’ll do whatever you need done.”
There was silence at the other end of the phone again and Clay took that as a sign Malachi was considering his offer. He was wrong. “Clay, it’s Sister Maria. You understand that? We really can’t get into interpersonal relationships here. That isn’t what’s happening, is it?”
“All I want is for her to be away from this area, Your Eminence. If that guy, or thing, had grabbed her through the windshield last night, he’d have killed her.”
“Look Clay, I understand your feelings. Nor am I without concern for both your safety. However, when you consider how close we are and what’s at stake, we have to proceed. At any cost.”
“Sir, you tell me that if we dial a certain number on our cell phone, this ‘hit’ team or whatever you call it...will come to where we are.”
“The Crusaders...yes.”
“So if I find it, I call. Why does Maria–?”
He was interrupted as the door opened and Maria stepped through with two cardboard coffee cups and a newspaper under her arm. Her eyebrows went up and she mouthed: “Who?”
“Clay...are you still there?”
“Yes sir.”
“Is Sister Maria there?”
“Yes...right here.”
“May I speak with her?”
“Certainly...but what about my concern?”
“I think we’ll keep the status quo for now. Don’t worry. Sister Maria can take care of herself.”
Clay reluctantly handed the phone to Maria who h
ad set the coffee down on the roll-top desk and was approaching, a quizzical look on her face.
“Cardinal Malachi,” he said shortly, and stalked over to read the newspapers headlines as he half listened to the conversation.
“Yes, Your Eminence?” She listened for a few minutes nodding, occasionally glancing at Clay. Then she thanked the cardinal and hung up. “So you think you’d be better off alone?”
“That’s not the point, Maria...”
“Sister Maria,” she said pointedly, staring him down.
Oh no, he thought. What had Malachi said to her? Had he voiced his suspicions on Clay’s feelings for Maria? He felt himself reddening. “I just don’t want you hurt. And after what happened last night, I can see that we’re chasing a very capable madman. Or maybe something much worse.”
She came over to him, placed a hand on his arm and gave him an earnest look. “I don’t want you hurt neither, Clay. At the risk of sounding trite, this is something that is bigger than both of us. And, we were told it wasn’t without risks.”
“I know, but I can find this guy by myself. Why risk two lives?”
“Because I’m your support. That’s why I’m here.”
“Alright, they believe you can help but have you ever asked yourself why they would bring me half way round the world? None of it adds up. I don’t buy the fact that I’m here simply because I saw something in Panama. Or, that the Vatican is giving me a chance to avenge Hitch and Jody. There are thousands of PIs or soldiers of fortune who would be just as capable of tracking this thing for a price.” Clay paused, sighed and then sat down heavily on the bed.
“What is it?” Maria asked.
“Nothing,” he said, the pieces finally falling into place. He felt sick to his stomach, not with fear but with disappointment.
“Look....” Maria began.
“Something...” he interrupted and then stopped. He shook his head.
Maria suddenly looked embarrassed. Crestfallen she sat down beside him, her face ashen. She also looked sick.
“I’m here because I’m bait,” Clay said. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
Maria shook her head in dismay and stared at the carpet. Finally she nodded. “One of the known characteristics of Adramelech is that he hunts down those who see him in his original form and eliminates them,” she said in a small voice. “The greatest power for Satan is that people don’t believe he exists. And, Adramelech maintains his anonymity by not leaving any witnesses, any loose ends.” Her voice was trembling.
“And I’m a loose end,” Clay agreed. “And, you’ve known all along.”
She turned towards him, tried to take his hands in hers, her eyes pleading. He drew back and wouldn’t let her say anything. Instead he stood up and headed for the door. He felt angry and hurt. It seemed that while he was deeply in love with Maria, to her and the rest of the cast in this lunatic play he was merely a means to an end. He was a pawn.
“At least I’m now clear on my value,” he said, bitterly. “As a Judas Goat, I mean.”
“Clay...I’m so sorry,” Maria called desperately as he approached the door and yanked it open. “Wait, please!”
He turned his back on her but then paused and said: “No wonder he attacked us in the cemetery, Sister Maria. We’re not hunting him. He’s hunting me.”
He exited, slamming the door.
Maria sunk down on the edge of the bed and began to cry.
~ 5 ~
“The inevitable end to a dream assignment,” First Officer Gostini spoke as the aircraft stopped its backward motion and the pushback tractor was detached. He looked out at the rapidly setting sun. It was going to be a nice evening; stars were already appearing in the deep purple sky over a band of orange and gold on the western horizon over the seven hills of Rome. He double-checked that the start levers were at idle, the stabilizer trim was checked and set, and electrical, standby and galley power all checked out as normal. Engine number one was up and Bowden started engine number two. They droned on through the check list ensuring bleed valves were open, hydraulics were normal, the door lights were checked out, the APU was checked as stopped, and brake pressure was normal.
“Taxi instructions, please,” Bowden asked, as he surveyed the instruments one last time.
