by Steve Berry
“Yet you have none.”
“I have this gun. I have my enemy on her knees. I have the rest of you at my mercy.”
“You elders of Israel, have you not entered into a covenant with God that you never would betray one another? A covenant not to speak against the anointed.” He was quoting more of what he’d read, a statement made by one of the early church elders.
“Every Saint pledges that,” Salazar said. “We must stay together. We draw our strength from being together.”
“Yet you were surrounded by liars,” Stephanie said.
SALAZAR TRIED TO KEEP REALITY IN FOCUS, BUT TOO MUCH assaulted him. Luckily the angel had remained, watching, staying silent, allowing him time to think. He was angry at everyone, Cassiopeia included. Elder Rowan lay on the ground, his body still, almost certainly dead.
“Shedding human blood is necessary for the remission of sin,” the angel said. “The apostle sinned. He is with Heavenly Father now, happy, and will thank you one day. His tortured soul could only be saved through the shedding of his blood.”
He felt comforted by the knowledge.
Still, Rowan had been a chosen man.
Had he done wrong atoning him?
“Don’t be alarmed if there be curiosities in Zion. If I wished to find the best men in the world, I should go to Zion to find them. If I wished to find the biggest devil, I would also look in Zion. For among the people of God there I can find the greatest scamps.”
Which surely explained Rowan’s betrayal.
What now? he asked in his head, staring at the apparition.
His enemy still knelt before him.
“She must be atoned.”
He agreed.
“All of them must be atoned.”
Including Cassiopeia?
“Her most of all. She betrayed you to our enemies.”
“Salazar.”
Malone’s voice jarred him from the vision.
“It’s done.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is,” Cassiopeia said.
He swung the gun her way. “Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that. You have not earned the right to pass judgment on me, or anyone else.”
“Are you going to shoot me?” she asked.
“Atone her.”
“I can’t,” he called out. “I can’t.”
STEPHANIE WAS CONCERNED FOR CASSIOPEIA. SALAZAR WAS now not only seeing things, he was talking to them. There was no telling what he would do next. She assumed Luke and Cotton had things under control. They’d freely shed their weapons, which meant that at least one of them was still armed. She’d noticed how Cotton stayed close to Luke, keeping him to his right, in front of him, never far away.
That could not be unintentional.
And thankfully, in his present state Salazar was incapable of noticing anything.
CASSIOPEIA TOOK A STEP TOWARD JOSEPE.
He reacted by re-aiming the gun her way, his eyes alight with rage.
“Remember when we were young,” she said, her voice low. “When we were together. When you first loved me.”
“I think of it every day.”
“Those were innocent times. We can’t ever go back to them, but we can have something new and different. Lay down your gun and give this up.”
“The prophet commands me to fight.”
“There is no prophet here.”
“I wish you could see him. He’s so beautiful, bathed in light, full of goodness. He has never led me astray.”
“Josepe, they won’t hurt you if you’re unarmed.”
“They can’t hurt me.”
She stared at Cotton and the younger man. “I’m afraid they can. They’re just waiting for the chance to kill you.”
Not a hint of fear filled any of the eyes that watched her. Instead she read calculation in the cool gazes that came from all three professionals. Josepe was no match for them. They knew it. He didn’t.
“Please,” she said. “I beg you. None of them will shoot an unarmed man.”
Josepe seemed puzzled.
“Don’t you see,” she said. “They came here to kill you. Neither you, nor Rowan, was going to leave here alive.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because it was her job to lead you here,” Stephanie said.
LUKE CRINGED AT STEPHANIE’S WORDS. ON HER KNEES, WITH no weapon, but still on the offensive. Gotta give it to her. He formed a new respect for his boss.
“She’s only trying to antagonize you,” Cassiopeia said. “She can’t, if you lay down the weapon and surrender.”
“You have no power over me any longer.”
“Josepe, you have to listen. These people know what they’re doing. You’re not in control.”
“They don’t seem like a problem to me,” Salazar said. “Killing them would be easy.”
“Then do it,” Luke said.
“I might just blow your knees away and let you live as a cripple the rest of your life. That’s what you deserve. Death may be too good for any of you.”
“Does that include me?” Cassiopeia asked.
“Your thoughts are impure. Your motives tainted. You played with me years ago, and again over the past few days. So yes, it includes you.”
MALONE SPIED THE DISTANCE BETWEEN HIS RIGHT HAND AND the gun nestled at Luke’s spine. Eighteen inches. Tops. It rested facing away, making it easy for his hand to secure a grip. But that had to be done quickly and carefully, signaling nothing to Salazar. Cassiopeia had read their intentions. Thankfully, Salazar was confused enough to not know exactly who to believe.
“Josepe,” Cassiopeia said. “I want you to lay the gun down and come with me. You and I can work this through.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. We’ll figure it out. Don’t make it any worse. There’s no escaping here.”
Salazar chuckled. “You underestimate me. My two men are out there waiting. I think this is all of the government we’re going to see. I would imagine if there were more we would have seen them already.”
Salazar aimed the gun at Stephanie.
