False Prophet

by Richard Davis

  When the elevator doors opened, I was relieved to find that the corridor seemed all clear. And when we arrived at the room, I was relieved again to find two housekeepers – both looking relaxed – filing out into the corridor, suggesting there was nothing untoward within our room. But I wasn’t about to take any chances. So the moment Lilly and I were inside, and the door was closed behind us, I took her firmly by the arm, pulled her close, put the SIG to her back, and whispered in her ear:

  ‘When I let go of your arm, go sit on the sofa with its back to the window and wait there while I sweep the room for threats. Understood?’

  ‘Understood.’

  I let go, and immediately started combing the room. Once I was content the place was clear, I drew the curtains, sat down beside Lilly, and pointed the muzzle at her stomach. Tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  ‘Don’t fuck me around,’ I said with brutal directness. ‘I saw two Order men outside the hotel. Tell me everything you know, about how they came to be here, and what they’re planning, or so help me God…’

  ‘They know you’re alive,’ she said pleadingly.

  ‘Of course they know I’m alive,’ I spat. ‘You clearly told them after I informed you about The Eliot Hotel, when I went to make a call. You used the landline, no doubt. Now tell me what I want to know.’

  ‘You don’t understand,’ she said desperately. ‘They’ve always known you were alive. The bomb in Manhattan – it was designed to fail.’

  *

  ‘What on earth—’

  ‘I would’ve told you,’ she said hysterically. ‘But they have my daughter – I couldn’t.’

  ‘Lilly,’ I said forcefully. ‘Get a grip, and explain from the start.’

  ‘Okay.’ She took a few deep breaths; then at last she said, ‘Okay, here’s what happened. Before you arrived in Montclair, your son came over, overpowered me, and tied me up. Then he told me that I was going to be complicit in a set-up. He told me that his father was on his way to my house, an FBI agent called Saul Marshall who believed not only that he’d just dodged an attempt on his life perpetrated by his son after a bomb had failed to go off, but also that he’d successfully faked his death to The Order by altering the bomb and detonating it. In actual fact, he told me, the bomb had been designed not to go off. And the “clue” you’d then discovered – which pointed you to my house – had been planted.

  ‘From there, your son started telling me his plan. He said he was going to set my house of fire and make it look like he’d tried to kill me. Then, when you turned up and “rescued” me, I was to conceal the truth of the situation by pretending I was surprised to be saved; as though I, too, believed The Order thought we were both dead. After I’d won your trust, I was then to tell you the story about Samuel living in a safe-house on Columbus Square and to convince you to try and infiltrate the house by masquerading as an Inner Sanctum member. Obviously, I knew I was sending you into a trap – and I didn’t want to deceive you – but I had no choice. The Order have my daughter, and your son said that if I wanted to get her back alive, I had to.’

  I took a deep breath, bracing myself against the weight of this revelation. Once again I felt as though I’d been hurled through the looking glass. After I’d detonated the bomb in Manhattan, I’d been convinced I’d escaped the web of events Drexler had created for me. But on the contrary, I’d been as firmly ensnared as ever and all the more vulnerable precisely because I thought I’d gotten free. And my stomach turned as I contemplated how exactly Drexler had predicted my actions. He’d guessed that I would believe the bomb had been meant to kill me; that I would search the suite and find the itinerary; that I would rescue Spender; and when it came to entering the safe-house, that I’d choose the strategy that involved acting a part…

  I wondered if the guy who’d given me a ride to Montclair was truly an NYPD officer or just another of Drexler’s lackeys…

  It suddenly felt painfully obvious that Drexler wouldn’t have been content to simply kill me in a bomb blast. Of course someone like Drexler, a personality obsessed with controlling others, would’ve preferred to use the opportunity to create a situation in which his nemesis thought he was a step ahead, but really was two behind. He’d done this to prove that he was the master manipulator and if one thing was clear, it was that Nine Columbus Square in no way represented an opportunity to retrieve Samuel. It was a trap. And it was almost certainly where Drexler was planning to kill me. In a fashion, no doubt, befitting the complexity and ingenuity of the plot which had brought me there.

