The Paladin's Message (The Keepers of White Book 2)

by Richard Crofton

  More and more forcefully, Rebecca’s stomach churned with a gaseous build-up until she could no longer hold anything in. As quickly as she could, she set her computer to her password protected lock, fumbled for the “Be Right Back” sign in a drawer to place on top of the desk, and darted for the bathroom door to her left.

  Not two minutes later, Michael reentered the office. He quietly placed his ear to the bathroom door, and to his satisfaction, he could hear what sounded like heavy dry-heaving. Quietly, he casually walked down the hallway behind the desk, which was lined with rows of private offices on both his left and right. It only took a matter of seconds to find the one he was searching for. Stopping in front of a wooden office door with a glass window, on which the words “Stephen Madsen, Ph.D: Behavorial Psychology Studies” were printed in gold decal, he checked up and down the hallway to ensure he was alone.

  From his back pocket, the man produced two paper clips and straightened them. Then, with the ease of a master thief, he quickly picked the lock and entered the office. He was back out in under three minutes, carrying the same book bag, which was now empty. He shut the door quietly after turning the doorknob back to the lock position. Checking the hallway again and seeing that no one was nearby, he walked back in the direction from where he came.

  The man stopped at Rebecca’s desk and took the note she had written for Professor Madsen, as well as the vase of roses, with the intention of disposing of them at a random dumpster. Stealthily, he made his way back around the desk and brought himself to the bathroom door again. The nauseating sound of vomiting continued. “Sorry about that, Becky,” he sympathized under his breath. “You’ll be fine in a few minutes.”

  Checking his watch, which revealed the time to be shortly after 2:00 p.m., he mumbled, “Ten hours left,” to himself, then continued on his way, leaving the department office without looking back.

  Rebecca soon emerged from the bathroom, trying to steady herself. She wasn’t sure what had come over her; the salad she had for lunch tasted quite fresh, and there was no reason for her stomach to disagree with it. Nevertheless, she decided that she would cross off the Chinese take out for dinner and substitute it with chicken noodle soup instead. By the time she made it back to her desk however, she felt her strength returning as the nausea all but completely subsided.

  That was so weird, she thought as she popped two more pieces of mint gum into her mouth and unlocked her computer screen. Anyway, where was I? It didn’t take long until she was back to normal, and she carried on with her uneventful shift. She never took notice that the roses were missing from the desk. In fact, she never recalled receiving any roses, nor did she even remotely remember receiving any visitors that day. And she would never receive a phone call from Michael. Even if she had, she would have replied, “Michael who?”

  Chapter VII

  Lancaster County; later that evening. Miles Harrison sat patiently in his vehicle conducting an unauthorized stake-out. He had no official business in the quiet neighborhood settled in Bird in Hand, PA, but he couldn't think of a better plan. Not after the strange scene he witnessed upon passing by Diana Palmer’s residence hours earlier. It was nothing to get up in arms about, but for some reason, it was spine-tingling enough for him to park his car and spy on the place. There were too many mysteries on his plate, and so far nothing added up. At least this newly developed one was something right before his eyes and therefore tangible; something he could physically watch to see how it would transpire… that is, assuming something would.

  Like most evenings of late, Detective Harrison, against the advice of his partner, conducted his usual drive-by along the street on which Dr. Palmer’s luxurious home sat. Everything was in its usual place, including the fancy Mercedes in the driveway; only this time there was also a fancy, dark SUV parked alongside of it. Harrison immediately recognized the Cadillac emblem on the center of the grill. The vehicle had backed in the driveway, facing away from the garage door. But what really caught his eye was the not so fancy, suspicious looking figure standing next to the driver’s side of it. He was a large fellow dressed in dark clothing, and he wasn’t leaning against the SUV; just standing next to it, erect, staring out into the street but not appearing to look at anything in particular. He was very statue like.

