“Because they aren’t there.” He looked down at his lap. “Saul told me that the park police found the car and Mordecai bribed the officer to give him everything you left in it.”
“Then Mordecai has our wedding rings, too.” Jamie closed his eyes.
Eddie patted his leg. “It’ll be okay.”
“I suppose.” Jamie said as he wiped away a tear. “But what burns me is that Mordecai had his grubby fingers all over our rings. Even if we get them back, I’m not sure I’d be able to wear it without thinking of him.”
“Then we’ll buy new ones,” Eddie said. “We bought those used on Craig’slist, after all.”
“Step on it, we’ve got to get going.” Jamie closed his eyes. He still had no idea who Mordecai’s victims would be, or even what was going to happen. Only that it was something Armageddon-like.
Chapter Forty-nine
At a deserted section of highway, Eddie pulled over to look at the map. “Fuck,” he said as he placed his finger at their location and followed the nearby roads.
Jamie watched, concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“According to this map, we have to cross Lake Champlain by ferry.”
“So?”
“This late at night, the ferry’s going to be closed. To avoid the lake, we’ll have to go farther south. It’s going add a lot of time.”
Jamie got worried. “How much time?”
“An hour. Maybe two.”
“Can we take a northern route?”
“Yeah, we have two choices. We could go through Canada, but we don’t have passports. And if we take U.S. Route 2, it would take forever.”
“Then we drive south.”
Eddie drove on in silence, while Jamie worried about what they would encounter in Boston. As they drove over a hill, Jamie spotted a speck of light in the distance. “Eddie, is that a gas station up there?”
Eddie squinted. “Maybe.”
“Do we need gas?”
“No. Not really.”
“Let’s stop anyway. Hopefully, it’ll have a store attached and we can buy some throwaway phones.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
*
It didn’t take long for the speck of light to grow into a sign for a gas station. They stopped, and Jamie ran inside. It was barely a gas station, and didn’t sell anything but gas and oil. Not even a soda machine. A skinny teenager sat behind the counter, thumbing through a magazine featuring monster trucks. He wore headphones, and Jamie could hear the hard rock banging through the ear buds. He tried to yell above the music. “Can I use your cell phone, please?”
“Fuck you,” the teen said, not looking up or even taking the headphones off.
“I’ll pay you for the call.”
The teen glanced at him. “How much?”
“Five bucks?”
“Not unless you give me two of them.”
“Okay,” he yelled, taking out a ten from the money Andy gave him. “The phone’s not set to privacy or anything, is it?”
“Nah,” the teen said. “Nothing’s ever private around here.” Jamie grinned and quickly punched in Ellen’s number. It rang for about two minutes and finally went to voicemail.
Jamie covered his mouth and turned away from the teen because the music was so loud. “Ellen, it’s me. That message in the package we got was right. Andy Caldwell sent it. Something’s going to happen in Boston. A massacre, or something Armageddon-like. We’re on our way and will be there in about five hours. We don’t have our phones anymore. I had to borrow this one, so you can’t even call me back. But I’ll call you again as soon as I can. Love you, girlfriend.” Jamie handed back the phone and ran back out to the SUV. “No luck,” he said, slamming the door closed.
Eddie pulled out of the lot. “I saw you talking on a phone, though. Were you able to talk with Ellen, at least?”
“No. I left a message, but she can’t call us back, obviously.”
“Who’s Ellen?” Peter asked from the back seat.
“She’s our best friend.” Jamie paused. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
Over the next hour, Eddie stopped at every open gas station and convenience store. None of them carried cell phones. At a couple of places, Jamie was able to borrow a phone to call Ellen. But he never got through. Eventually, he gave up.
Then, twenty minutes farther down the highway, Eddie pointed to a large, well-lit sign. “In two miles, there’s another gas station.”
“Forget it,” Jamie said, dismissing the idea with a flip of his hand. “We might as well wait until we’re near Boston or some suburb.” Eddie looked at him, and Jamie pulled out his wallet. “I have a little more than a hundred and fifty dollars left from the stash Andy gave us. If I continue to bribe the attendants, I won’t have enough money to buy phones or the minutes to use them.”
“Well, we might get lucky this time,” Eddie said. “It’s a Rhodes Petroleum gas station.”
The Rhodes gas station looked more like a miniature Walmart than a gas station. Jamie figured it probably sold as much food and merchandise as gasoline. He went to the front counter, where three young women worked the cash registers. “Excuse me, do you sell any pre-paid phones and phone cards?”
“Sir, you’ve come to the right place,” the first girl said. She sounded like she had her lines memorized. “At Rhodes Petroleum, we’ve got everything you need for the road. Follow me.”
The attendant escorted Jamie down an aisle, as if they were in an expensive department store. She presented a complete shelf of cell phones, accessories, and phone cards. All locked up behind a glass cabinet, of course. “What kind of telecommunication services do you need, sir?”
“I want three of the cheapest phones you’ve got. Plus plenty of minutes to go with them.”
“But for a slightly larger investment, you can have a smartphone, with an actual keyboard.”
“Don’t need it. We’re only making calls. What’s the cheapest phone you’ve got?”