Cassiopeia stepped in between, daring him to fire.
Malone’s hand eased toward the gun.
“I’m not going to allow you to do this,” Cassiopeia said. “You’re going to have to shoot her through me.”
“I feel nothing for you,” Salazar made clear. “Not anymore.”
SALAZAR FOUGHT TO KEEP HIS COMPOSURE.
“She should expect no more protection from you than the wolf might find or the dog the shepherd finds killing the sheep. It is our duty to wipe all of the unclean from our midst. Let Heavenly Father deal with them.”
The angel glared at him.
“When a man prays for a thing, he ought to be willing to perform it himself.”
That he should.
“Kill them all. Start with the lying temptress.”
MALONE’S HAND WRAPPED AROUND THE GUN. HE FELT LUKE tense as his finger found the trigger. Cassiopeia had diverted Salazar’s attention enough to allow the move to go unnoticed.
“If you turn and trample the holy commandments of God,” Salazar said to Cassiopeia, “and break your sacred and solemn covenants, becoming traitors to the people of God, would you not be worthy of death?”
“You cannot do—”
“You have committed a sin that cannot be forgiven in this world.”
Salazar’s voice rose.
“Let the smoke ascend that the incense thereof may come before God as atonement for your sins.”
Malone heard the magic word.
Atonement.
His grip on the gun tightened, but he hadn’t yet freed it from Luke’s belt.
“Stop this,” Cassiopeia said. “Stop it now.”
“You are no different from Judas, who deceived and betrayed Jesus Christ.”
Salazar was yelling.
Working up courage.
“No different at all. The prophets say that we should suffer our bowels to be t
aken out before forfeiting the covenant we have made with God. Judas was like salt that had lost its saving principles, good for nothing but to be cast out and trodden under the foot of man.”
He slid the gun free.
“One,” he whispered to Luke, his lips not moving.
“I love you, Josepe.”
Cassiopeia’s words sliced his heart.
Was it true, or simply designed to stand Salazar down?
“You’re not worthy of love,” Salazar bellowed back. “You are not to be believed.”
“Please.”
Tears streamed down her face.
“Please, Josepe.”
The Spaniard’s attention was totally on her. Stephanie remained on her knees, back straight, head high, watching. The gun was leveled at Cassiopeia’s chest. Malone resented the hell out of being placed in this position. Stephanie had come to end the problem.
But the task had fallen to him.
“Two,” he breathed.
SALAZAR STEELED HIMSELF.
“If the gentiles wish to see a few tricks,” the angel said, “we can perform them. They call you a devil. That is not an insult. We Saints have the meanest devils on the earth in our midst. We cannot attain our endowment without those devils being present. We cannot make progress, nor prosper in the kingdom of God, without them. We have always had a need among us for those who steal our fence poles, or the hay from a neighbor’s stack, or the corn from afield. These men have always served a need. As you do.”
He resented being called a devil, but understood what the vision was saying. Tough jobs had always required tough men. He watched as Cassiopeia’s tears increased. He’d never seen her cry before, and the sight was disconcerting.
And those words.
I love you.
They gave him pause.
“Heavenly Father will have mercy on all of their souls.”
That he liked.
“We shall possess the earth because it belongs to Jesus Christ, and he belongs to us, and we to him. We are all one and we will take the kingdom and possess it, under the whole heavens and reign over it forever and ever. All ye kings and emperors and presidents help yourselves, if you can.”
“That is true,” he said to the vision.
“Nations will bow to our kingdom and all hell cannot stop it. Do your duty. Do it now.”
“THREE.”
Malone swung the gun around as Luke dropped to the ground.
He aimed the weapon.
Salazar reacted, shifting left.
“No,” Cassiopeia screamed.
“Drop the gun,” Malone yelled. “Don’t make me do it.”
Salazar’s arm never stopped, the black dot of the barrel homing in on him.
No choice.
Malone fired.
The round found Salazar’s chest, staggering him backward. Salazar regained his balance and never hesitated, again re-aiming his weapon.
Malone fired a second time.
To the head.
The bullet entered through a neat crimson hole, then exploded out the back, blood and brains splattering on the rocks.
SALAZAR LOOKED FOR THE ANGEL. BUT THE VISION WAS GONE.
He still held the gun, but no muscle in his body seemed to work. He lingered for a moment, his muscles shutting down, yet he was still aware of the surroundings.
Blackness enveloped.
The world blinked in and out.
The last thing he saw was Cassiopeia’s face.
And his last thought was a wish that things had been different between them.
CASSIOPEIA RUSHED TO JOSEPE AS HE DROPPED TO THE HARD earth. No question he was dead. Cotton had shot him twice, once in the chest, once in the head. Just like she knew would happen.
Stephanie stood.
Contempt filled Cassiopeia’s eyes and she glared at Cotton. “Are you satisfied now?”
“I gave him a chance to stop.”
“Not much of one.”
“He would have shot you.”
“No, he wouldn’t. You both should have let me handle this.”
“That was impossible,” Stephanie said.
“You’re murderers.”
“No, we’re not,” Stephanie said, her voice rising.
