“I’ll take it.”
A rectangle of light appeared on the elevator door before the display flashed and the sheik’s face glowered from the screen.
“My dear Sheik,” Maximos greeted half-attentively while picking some dirt from under a nail. “What can I do for you?”
“How dare you!” came the shouted reply. “I have just seen your little speech. You have gone too far and betrayed me for the last time! You are a heretic and a great Satan. Death to you, and death to all the unfaithful!”
The screen went blank, and an instant later the elevator doors opened. “Shall I ring him back, sir?” asked the voice now coming from the hallway.
“No need.” Maximos strode to his office suite and let the door slam behind him. It took him a few moments to realize he wasn’t alone. It was his feelings, not his sight, that alerted him, and he scanned the room curiously. There was no one present. He walked to the back wall and opened the hidden door to the chamber behind. An overpowering scent of sickly sweet smoke filled his nostrils as he entered, and he immediately understood. Sluffing off his shoes, he grabbed a thick cloak from a niche beside the doorway, threw it over his shoulders, and arranged the cowl around his face. As he moved further in, his ears picked up the low sounds of chanting, and he bowed his head reverently as he rounded a short corner and gently pulled back a thick curtain. He eased himself into the windowless inner room, lit only by candlelight and filled with thick, purple smoke and quietly stood behind its occupant. The prophet, dressed in similar fashion, did not acknowledge his presence but continued his ritual uninterrupted. Before him was a square pedestal of ancient hewn stone upon which were set a variety of crystals surrounding the three ebony tablets; pinprick glimmers of scarlet rose and fell across the glassy surfaces in response to the quivering candle flames. Hanging from the ceiling on a long chain was a bronze brazier smoldering with hot coals. From somewhere before him, the prophet grabbed a bundle of dried herbs and threw them onto the coal bed. The smoke changed from purple to black, its scent filled with bitterness. Without breaking his chant, the old man turned slightly and held out his hand. Maximos at once placed his own hand into the prophet’s palm and did not move as the elder took a slightly curved ceremonial knife from a sheath at his side and slit the layers of fabric to expose his protégé’s arm. Dipping his fingers into the side of the brazier, the prophet retrieved a piece of charcoal and began to draw upon the pale canvas of skin before him. He drew in determined spurts; crude shapes and wavy lines which seemed random and amateurish at best, but Maximos said nothing. Then the prophet gingerly placed the charcoal aside and again reached for the knife. With its sharp blade he commenced to skillfully slice at his canvas, drawing red to the surface and filling in the gaps between the black lines. The image came to life, and Maximos’ eyes gleamed at the face of the beast, made alive by the shimmer of his own blood.
With a quick flick of the blade, several drops of the crimson dew were splattered across the glossy tablet surfaces and instantly boiled away. The prophet gave an audible sigh and wiped off his knife.
“The barrier is still closed. The magic does not yet respond.”
“You know why,” Maximos replied. “The set time has not arrived.”
“Of course. But it never hurts to check.” He released a wan smile as if their discussion had nothing to do with more than examining an oil dipstick from a car engine. Having extinguished the candles and removed their robes, the pair returned from the world behind the hangings to the barely less eerie room of the private chamber. Profeta eased himself onto a small, wood-framed sofa, while Maximos pulled from an inconspicuous wardrobe a roll of gauze and another shirt—throwing the shredded one smeared with blood to the floor. After wrapping his wounds, he re-dressed and joined the prophet. Startlingly, he noticed the man looked worn and tired as if his strength had been sapped.
“Had I known of your plans, I would have abandoned my press conference and been at your side, lending my strength.”
“You were only needed for the end; and I foresaw you would be in time for that.”
Maximos didn’t respond.
“You’re wondering why my foresight did not prevent this press storm in the first place...”
“No, Profeta, I know that you do not choose what is revealed to you and what remains hidden.”
“But you are still worried about it.”