  Harrison had continued driving down the street until out of sight, then he had turned his Ford around, headed back, and parked along the side of the street several houses down. The man in the driveway had not appeared to have taken notice. He checked his watch and determined that that was over three hours ago. It was almost 10:00 p.m. The neighborhood was peacefully quiet and dark, save for the standard street lamps attached to the telephone poles that lined the street, emitting a dulling yellow glow that provided enough light for Harrison to keep an adequate watch. To his amazement, the figure in Dr. Palmer’s driveway had barely moved the entire time.

  For some reason, the scene before him was like a movie left on pause on someone’s DVD player; the viewer gone off to accomplish other tasks, having forgotten all about finishing the flick. Harrison began to feel stiff from sitting in the driver’s seat for so long. Aching, he hoped for someone to return and press the “play” button soon. Patience is the one requirement for a cop, more than any other, but even for a veteran, his was beginning to run thin.

  Unable to restrain a yawn, Harrison reached into his glove box and grabbed a packet of No-Doze capsules and two Advil tablets: two more requirements for the job. With no coffee left in his travel mug, he popped the tablets in his mouth and forcefully swallowed one at a time. The pills would help, he knew, but still he wondered how much more he could take of this monotonous night before he would have to call it quits. Had Rhonda still been around, waiting for him at home, he would’ve called it hours ago. Hell, he probably never would have even started these off-the-book drive-bys. Not that going home to her was something he had looked forward to, at least not in the last two years of their marriage. Now, all that waited for him at his place was a beta fish in a bowl. Wherever Rhonda was now, he was certain that she was having a better time than he was this evening. Probably with a new fellow, he thought. Probably met him on Facebook.

  Before he allowed himself to get too deep in thought about his failed marriage, Harrison’s eyes became fixed on the dark figure in the driveway. The statue finally began to move. He suddenly opened the door behind the driver’s seat, and Harrison noticed that his actions were in response to the activity occurring at the front doorway of the house. Walking briskly toward the open car door was Dr. Palmer herself, he could tell, and she was followed by two other men, both in similar size, build, and clothing as the initial stranger. Harrison was now fully alert as he watched Palmer enter the Cadillac behind the driver’s seat, and the three men who accompanied her followed; the figure he had been observing for the past few hours entered the driver’s door, the second into the front passenger seat, and the third in the rear next to Diana.

  Within seconds, the Escalade’s engine came to life, its headlights followed immediately, and its tires slowly rolled the vehicle out of the driveway, turning to the right and heading away from Harrison. Without a second thought, he started his own vehicle, waited until the Cadillac was nearing the end of the street, and started to roll forward. The movie had finally resumed play, and he was now ready to continue watching it.

  He allowed the SUV to make a right turn onto the intersection before switching on his own headlights. This was not his first rodeo. He knew how to tail someone without being noticed. Besides, the company in the Cadillac didn’t seem in a hurry.

  As Harrison made the turn at the end of the street, his phone came to life. “Harrison,” he answered after checking the Caller ID. “What’ve you got, Gibbons?”

  “Nada,” Gibbons replied on the line. “Same as always. Everyone still M.I.A. The girl. The boyfriend. And the bum. But I just wanted to let you know I finished checking up on all the leads. No dice.”

  “Figures,” Harrison grunted.


  “Not sure what our next move is,” Gibbons admitted, “but unless we get a bite somewhere, looks like we gonna be fishing for a long time on this pond.”

  Harrison made a left out of the neighborhood and onto a main road that was quite deserted. He wasn’t surprised considering the area was mainly farmland. “Your metaphors never cease to astound me, Gibbons,” he remarked as he accelerated to the speed limit.

  Gibbons grunted a laugh. “What about you? Anything? You sound like you in yo car.”

  “Because I am,” Harrison confirmed.

  “At this hour? Ain’t it past yo bedtime?”

  Harrison didn’t answer. He was too focused on the Escalade up ahead to engage in playful bantering.

  “Seriously man,” Gibbons continued when he realized his partner wasn’t in the mood, “tell me you just gettin’ a late night snack and not playin’ Robocop again.”

  “You tell me you’re not playing my mother again.”