“You tell yourself that. Make yourself feel better. But you’re not a damn bit different than he was.”
SEVENTY
WASHINGTON, D.C.
MONDAY, OCTOBER 13
4:50 A.M.
STEPHANIE FOLLOWED DANNY DANIELS AS THEY CLIMBED THE steps inside the Washington Monument. The president had walked from the White House in the predawn chill. She’d been waiting for him outside the lower entrance. He’d called her yesterday, on the flight back from Utah, and told her to be here.
She and Luke had returned alone. Cotton had taken another flight overseas to Copenhagen. Cassiopeia had stayed, intent on returning Salazar’s body to Spain. At Falta Nada the air had been tense afterward, Cassiopeia refusing to speak to any of them. Malone had tried to approach her, but she’d rebuked him. Wisely, he opted to leave her alone. Cassiopeia had been partly right. They were murderers. Only with a free pass to stay out of jail. She’d always wondered why it was right to kill in her business. All that greater good crap, she supposed. But killing was killing, no matter where, how, or why.
“My boy did good, didn’t he?” Daniels asked her, as they climbed.
She knew who my boy was. “Luke handled himself like a pro.”
“He’s goin’ to be fine. You’re going to be glad you have him. I even think he and I might make our peace.”
She was glad that Danny had settled another score.
One more step toward retirement.
She’d never been inside the Washington Monument. Strange, considering she’d seen it thousands of times. Just one of those visits that had always been delayed. Made entirely of marble, granite, and bluestone gneiss, the 555-foot obelisk carried the distinction of being the tallest stone structure in the world. It had stood since 1884, when its capstone was finally laid. A rare East Coast earthquake a few years back damaged its exterior, which took three years to repair.
“Any reason why we can’t use the elevator?” she asked him.
“You’ll see.”
“Where are we going?”
The Secret Service waited at the bottom of the staircase, which right-angled its way from the ground to the top—a long climb, 897 risers, as the site superintendent had explained below.
“Only about halfway up,” he said. “What is it? You out of shape?”
She smiled. He seemed back to his old self. “I can keep up with you anytime, anywhere.”
He stopped and turned back. “I’ll hold you to that.”
“I sincerely hope so.”
They were alone, both of them comfortable with the other. Soon he would not be the president of the United States and she would not be his employee.
She pointed to what he was holding.
A laptop computer.
“I was unaware you could use one of those?”
“I’ll have you know that I’m actually quite good on one.”
He offered nothing more as to why he’d brought it along, but she’d expected little.
They started to climb more stairs.
Along the way, embedded into the exterior walls were commemorative stones, carved with patriotic messages from donors. She’d noticed references to particular towns, cities, and states, many countries, Masonic lodges, Bible verses, maps, military regiments, colleges, a bit of anything and everything.
“Were these all donated?” she asked.
“Every one. All in honor of George Washington. There are 193 of them inside.”
They hadn’t spoken of Rowan or Salazar, beyond her curt report that both had died, neither at the hand of anyone officially connected to the U.S. government. Charles Snow had been waiting for them outside the cave, a sad, forlorn look on his face. U.S. Army personnel were dispatched to remove the bodies. All ev
idence of a gunshot was removed from Rowan’s remains, the wound erased by an extensive autopsy performed by military pathologists. The senator’s family had been told that he died of a heart attack while on church business with the prophet. He would be given an elaborate funeral in Salt Lake sometime this week. Salazar’s body was released to Cassiopeia, who flew to Spain aboard Salazar’s jet.
Daniels stopped ahead of her on the next platform. “This is the 220-foot level. My thighs actually do ache. I’m not accustomed to that kind of workout.”
Hers were throbbing, too.
“We’re here for that,” he said, pointing to another of the commemorative stones.
She studied the rectangle, this one featuring what appeared to be a beehive resting atop a table. Above the hive was an all-seeing eye that radiated downward, revealing the words HOLINESS TO THE LORD, which crowned the hive. Beneath the table was carved DESERET. An assortment of three-dimensional trumpets, flowers, vines, and leaves sprang from the stone.
“This was donated in September 1868 by Brigham Young himself. The stone was quarried in Utah and carved by a Mormon pioneer named William Ward. The beehive was the symbol for the state of Deseret, which is what Young wanted to call his new land. Of course, we had other ideas. It would be nearly thirty years before statehood came their way, but this clearly illustrates Young’s early intentions.”
Daniels hinged open the laptop and laid it on the steps leading up from where they stood. The screen came to life with an image of Charles Snow.
“It’s real early out where you are,” the president said to the prophet.
“That it is. But I haven’t slept much these past few days.”
“I know the feeling. Me either.”
“I’ve been praying for Elder Rowan and Brother Salazar. I only hope Heavenly Father is kind to them.”
“We did what had to be done. You know that’s true.”
“I wonder how many of my predecessors said the same thing. They did things, too, that they thought had to be done. But does it make them right?”
“They gave us no choice,” the president said. “None at all.”
“I see the stone behind you. It’s been a long time since I gazed upon it. I visited the monument once, long ago, when you could still climb the stairs and see them.”