“Some things are written in stone. I do not doubt the certainty of my fate, of our fate. But I’ll admit I am troubled by the growing inconveniences. I feel as if I’m losing control—a loss which would deem me less than worthy for my chosen task.”
“Your humble words speak nothing but pride. These petty matters mean nothing in the scheme of things. It’s only in your need for control that you find yourself failing. And why should you? Even without the stones’ ritual, you are one of the most powerful men on this earth. You have position, power, money, influence. You singlehandedly have already achieved the greatest miracle this world has seen—Israel and Palestine have agreed co-exist. The Treaty will be signed. The Third Temple will be built. No one in the history of the cosmos has done this, Silas. Surely, you can handle a few bumps along the road.”
“You’re right, of course, Profeta,” said Maximos rising to his feet with sudden inspiration. “Would you, please, excuse me?”
“I’ll show myself out when I’m ready,” returned the prophet before closing his eyes and laying his head back to rest.
Chapter 94
The phone line rang twice before Cyndi picked it up. Though she answered with firmness, Maximos could detect hints of anxiety in her voice. Good, he thought. Fear had always been his favorite motivator.
“Yes, sir?”
“The documents Ivan found at the Mode home last night…I find it a strange coincidence that some of that information was broadcasted shortly after the file was discovered. Don’t you?”
“I suppose so, sir. But it seems a strange way to do it. That wasn’t Mrs. Mode in the video; and based on her psych profile it probably wasn’t her idea if she was even involved at all—”
“If you are telling me that there is possibly another leak of our private information besides the sensitive documents left on her dining room table and the idiot reporter Ivan’s men caught outside the museum, then, your world has just been catapulted into the highest level of trouble.”
“Yes. So stupid of me; you’re right, of course. Mrs. Mode and her new friends have to be involved. We have Frank. We have the files. No one else could know…Ivan says that under the right persuasions the reporter admitted to talking with Roland, Mrs. Mode and James only.”
“Fine. Call Gerald in I.T. on his private line and have him track Mrs. Mode’s cell phone location. Report back to me when he’s got it.”
Cyndi made her call quickly. But the final answer she got from her inquiry was far from what she wanted to hear. After shouting at the tech for his incompetence, she hung up and dialed Maximos with a slightly trembling hand—he wasn’t going to like this…
“What’ve you got?” he answered on the first ring.
Cyndi paused hesitantly.
“Cyndi!”
“We can’t find it, sir.”
“What do you mean, ‘you can’t find it’?”
“Gerald can’t find the microbit signal for Mrs. Mode or the daughter; nor is her phone location coming through. We even put tracing code in a text we sent to her from James’ phone but the return info is coming up empty…”
“How is that possible?”
“Frankly, it’s not, sir. What do you want us to do?”
“Have you ever had problems tracking James’ microbit?”
“No, never.”
“Fine. Here’s what we’ll do.”
Chapter 95
James stirred on his cot as a burst of fresh air filled the little room. Forgetting himself, he tried to sit up and winced in pain as his wrists caught against the plastic ties securing him to the cot. After Cyndi’s ab
rupt departure during their strange interview, one of the goons who had snatched him from the hotel in Brussels came in and released him from his chair. In doing so, he noticed how close James’ hand was from slipping out of the zip tie. As a punishment, he pulled the lines tighter once he moved his charge to a little cot against the wall behind the chair. Hours upon hours, James lay face up toward the dim flickering lights; his hands feeling pricked as if by needles at the inconsistent circulation in his wrists. His incredulity at the situation took a while to process. One minute, he was an executive on top of the world, and the next, he was tied up and locked away in some dismal place. A part of him didn’t even believe it was really happening. But as more time whiled away, acceptance began to solidify and create the foundation for his next move. He was getting out of here; he was going to find his family; and he was going to put a stop to Maximos ,once and for all.