  To figure out how to respond, I needed all the information available.

  I looked Lilly in the eye.

  ‘So you were complicit in a plot against me because The Order have your daughter?’

  She nodded, tears still streaming her cheeks.

  ‘I had Abigail two years ago, while in the cult. But when Drexler saw I was having reservations, he shipped her off in the night to some hidden location. What better leverage to keep me in line? Your son told me that if I succeeded in everything he’d asked of me, I’d get Abi back… But if I didn’t, she’d die.’

  My response to this was ambivalent. I felt angry, disgusted even, that she’d been so willing to send me to the slaughter. But at the same time, I could empathize with her situation, and felt deeply sympathetic. In fact, I could see how her situation – having her infant child held hostage – was even worse than mine. I couldn’t say for sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing. And with this thought, sympathy won out over anger.

  I lowered my gun and softened my voice.

  ‘Lilly, I understand why you betrayed me, and I forgive you. You were put in an impossible situation. But the cat’s out of the bag, now. So you need to tell me all the details. The more I know, the better equipped I’ll be to try and fix this and help you. Okay?’

  ‘Do you really think you can help? That you can get her back?’ she said wildly.

  ‘First I need the details.’ I said authoritatively. ‘Okay?’

  ‘But—’

  ‘No, Lilly, first the details.’

  There was a pause as Lilly grappled with her emotions. Eventually, she brought herself under control, and said with relative calm, ‘Okay, the details.’

  ‘So what exactly was the plan once I left for the safe-house?’ I said. ‘Obviously this location, The Eliot Hotel, impacts on proceedings in some key way, otherwise you wouldn’t have risked calling them to tell them about it… clearly you did call them.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll explain as best I can. Samuel told me that after you’d learned about the safe-house on Columbus Square, you’d almost certainly organize a base-point in Boston – either a hotel room or rented property. He made me memorize a cell-phone number, and told me to call once I knew where this base-point was. So after you told me about The Eliot, I called and disclosed the location and time we were set to arrive. I didn’t recognize the voice on the other end, but it told me how things were going to go down. It told me that five minutes after you left for Columbus Square I was to head to the hotel lobby, and tell anyone who asked I was meeting a friend and his daughter. Then, the moment you entered the house, Abigail would be escorted into the hotel by an Order chaperone, and I was to invite them both to the room. There Abigail would be dropped off, then the chaperone would leave.’

  I was silent a moment, then said:

  ‘And so the watchers outside the hotel are there as a precaution?’

  ‘That’s right. The last thing the person on the phone told me was that they were going to have people watching the hotel and surrounding area, and if there was the least suspicion we’d plotted something, Abigail would die. It was enough for me to write-off the option of telling you the truth.’ She paused. ‘But ironically, it was this measure they put in place to deter me from telling you the truth that gave them away.’

  I nodded slowly. Up till this point, Drexler’s plot had been astonishingly complex, and astonishingly successful. But now he’d slipped up
. By placing his men outside the hotel, he’d given his game away…

  ‘Tell me about Nine Columbus Square,’ I said. ‘Firstly, have you any clue what this trap could be? What’s waiting within?’

  She shook her head emphatically. ‘I honestly have no idea.’

  ‘Secondly, have you actually visited the property before? Or did Samuel just give you a run-down of where it was and what it looked like?’

  ‘No, I actually did visit about a year ago with Drexler; and it actually was inhabited by ten cultists, one of whom was an Inner Sanctum member living in the front bedroom on the fourth floor – though it wasn’t your son. Drexler and I entered the house just as I said – through the back-door – and really did have a private meeting with the most senior resident in his bedroom followed by a tour of the house. And I really did see that connecting door to the neighboring property you mentioned…

  ‘I think they chose this house specifically because I’d seen it, so it’d be easy for me to describe it without coming across unsure. And though obviously I lied to you about Samuel living there, I really don’t know the location of any other Order safe-houses.’ She paused a half-second, then said feverishly: ‘So what do you think? Can you get Abigail back?’