“Very well, then.” She pointed at a refurbished Talk Till You Drop brand.
Jamie never heard of that brand before. “Will it have any service?”
“Of course, sir.” She answered politely. “Talk Till You Drop purchases airtime from all the major cellular companies, so you’ll never encounter a dead spot.”
“Good,” Jamie said. “I’ll take three of them, plus charging cables for the van, and several hours of prepaid time.” The attendant unlocked the cabinet and picked out the requested merchandise.
When they returned to the register, Jamie slapped money onto the counter and started ripping the phones from their hard plastic cases. “How do we activate these things?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” she said, ringing up the order. “You do it online.”
Jamie looked up at the woman. “We’re in a van. We don’t have online access.”
“That’s okay.” The woman reached underneath the counter and pulled out her purse. “You can use my personal smartphone.”
“How much will that cost me?” he asked, reservedly.
“It won’t cost you anything.” The woman appeared shocked. “It’s only a couple megs of downloading.”
Jamie felt embarrassed. “Thank you, miss.”
Back in the van, Jamie handed out the cell phones, and they plugged them into the cigarette lighter outlets. He hoped it wouldn’t take long to charge them enough to use.
Chapter Fifty
Ellen’s fingers ached as she continued to scrape at the packing tape around her wrists. It felt like her nails had been ripped off her fingers, leaving only raw skin underneath. She touched the small, ragged hole she was making. It was maybe an eighth of an inch wide. She twisted her wrists in an effort to make the hole larger, but it didn’t work. She needed another tactic.
If I could stand up, maybe I could find something to cut the tape with. But as much as she tried, she couldn’t get off the floor with her arms tied behind her back. She took a deep breath and tried to ma
neuver them under her taped legs. She wasn’t flexible enough.
Perhaps if I could sit on a chair, I could push myself up. She scooted toward the furniture. Holding her legs against the floor, she wiggled her back into the sofa. The strain made her upper legs sting, but she got on the cushions finally and started rocking back and forth. Reaching the proper momentum, she gave her body an added push. She was up, but tilting precariously. She held her breath and found her balance.
Spotting a coffee mug in the kitchenette, she hobbled her way there, penguin-like, and picked the cup up with her hands. Even though she couldn’t see where she was aiming, she tossed the mug against the wall. It hit the refrigerator and broke into several pieces, which scattered on the tiled floor.
Slumping to the ground, she fumbled for a shard and picked one up, cutting her finger in the process. A smile appeared on her face. I’ve got a perfect tool! The more she scraped the tape with the broken earthenware, the larger the hole grew. Then, with a little pressure from her wrists, the tape broke.
Once she freed her legs, she knew what to do first: contact the police and convince them to stop the Brethren. But Chris had taken the phones, his computer, her backpack, and clothes. He’d taken his papers that would prove she was telling the truth. She tried to remember the IP addresses and passwords, but couldn’t; she would have to try to convince them without proof. She ran to his closet and put on a pair of his jeans and a T-shirt. The clothes were so big on her she looked ridiculous, but it couldn’t be helped.
She ran downstairs and asked the night desk clerk to let her use the phone. He just stood there, staring at her. She grabbed him by the collar and yelled, “I need to call the goddamn police.”
He handed her the phone, but instead of calling the police, she called her father. She knew he’d want to be the first to be told about Christian. He didn’t answer, though, so she left a message. “Daddy, it’s me. Don’t go to the National Easter Service. Deranged members of a cult named the Brethren are planning to storm the service and assassinate someone, most likely one of the pastors. Christian Donahue is part of the conspiracy. He kidnapped me to keep me silent. But I escaped and am going to the police station to file charges. Please call me back as soon as possible.”
She hung up the phone, but decided against calling the police. She figured she’d be more persuasive in person. But before she could go there, she needed to change out of Christian’s clothes and get her phone service working again.
As she drove to Dedham, she kept running through the facts as she knew them. They didn’t add up. Why would the Brethren kill ministers from conservative churches around the country? And why would they want to kill a pastor at the Easter Service in Boston? What would they gain?
She had the on-duty maintenance person open the doors to her condo once she arrived there. She changed clothes, grabbed her spare AmEx card, and took off for the nearest discount store, where she bought a prepaid cell phone. After a quick trip on the Internet, she was able to reprogram the settings for her phone’s forwarding service and connect to her contact list. Now her new phone was as good as her old one.
Getting inside the Porsche, she gave Jamie another call. Still no answer, and her worries increased. Obviously the text messages I got the other day were faked. Jamie and Eddie weren’t singing “Kumbaya” by a campfire. For all I know, they could be dead.
She arrived at the station house, but the officer at the desk didn’t hear her come in. His head was buried in paperwork. “Excuse me, Officer. I need to make a report. I was kidnapped.”
That got his attention. He looked up and pushed the bridge of his glasses against his nose. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. I’m fine. I was kidnapped by Christian Donahue because I found out about a plot he was involved with to assassinate a pastor at the National Easter Service that’s going to take place at the harbor.”
The officer’s face remained emotionless. “Let me call an officer to take your report. Will you have a seat?” He got on the phone without taking his eyes off Ellen.