  “Look, I ain’t playin’ man; we just talked about this. You gotta…”

  “Listen,” Harrison interrupted, “you asked me if I have anything, and it just so happens that I do… maybe.”

  Gibbons was silent for a moment. “Alright,” he conceded, “talk to me.”

  Harrison let out a brief sigh. “Well, you’re not gonna like this, but it has to do with Diana Palmer.”

  “Aw man,” Gibbons disapproved. “Here it comes.”

  “Stop!” Harrison’s voice elevated with irritation. “Just listen for a second. She’s up to something. She’s in an SUV right now with three men. All three wearing the same thing: black cargo pants and grey turtlenecks, and her get-up is not much different; not her usual business attire.”

  “Shit,” Gibbons chimed in. “You tailin’ her? Biddle will have yo ass!”

  “Maybe,” Harrison replied.

  “Man, that ain’t nothin’! So she’s goin’ for a joy ride with three guys. She’s a widow, cuz! Probably got a kinky way of getting her kicks.”

  “I don’t think so,” Harrison disagreed. “Something’s not right about this.” He kept his eyes straight ahead, not losing sight of the Escalade, as he took the next few minutes explaining to his partner about the strange behavior, or lack thereof, of the first suspicious character during his stakeout. For once, Gibbons did not interrupt him.

  “Still,” he finally commented, “nothing illegal.”

  “And I’m not doing anything out of line either,” Harrison argued. “I just wanna see what they’re up to, and I may need you on this.”

  Gibbons sighed. “I still think you reachin’, bro.”

  “We’ve got nothing else, Gibbons. I may have a bite, so I’m checking it out. Otherwise, we keep fishing.”

  “Usin’ my own metaphor against me. Thought you had standards.”

  Harrison noticed the SUV making a right turn onto a narrow road up ahead. “Gotta go, partner. I’ll call you if anything gets hot.”

  “Right,” Gibbons said. “Watch yo six, Murphy.”

  He terminated the call as he made the right turn onto the dark, narrow road.

  The tail lights of the Escalade glowed menacingly about fifty yards up ahead. Harrison continued his subtle pursuit as he got the sense that he was no longer watching the movie, but slowly becoming part of the plot.

  Chapter VIII

  Diana sat patiently in the comfortable back seat of the Escalade while staring up through the side window at the clear, starry sky. The constellations were beaming vivaciously as the artificial lighting in this Amish farmland was scarce, and the phase of the new moon produced no competition for attention among the heavens. The darkest night of the twenty-eight day cycle, at least in this remote area, in this cloudless sky, did not live up to its description. Diana was not one to gaze at the celestial wonders of the night and ponder on all the mysteries of the universe. She couldn’t care less if the weather had brought a monsoon. The starry scene above her was merely a way for her to pass time; a distraction from the anticipation she felt for the festivities she would soon partake in with her circle of colleagues.

  “A lovely night,” she mentioned serenely to the man in the seat next to hers, “don’t you think?” She turned and gave him a glance, noticing with no surprise his dull stare dead ahead. “No, of course not,” she answered for herself. “You don’t think anything.” She turned back to the view above her.

  Like his two counterparts, the man she referred to as an Erased issued no response, nor any indication that he even heard her speak, and she was satisfied by this. They were not programmed to converse, only to obey her commands. As of now, she gave none. The driver’s last order from her was simply to drive to the address by complying with the prompts of the built-in GPS device of the Escalade. She did not concern herself with checking the roads upon which they were driving to ensure he was heading in the right direction, and not once did she feel the need to have him increase or decrease his speed. She trusted him fully, or rather, she trusted her own power that controlled him.

  She checked her watch. Less than two hours before midnight. Soon she would be one sacrifice closer to completing the Cycle of the Dark Year. One sacrifice closer to gaining ultimate knowledge and power. She and her Circle would then achieve their long sought after goal, in which they would serve the dark lord on the same level as the Master. And together they would rule the nations how they would see fit.