He was still envisioning possible outcomes of flipping himself and the cot over when the door of his prison had been opened. To his surprise, Cyndi hurried toward him with a look of alarm on her face and knelt beside the cot.
“Shhh.” She held a finger to her lips before cutting his bonds with a pair of nail scissors. “James, please. I need your help. Some of GED’s sensitive material was released to the press this morning, and Maximos is blaming me. I know he’s sending someone to come and get me. I’m afraid for my life!”
As soon as his bonds were cut, James leapt up and pinned Cyndi against the wall.
“What are you playing at, cat! What do you need me for?”
“If we both escape, then, the chances are whoever he sends for me will have to regroup. It will buy more time than if I just rush out now.”
“And where are you going to go? There’s nowhere he can’t find you.”
“There are a couple places I’ve made provision for just in case something like this happened. Please, we have no time!”
“Why should I trust you? You’re as much a snake as he is, and would never double-cross him.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t while I still held his favor. But it’s over for me, got it? I don’t want to die, James! Please! They’ll be here any minute.”
With a snarl, James let her go and snatched his phone out of her hand. Somewhere in his mind, a warning of suspicion went off; something didn’t add up. But the overwhelming need to escape blanketed the rest of his reason and screamed at him to take the chance while it was here. Even if it was a trap.
“Where are we? Are there any vehicles around?”
“We’re 10 miles outside Brussels. My car is just outside. We can drive a circuitous route through some villages and head into the western side of the city. From there, we’ll have to abandon the car and get out of the country.”
“Do it.” The moment James released her, Cyndi flung into action and raced out the doorway. James was right on her heels. His mind was fixed on the plan; but as he caught sight of the hallway outside of his cell, he couldn’t help being thrown off. Despite the plain, intimidating quarters he had been in, he could now see that his prison room had been in a house richly furnished with antique furniture. Cyndi led them down to a half-level where they raced through a very modern looking kitchen whose walls were displaying a 360 degree image of a beach front.
“What is this place?” James asked coldly.
“Les Maison d’Verre. It’s one of Maximos’ houses.” She opened a back door and ran across a neatly cut lawn to a dark blue coupe parked at the edge of the gravel driveway.
“He keeps jail cells in his house?!” James was appalled and disgusted. “That’s sick!”
Cyndi snorted as she flung open the driver’s door and slid into the leather seat. “You have no idea.” She started the car and they sped down the road, fishtailing around the corners. Once, she almost caught the back against a tree trunk.
“Will you be more careful!” yelled James. “Last time we were in a car together it ended rather badly; and I’ll be hanged if that happens again.”
Cyndi wanted to retort that it had been his bad driving that got him in trouble last time, but held it back in favor of maintaining the illusion that he was the one in control of this escape. They stayed on the back roads and made it into the outskirts of Brussels less than two hours later. Their destination was a small airfield Cyndi knew of where James could possibly find and hire someone willing to get him to or near London without requiring too much detail. Cyndi was going to cross the Belgium border by cab and start making her way to a place she had not disclosed. It had been a long and silent car ride. When James finally spoke up, Cyndi couldn’t help but jump a little. James took her start as nervousness at fleeing from one of the world’s most powerful, and evil, men. His trust in her rose half a point; and despite his determination to loathe her for all she had done to him, a small, uncontrollable leak of compassion for her plight sprang from the wall of hate.
“Where will you be going? Are you sure it’s safe?”
“I can’t tell you,” Cyndi replied not unkindly. “You understand. But it is safe; and I’ll be okay. What about you?”
James pondered a moment. “I’m not sure. But after I get my family and figure it out, you can be sure that I won’t tell you.”
“Good. It’s safer that way.” She paused. “You know, James, since we might not see each other again, I just wanted to say that I’m truly sorry for everything. I was under Maximos’ spell; he had me fooled, just the same as you, and I regret that. But I don’t regret our time together. We were a good team; and I think that in another life, we really could have done a lot of good in this world…and for each other.” She placed her hand tenderly on his knee. James eyed it with malice, fighting the urge to throw back into her own lap. Instead, he just shifted in his seat and her hand fell away. Keeping her eyes on the road, she returned her hand to the wheel, but not before a small, teasing grin flashed across her face. Keeping his eyes on the road, James drew his arms around his chest and pretended not to see it.