  I rose a hand in a gesture of patience. ‘Let me think.’

  I got to my feet and began pacing. What were my choices?

  On one hand, I could just run away; simply depart the city. But there were two big problems with this. Firstly, I didn’t have anywhere else to go, or any other leads to follow up. Secondly, and more urgently, leaving now meant consigning a two-year-old child to death.

  So the only alternative was to enter Nine Columbus Square anyway, thereby initiating the chain of events that’d see Abigail returned to Lilly. I knew just about anything could be waiting within the house. But by far the most likely thing I’d find there was a group of nine cultists who knew who I was, but who’d been told: a) to pretend that they believed I was an Inner Sanctum member; and, b) to lead me to a trap situated in the front room on the fourth floor – whatever this trap might be. If this was the case, and I felt sure it was, then the solution was simple. I would enter the house, then would play for time – that is, do everything I could to delay arriving on the fourth floor. Then, once Abigail had been safely returned to Lilly, she would somehow contact me, and I’d make my escape.

  Yet while this plan seemed feasible, like something I could pull off, there was a part of me that said it was futile: Drexler would probably just kill Abigail, anyway. But surely I had to try. Because at least that way there was an outside chance of saving this child which was better than no chance at all…

  And then there was the feeling in my gut that said I simply had to enter the house, because I was out of leads – and maybe, just maybe, I’d discover something…

  I stopped pacing and looked at Lilly. Her teeth were worrying at her lower lip.

  ‘Here’s the deal, Lilly. I’m going to enter Nine Columbus Square anyway, masquerading as Ayin of the Inner Sanctum—’

  Her eyes rounded, and she made to speak. But I put up a halting hand.

  ‘No, just listen. You need to listen. I’m going to enter the house, pretending I don’t realize it’s a trap. That way, The Order will believe you’ve kept your side of the bargain and your daughter’s return will be set in motion. But I don’t intend to make this a suicide mission; so I need you to listen carefully because I’m going to need your help.

  ‘What I think I’m most likely to find is a group of nine cultists who’ll know exactly who I am, but who’ll pretend they believe I’m Ayin, and who’ll try to lead me into some kind of trap on the fourth floor. What I’m going to do – while staying in character, and without giving away that I know it’s a trap – is delay being taken to the fourth floor. Obviously that’ll be tough as they’re going to expect me to want to get upstairs as fast as possible to get to Samuel, but I’ll find a way. Now, here’s where you come in. The moment Abigail’s been returned to you, I need you to get in a cab to the Boston FBI Field Office – you still have their address, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said.

  ‘Okay. Then as soon as you get in the cab, I need you to turn on this phone –’ I handed Lilly my iPhone ‘– and call my Nokia, which’ll be in my pocket, set to vibrate. That way, when I feel it ring, I know I can make my escape. But don’t turn on the phone any earlier, that’s very important. Understand?’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘It’s also very important, Lilly, that the number to my Nokia doesn’t find its way into the wrong hands because it can be used to track the phone’s location. So I need you to memorize it. Will you do that for me?’

  She said she would, and I spent the next few minutes repeating the digits until she’d committed them to memory. Then there was a pause as we both digested what’d been said. A minute or so later, Lilly broke the silence.

  ‘Saul,’ she said.

  I looked at her. Her eyes were intense.

  ‘Saul, thank you for doing this… I can’t tell you what it means to me. But I have to confess that, well, that I’m scared…’

  I sat back down on the sofa, put my arm around her, and held her close. It was an embrace that said I understood her situation, that I believed in her. And when I let her go a couple of minutes later, I could see it’d had the desired effect: her expression was now hardened and resolved.

  I took this as a cue to get the show on the road.

  ‘Lilly, it’s time for me to go. The sooner I go, the sooner we’ll get your daughter back. And waiting doesn’t help us: the longer we delay, the more we allow our anxieties to fester.’

  She took this remarkably well, with a stoic nod.

  ‘Okay, let’s do it,’ she said.

  ‘And you remember everything I told you?’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘Good luck, Lilly. I know you can do it.’