“Charter 104, taxi clearance, over?” Gostini said, into his headset.
Ground control came back immediately: “Charter 104, taxi via Delta, hold short of Charlie. Give way to the Pan Am 747 on your left, follow him for runway thirty-four right.”
“Roger, follow Pan Am and taxi via Delta to hold short of Charlie...thank you, sir.”
As the Pan Am flight passed, Bowden released the brakes and advanced the throttles with his right hand while steering the aircraft with his left. The sound of the engines smoothly spooling up gave way as the aircraft began to sluggishly move forward and they bumped along the taxiway in their short journey towards runway 34 right. They continued calling out the before-takeoff check list to each other as they taxied.
“Takeoff flaps, two selected, two indicated...” Bowden said.
“Affirmative....” Answered Gostini
“Speed brakes...Armed...”
“Affirmative...”
“Flight controls...”
“Checked....”
“Takeoff Memo...”
“Go,” responded Bowden confirming all checks had been completed as A-Okay.
Pressurization was checked and set, and they droned on through the checklist as though this was a first flight. Their routine was broken momentarily as Ground Control contacted them once more. “Charter 104, proceed and follow Pan Am and contact the tower at one eighteen point seven, holding short of taxiway Charlie.”
Gostini keyed his microphone: “Roger, contact tower one eighteen point seven. holding short of Charlie...good day.” He selected the tower frequency and let them know they were with them. He was told they were number two, after Pan Am.
“So we turn this baby in at United at JFK and that’s it?” asked Gostini with a lopsided smile. No thank you...no gold watch?”
“Apparently one of the New York dioceses has arranged for the aircraft to be stripped of its medical equipment and other stuff first,” Bowden said. “And the cardinal also asked me to thank you and said there would be a letter of reference for each of us as well as a bonus check, and an open overseas ticket waiting for us in New York in three days. He examined a small clipboard in hand. “We can pick them up at the Opus Dei building on Lexington Avenue in Manhattan any time after the 3rd.”
“Great,” Gostini said without much enthusiasm. “Two unemployed pilots.”
“Not quite....”
“No?”
“No...the cardinal said he’d set up interviews for us both with Alitalia if we’re interested. He said he was pretty certain we’d be taken on although we’ll have zero seniority. What do you think?”
“Better than unemployment....I’m game. You?” Gostini sounded brighter.
“Thinking about it. It’ll depend on convincing the wife to live in Rome. And I think I can. Susan is such a sport. Not many other wives would put up with their husbands being away so much.”
“Charter 104, after departing Pan Am, line up and hold thirty-four right,” the tower ordered with a burst of static.
Gostini acknowledged the instructions and within a few minutes, the 747 in front of them was rumbling down the runway and they moved into position on the threshold and held. They completed the takeoff check list.
“Charter 104, cleared for takeoff. Wind two five zero at fifteen.”
Bowden and Gostini placed their hands on the throttles and advanced them both towards the stops. The aircraft began picking up speed at about 4 knots per second. The ASI became effective and the instrument needles on both Bowden and Gostini’s panels jumped.
“Airspeed building,” Gostini called.
As they hit 80 knots, the rudder took hold and Gostini called it out. Bowden transferred his left hand to the stick
and continued steering with the rudders.
“I have control,” Bowden said.
“Your column,” Gostini acknowledged.
Their speed built until Gostini called out V-1. The aircraft was now committed to flight and Bowden moved his right hand from the throttles; Gostini assumed control of the engines. A moment later the co-pilot called out “rotate” and Bowden pulled gently back on the joystick and the aircraft lifted into the sky and climbed quickly.
“Gear up,” Bowden ordered and Gostini reached for the lever in front of them and pulled it up to retract the wheels. They heard the whine and thumps as the wheels settled in the wells and the doors closed.
“Charter 104 Heavy, call departure one three zero point nine,” the tower radioed.
“Charter 104, good day,” Gostini responded. “Departure, Charter 104 passing one thousand three hundred.”
“Good evening, Charter 104, climb and maintain six thousand on reaching.”
“Charter 104, maintain six thousand.”
“Climb power,” Bowden said, easing the nose down 10 degrees to allow for the power reduction and Gostini obliged by easing the throttles back to the climb power setting indicated on the EPR limit indicator. Bowden then lowered the nose a little further. “Flaps five degrees.”
“Flaps five, set,” Gostini said.
They were at 2,000 feet now, barely climbing but still accelerating. At 7 DME on their assigned radial, Gostini called out the distance to Bowden and he turned the aircraft right to track using the automatic direction finding needles on the radio magnetic indicator pointing towards the beacon. When they hit 225 knots they retracted the flaps in two stages and continued climbing towards 6,000 feet. Gostini told departure they were out of five for six thousand and they were again asked to maintain six thousand. The three-dimensional chess game being played by the flight controllers necessitated that they control and move hundreds of other aircraft safely through the skies.
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