  Throughout the centuries, the Agents of Shadow have prevailed under the Master. Little by little they took advantage of the growing corruption of humankind, feeding off of it the way a parasite feeds from a host. The diminishing strength of the pathetically noble Keepers of White soon became a mere irritation and no longer a threat to their cause. She sneered as her thoughts focused on them. Keepers of White: an ancient order that had no place among the modern world. It was only natural that they all but died out. Any of their attempts to pass on their own ways was feeble at best. She recounted her conversations with Senior Arnett regarding their order. Once, long ago, a force to be reckoned with; now a vanishing wisp of do-gooders lacking structure, desperately hanging on as if on a crumbling ledge. According to Paul, their last known strategy to regain balance was to remain in hiding and slowly recruit members of younger generations, hoping that through the course of time, their numbers would grow. But their foolish Code always became their own demise. They couldn’t help but to use their gifts to help others, which of course would eventually expose them, and in turn would get the attention of the Shadow Agency. A witch hunt would follow, and it would always end swiftly.

  The most appealing part of the stories Paul had shared with her pertained to that of the Master, the one who long ago completed the Cycle. She had never met him herself, and she had no evidence as to whether the legend about him was true, but if there were any chance that it was, then she would go to all depths to obtain the same secret knowledge and power he apparently possessed. She would, one day soon, complete the Cycle as well, and she would be on his level. Diana believed this wholeheartedly. Her power was growing faster than the others; more powerful than Paul, she knew, though she kept her full potential hidden from him and the rest of them. It was better not to draw the attention to herself and allow the fool priest to continue believing that his command was secure. Her time to take over would come. She, and one day her daughter, would be key players in the new future that awaited. The rest of them would either accept her or be dealt with. But first, she would need their talents in completing the Cycle of the Dark Year.

  One at a time, she thought. It was best to focus on the current ritual at hand. The rest would come in good time. Sonny was already in place to charm his way into the life of another Virgin Select. He was another asset she would use. Meticulously, she was taking measures to ensure his loyalty… to her more than the Agency. Manipulation was her strongest talent, and Sonny’s own distinctive uses would assist her quite well. It was true that he was difficult to persuade, but she had her ways; her womanly nature tha
t appealed to him better than any other agent’s influence over him. Like the others, she would use him until he was no longer necessary.

  Diana’s thoughts continued to occupy her until the gentle vibration of her phone inside her purse caught her attention. She let out a sigh as she checked the number on the display and took the call. “Yes?” she greeted in a businesslike manner. After a pause from listening to the caller, she turned her head around to glance out the rear window. “Is that so?” she responded to the information she was receiving. “Thank you for letting me know. No need to worry, dear. I’ll handle it.” Then she ended the call, as her lips formed a malicious smile.

  “It seems we’re being followed,” she mentioned with no urgency in her voice. The men in the vehicle with her offered no response whatsoever, only remaining in their mostly catatonic state. The driver only slightly raised his eyes to the rear view mirror for a moment. No command came to him; therefore, no need for concern.

  “Such a pest will have to be dealt with,” Diana remarked. “Unfortunately, as Paul has insisted, restraint is in order.” She then closed her eyes and began whispering in a language that was unlike anything the men in the car had ever heard before in their prior lives. Her whispering increased to a murmur, then to a full voice that almost echoed as if the inside of the SUV were a cavern instead. Her lids opened, having rolled back, showing only the whites of her eyes.

  If anyone not familiar with the ways of the Agents of Shadow had witnessed this frightening performance, his heart might have stopped in his chest. The men in the vehicle, as usual, showed no reaction. The driver merely continued keeping his eyes on the road, ensuring his master would reach her destination.

  ****

  The dark road lay ahead in a straight, flat line. There was no winding, black snake of hardened gravel for Detective Harrison to maneuver, so he allowed a little more distance between himself and the SUV ahead. He was somewhat familiar with the area, but had never usually ventured in these parts of Lancaster County; only farmlands consisting mainly of the peaceful Amish community surrounded him. It was rare that the daily events of his job would lead him out here, and he had to wonder what business Diana Palmer would have as well, that would constitute her riding with three conspicuous men to this area, at this hour.