Moments later, the second policeman showed up and took her to a room where she blurted out everything she knew about Easter Sunday.
The officer wrote it all down. “That’s a lot to take in, miss,” he said as he put down his pen. “Do you have any copies of the documents you talked about?”
She shook her head.
“What about the letter you got on the papyrus paper?”
“I don’t have that either.”
“Do you have any proof to back up your claims?”
“No, but I remember the name of the hotel where the Brethren are staying in Boston.”
“That’s a start,” the officer said. “But the first thing we’ll do is put out a bulletin to find your Christian Donahue. We need to ask him some questions.”
Ellen became concerned. “There’s so little time left, sir. You need to stop the Easter Service before anything bad happens.”
The officer nodded. “We’ll certainly inform the American Council of Conservative Christians about this. We’ll also ramp up our security for the event. But without proof, I’m afraid we can’t force the council to cancel the event.”
“Even though I was kidnapped to keep quiet?”
“That’s one of the reasons why we’re putting out the APB. We’ll contact you as soon as we make any progress.”
“Thank you,” Ellen said, not certain there was anything to be thankful for. “Am I free to go?”
“Yes,” the officer said. “But I suggest you visit a friend or a relative instead of going home.”
“That’s okay,” she told them.
“Would you like us to add another patrol car to area around your condo, just to be safe?”
“That would fine.” She left the precinct and realized the officer was right. If Chris discovered her missing, that’s the first place he’d look for her.
As she left the precinct parking lot, her phone rang. She answered and Jamie shouted, “It’s about time. Have I got things to tell you!”
She didn’t give him a chance. She started unloading what she discovered. “The Brethren is planning to assassinate someone at the National Easter Service for the Council of Conservative Christians.”
“The homophobic churches?” Jamie asked.
“Yeah. The Brethren plans on killing one of their pastors.”
“Girlfriend, they’re not going to assassinate just one pastor. They’re going to kill everyone at that altar.”
“Oh, my God.” Her hands shook and her feet trembled. “Daddy’s going to be up there with them. He’ll be a victim, too.”
Chapter Fifty-one
Easter Sunday
Eddie pulled off the road and pulled out his map. Jamie looked over his shoulder, and they tried to find the location of the all-night diner where they were to meet Ellen.
“Well, here’s Framingham.” Eddie pointed to a little dot on the map. “So if the place is just down the road, it should be easy to find.”
Jamie worried anyway. It was already Sunday—half past midnight. In six hours the Easter Service was scheduled to begin. Eddie drove on, and fifteen minutes later they pulled into the diner’s parking lot. Jamie spotted Ellen’s red Porsche. When they got inside, however, he hardly recognized Ellen. She looked tired, defeated. Her bruised fingers almost matched the color of her hair.
They sat opposite her in the booth. She pointed at Peter and asked, “Who’s he?” She didn’t even smile.
“My name’s Peter Sokolov,” he said, taking her finger and shaking it. “I’m Jamie and Eddie’s friend.”
Ellen looked over to Jamie for further explanation. “We met him at the Brethren. But it’s okay. He’s cool.”
“Good to meet you, Peter.” Ellen signaled the waitress. “I already put in some food orders. They’ve been keeping them warm until you got here.”
“Thanks,” Jamie said. “But we don’t have time to eat. We need to debrief. Ellen, you notified the police, right?�
�� She nodded. “Good. What happened?”
“Basically, not much. I gave them a report. Well, as much as I could. They said they’d look into it.”
“They’re not stopping the service?”
“No. They said they couldn’t because I didn’t have any evidence to show them. It was only my word.”
Jamie and Eddie didn’t have any evidence, either. “Then what are the police planning to do? Sit on their butts while the apocalypse happens?”
“No, Jamie. The police notified the Council of Conservative Christians. It’s up to the council to decide whether to cancel the service or not. But until they do, the police are increasing their security around the harbor area. They’ve already put out bulletins to apprehend Christian for questioning. And they’re tracking down the Brethren to question them as well. If they see or hear anything suspicious, they’ll act. But until then, they can’t do anything.”
Jamie took a breath and tried to settle down. “Well, thank goodness we can do something. Okay, what do we know about the service?”
Ellen explained how Chris had facilitated Rhodes Petroleum’s involvement with the service. She also told them about the video clips she’d seen on his computer and about the creepy document that had messed up her laptop, and how it described Mordecai as the White Horseman of the Apocalypse.
“What’s that, again?” Jamie looked over at Eddie.
“It’s from the Book of Revelation,” Eddie said. “‘And there before me was a white horse! Its rider held a bow, he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.’”
“So that explains the dye we found in the stables.” Jamie sat back in the booth. “Ellen knows as much as we do. Except we did find out who sent us the message.”
Ellen leaned forward. Eddie started rubbing his eyes, and Jamie continued, “Andy Caldwell sent it to us.”
“Andy?” Ellen exclaimed.
“Yeah. He joined the Brethren after leaving the Second Birth Treatment Center. But he’s messed up. He’s lost touch with reality.”
Deadly Cult Page 16