The Profile Match

by Jill Williamson

  “Jonas Halvorsen,” I said, “though I’m also Spencer Garmond and Jason Hines.” The words spilled from my mouth like breath, unconsciously and outside my control. I felt sick with the knowledge that I wasn’t going to have a choice about what I said.

  “Impressive cocktail, Anya,” Diane said. “This will be easier than I thought.” She turned back to me. “Why did you come to Cambodia?”

  “To learn more about the Free Light Youth,” I said.

  “Why do you want to learn more about the Free Light Youth?”

  “I want to help the Mission League shut you down.”

  “Did you have any prophecies the night of my New Year’s party?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who about?”

  My heart thudded in my chest so hard I could feel the pounding in my head. My legs felt numb and stopped supporting my weight. I slid down the pole until I was sitting on the floor.

  “Who was the prophecy about?” Two Dianes looking at me.

  “Anya,” I said. “She was in the hospital.”

  Two Dianes frowned. “Why will Anya be in the hospital?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Any other prophecies?”

  “No.”

  “Would you ever join the Free Light Foundation as a prophecy dealer?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that puts an end to that,” the Dianes said. “Describe the prophecy you had about Mr. Renwat and David Kimbal.”

  “I didn’t have a prophecy. I lied to see what you would do. All I knew was that Kimbal went to Paris. I saw an old email from Renwat to Kimbal that had a Paris address at the bottom.”

  “How did you find this email?”

  “I broke into Kimbal’s house and got some emails off one of his old phones.”

  A sigh. “You did lead me on a merry chase with that one. I was certain those two were conspiring against me. Now, please, tell me who is the First Twin?”

  This time I tried to fight it. I almost managed to. “Graaa—ndmaah.”

  “Your grandmother?” the Dianes asked. “That’s impossible. Who is the First Twin?”

  “Grassse.”

  “The First Twin is Grace?” the Dianes asked. “The girl on the monitor screen?”

  I looked up, saw that Grace had curled up on the bed again. “Yes,” I said, hating myself. “Grace is the First Twin.”

  “How can that be?” the Dianes asked. “She isn’t a twin at all.”

  “Her brother died in childbirth,” I said.

  Two Dianes turned their attention to the Anyas. “Go, now,” they said. “Take care of it.”

  “Please don’t hurt Grace,” I said as the Anyas started for the exit. A memory came to me then, of the little girl at the funeral. “Natalia’s death wasn’t your fault, Anya.”

  Two Anyas wheeled around, their eyes wild. “What did you say?”

  “It wasn’t your fault she fell through the ice. Your father was wrong and cruel to say what he did. You couldn’t have saved her.”

  The Anyas looked like they might kill me right then. “Who told you that?”

  “God let me see it,” I said.

  The Anyas glared harder, their eyes dark and angry.

  “Natalia believed in God,” I said. “She’s in heaven now. You can see her again someday, if you want to. It’s your choice.”

  “It’s the drugs talking, Anya,” the Dianes said. “Get going.”

  The two Anyas left. A sharp ache in my head was making my right eye twitch and my stomach churn. I closed my eyes and breathed through my nose, hoping to keep control.

  “Who else knows all of this?” Diane asked.

  I opened my eyes and groaned. Focused on breathing.

  “Hey!” Something struck my arm. “Answer me!”

  I heard someone talking, but whoever it was seemed very far away. My breathing became shallow. The room was spinning. I closed my eyes again. Better. I wanted to sleep. Had to.

  “Spencer! Jonas!”

  Someone slapped my face. A shadow loomed over me, but I couldn’t focus enough to see who it was.

  “Enough of this. Put him back. We’ll finish later. A lower dosage of drugs next time.”

  ● ● ●

  I woke lying on the floor of my cell, my hands tied behind me. My body was trembling and cold. As before, it was too dark to see. I tried to sit up, but I felt sick. I breathed through my nose, fighting off a wave of nausea. What had happened? I tried to remember, but my head was pounding so hard I couldn’t think. My hands and arms and legs were shaking.

  Drugs. Anya had given me drugs to make me tell the truth.

  I’d told them about Grace.

  Grace was in the brothel with that man.

  God, help her! Please!

  I should recite a verse. That’s what Mary would do. I tried to think of one, but all I could come up with was John 3:16. It was better than nothing.

  “God so loved the world he gave his son. Whoever believes in him will have eternal life.”

  I blew out another breath, feeling better already. Another verse came to me.

  “I can do all things through Christ, who strengthens me.” Was that the whole thing? Another one popped into my head. “I fix my eyes on Jesus, the author of my faith. If he’s for me, who can be against me?”

  Anya and Diane were against me. Diane and her legions of slaves.

  “Love is patient. Love is kind. I can do all things through him who makes me strong. God works in all things for the good of those who love him. Trust God with all your heart and don’t lean on your own understanding. Acknowledge him and he’ll make your path straight.”

  I went on like this, babbling any part of a verse I could think of until a noise drew my attention to the door. Something scratching there.

  I wanted whoever it was to go away. It hadn’t been long enough for Diane to question me again, had it?

  The door swung open, then quickly closed again. Footsteps tapped toward me.

  “Come, Spencer. We must be quick.” A man’s voice. A Russian accent.