  And with that, I got to my feet and left the room.

  *

  I exited the hotel and hailed a cab, pretending not to notice the two new watchers who’d replaced the earlier pair. Four minutes later, the cab dropped me off by the service road behind Columbus Square. I lit a cigarette, took three drags, then crunched it underfoot. Then, after darting into the service road and following it until I drew level with Number Nine, I started cutting across the space between the service road and the back garden: a paved area, dotted with a number of trees, each about fifty feet tall, whose branches interlocked to form a dense canopy of greenery. Then I hit the fence at the end of Number Nine’s garden.

  Here I made my final preparations. I made sure the SIG was ready and loaded. I switched the Nokia to vibrate, and placed it in my pants pocket. I extracted the purple hood and put it on. And then, for a brief moment, I fell into thought. Working on the assumption that I was indeed up against nine cultists and a trap on the fourth floor, my thoughts turned to what this trap could actually be. But when I tried to picture it, I drew a blank: the possibilities were too vast. However, seeing that my plan involved avoiding the trap altogether, I decided to stop speculating and instead turned my thoughts to my tactics. It was simple, really: I needed to play for time. But in the process, I needed to make it seem like my priorities were playing the part of Ayin convincingly and getting upstairs to Samuel.

  But then, all of a sudden, I was struck by a disturbing thought. What if Drexler had intended me to spot the watchmen? Had intended for me to get the truth out of Lilly, then to hatch this exact plan to get Abigail back? However, the very next moment I pushed this notion from my mind. This was the kind of paranoia that was only going to shoot me in the foot. And so, returning my mind firmly to the task at hand, I opened the gate in the fencing, crossed the small garden, and knocked on the door.

  ‘Who’s there?’ came a voice from within.

  ‘It is Ayin of The Sanctum – Taprobana.’

  The door opened.

  Chapter 34

  Friday, March 1, 2013. 10:02 a.
m. EST. – 9 Columbus Square, Boston.

  Standing beyond the door was a young man with a long, swarthy face, dressed in grey. He looked me over then broke into a broad smile.

  ‘My father,’ he said in a hushed, reverential tone. ‘What a pleasure to have you visit.’

  I stepped past him into the room, saying as I went, ‘Thank you, my son.’

  I glanced quickly around. I was in a large rec room, which took up the entirety of the basement, and contained nothing more than sofas, a television, a book-shelf. A staircase ran along the left-hand wall, leading up out of sight. I turned back to the man who said:

  ‘To what do we owe the honor of your company? Am I to assume you wish to hold council with Resh?’

  ‘That is correct.’

  ‘Do you come bearing news of Euphrates?’

  I wanted to engage this guy in conversation and kill as much time as possible. But I had no idea how an Inner Sanctum member would respond to this, so had no choice but to shut the conversation down.

  ‘What I have to say is for Resh alone,’ I said sternly. ‘If it were intended for your ears, I’d have told you so.’

  The guy played his part well: his eyes fell, and he looked genuinely shamefaced. And as I studied his expression, I felt torn. On one hand, I felt ruthless towards him: it was the HRT Operative in me responding to the knowledge he was conspiring to trap and destroy me. But at the same time, I felt an involuntary mercy. Because ever since I’d discovered Samuel was in The Order, I’d been unable to think of these cultists in the same way. They were no longer just inhuman killers. They were somebody’s children.

  ‘I apologize for my degraded mentality,’ he said.

  I regarded him for a few long seconds, then finally conceded a nod.

  ‘See to it that it doesn’t happen again.’

  ‘Yes, my father,’ he said obsequiously. ‘Please, come this way.’

  Before I could respond, he moved to the staircase, and began leading the way to the first floor. I followed suit, keeping myself alert and ready. But when we hit the first floor, and started through the corridor, it was quickly apparent that, on this floor at least, there was nothing to respond to. The rooms we passed – a kitchen, a living room, a dining room – were empty and non-descript. And before long, we were mounting the stairs to the second floor, and alarm bells were going off inside my head: I was progressing up the house too fast.