Chapter 96
James was able to secure a flight in a small two-door charter plane with some emergency cash Cyndi had stashed in a hidden compartment of her trunk. After reassuring him that she still had plenty for herself and dropping a hint that she was sorry he wouldn’t be able to find her and pay her back, Cyndi took the liberty of giving James a swift goodbye kiss.
“For luck,” she said before turning and walking back to the car. She opened the door and spared him one last glance, then, drove out of sight. James watched the car as long as he could, though he couldn’t explain why. If there had at one time been any true feelings toward Cyndi, they had long been snuffed out. Perhaps, a part of him still longed for the ignorance, for the days when life had been simpler…Before I learned of Maximos’ evil schemes. Before he had me kidnapped and locked in his house.
The harsh thought brought him ‘round. There was no going back; his life had taken an irreversible turn. It was a difficult task to think about what would happen now, but he was certain about two things: he was going to get his family out of harm’s way, then, find a way to make Silas Maximos pay.
*
“His plane just took off. He’s headed your way, Ivan. I’m tracking his microbit now.”
Cyndi make a few light taps on her laptop keyboard to refresh the data. James’ plane was flying northwest over Brussels. “I’ll send you the link and password. And listen very carefully. You must not reveal yourself until he’s found the nest, do you understand? It will probably be some place off the beaten path.”
“Yes. I understand.”
“Gerald is also monitoring all messages and calls to and from his cell. As soon as we get a hint of a location, you’re a go. Do you have all the support you need?”
“Ja. I have good team. My cousin set me up with—”
“Great. Just make sure they’re professionals. We can’t have any more embarrassing stories coming out or loose cannons running around. And remember, the Modes must be taken alive. Maximos feels they st
ill have some usefulness, and he won’t continue to tolerate your…carelessness of viable assets.”
“I’m not careless. What happened last time was an accident. That small punk tricked us. He was in Shed for three days, hiding a little metal bar before hitting Feliks across the face while I gone on other business…Boss’s business. When I come back, Feliks on floor and little man trying to get out smashed window. I tried to be easy, but he fight—throwing metal bar at me but missed and it went out window. I grab him—”
“I’m not interested in your excuses about what happened to Roland,” Cyndi snapped. “Just make sure the current assets stay alive until Maximos says otherwise.”
She cut off the line quickly with irritation and sighed. Why couldn’t the brawn come with more brains? Most of this had been his fault from the beginning, she thought in frustration. If he had caught Roland right away…No, countered an inner voice. Roland was always your responsibility. You didn’t watch him closely enough; it’s your fault he got away. She clamped her hands to the wheel to stop them from shaking, as the immense realization of the situation crashed upon her. If this whole mess of leaked info, turncoat assets, and loose ends didn’t get cleaned up today, it was very likely that Maximos wouldn’t let her see tomorrow; and unlike the preposterous escape she had relayed to James, she knew that, in reality, there was nowhere on this earth she could go to where Maximos couldn’t find her.
Chapter 97
Sarah sat humming to herself on one of the couches in the squat’s makeshift common room. Curiously, it was empty of almost all the occupants that had congregated there last night. But she supposed they all had jobs to do…somewhere. From what she knew of Sammy, it was likely that each person here had a talent that was utilized on a regular basis for the benefit of the whole; though she wasn’t sure how much of their activities were legal. But she let the thought slide with good grace. After all, if it hadn’t been for the hospitality and abilities of these “squat citizens,” she and Tolu might have found themselves in a much worse situation. The idea made her shudder; she squeezed the small Bible in her hand and quietly thanked God that they were safe.
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