  Strong hands grabbed my arms and lifted. I rose to my knees, then got one foot on the floor and pushed myself to standing. A wave of dizziness engulphed me, and my knees buckled.

  My liberator slid his arm around my waist and held me steady. We inched forward in the darkness, toward the thin line of light under the door. It opened suddenly, and we stepped into the light. My hero kept a strong arm around my waist as we walked down the hall. My eyes adjusted to the light, and I glanced at him. Recognized the face immediately.

  It was the guy from Moscow. The homeless guy. The one Isaac and I thought was an angel. “Viktor?” I asked.

  “Shh. We will talk more soon,” he whispered.

  We walked by the room where Diane had questioned me and continued toward the end of the hall and a door with a push bar handle. When we reached it, Viktor opened the door with his hip, never pausing. Heat wrapped around me, and the bright sunlight made me wince.

  “See the white van parked at the curb across the street?” Viktor said.

  I squinted ahead and marked it. “Yeah.”

  “That’s our destination.”

  My legs felt like they were going to fall off, but they kept moving at Viktor’s side. I was still groggy, but I could walk on my own now.

  “Stop!”

  Viktor glanced over his shoulder and quickened our pace.

  I glanced back myself. The Rock was headed this way with Anya, both of them sprinting toward us. Anya was way out in front.

  We reached the street and stopped. It was two lanes both ways, packed with cars, vans, motos, and people pulling carts.

  “Ever play Frogger?” Viktor asked me.

  “What?”

  He stepped out into the road, dragging me with him. We paused there until there was a break in the next lane, then ran into that space. A car slammed to a stop and honked its horn.

  “Wait!” Anya’s voice.

  I looked back
. She was stepping out into the road. Behind her, The Rock was striding this way, a gun held flush against his leg.

  Viktor pulled me into the next lane, where the traffic was coming from the opposite direction. We had a break this time and were able to make it all the way across. Viktor led me around to the other side of the van. The side door was opened. Kimbal was in the driver’s seat.

  I stared at him. Before I could decide what to do, Anya appeared at the back of the van.

  “Take me with you,” she said.

  A gunshot rang out.

  Anya fell.

  People on the sidewalk screamed.

  Viktor released me and jumped to Anya’s side.

  I glanced at Kimbal one more time, then ran.

  REPORT NUMBER: 31

  REPORT TITLE: God Exorcizes a Demon, Times Three

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Somewhere in Phnom Penh, Cambodia

  DATE AND TIME: Friday, May 3, time unknown

  I was feeling stronger now, so I poured on the speed. All I knew was I had to keep going. To get away from Kimbal and Anya and the gunfire.

  But Viktor was good, right? He’d rescued me from that cell.

  I ran across a side street, then turned down it, taking the narrower, less busy road that was still packed with cars and people, who were staring at me. My whole life I’d stood out no matter where I went, but it was far more pronounced in Asian countries where six feet four guys with red hair and pale, freckled skin, were a novelty.

  “Hey! Jason from California!” A girl yelling my fake name.

  I slowed and searched the crowd. My gaze locked onto a hand waving from the passenger’s seat of a blue van. I recognized her. Emily, the YWAM girl from Eastern Oregon.

  I staggered toward the van.

  “Hi,” she said, concern etching her face. “Do you need a ride?”

  “Yes,” I said, fumbling with the sliding door. I managed to get myself in and shut the door beside me, but when Emily asked where to, I just sat there.

  The hotel was the only place I could go. I didn’t have a key to my room, though, and Anya had stolen my Apple watch. I’d have to ask for Eric Davis’s room at the front desk.

  “The Sofitel Phnom Penh Phokeethra,” I said. “It’s a hotel.”

  “I know it,” the driver said, pulling out from the curb. “I’m Mark, by the way.”

  “This is Jason,” Emily said. “What are you doing out so early?”

  “What time is it?” I asked.

  “Six forty,” she said.

  I leaned my head between the two front seats. “Do either of you have a cell phone?”

  “I do,” Mark said. “Local call?”

  “I just want to call the hotel,” I said.

  Mark handed it back. His phone was in English, thankfully, but it still took me a while to look up the number for the hotel. I misspelled it three times before I managed to find it. When the hotel picked up, I asked to be transferred to room 514. It rang, and I wondered what the odds were that Isaac was just sitting around his hotel room.

  “Hello?” a man said. Not Isaac.

  “Who is this?” I asked.

  “This Pok Yann,” he said.

  “Pok! This is Spencer—uh, I mean Jason. Is Isaac there?”

  “No, he go looking for you. Where you at?”

  “I’m on my way to the hotel. Where should I go when I get there?”

  “Come to room 514. I wait here.”

  “Perfect. If you see Isaac, tell him Grace is in trouble.”

  “Okay, okay. I will tell him.”

  “Thanks, Pok.” I ended the call and set the phone in the center console. “Thank you,” I told the driver. A black sedan drove out into traffic from a side road. I didn’t think anything of it until it stopped in front of us and Tito climbed out the passenger’s side.

  “Go around, go around!” I said.

  Mark wrenched the steering wheel to the side and stepped on the gas. The van lurched into the oncoming lane. I grabbed the back of Emily’s seat to steady myself, then looked out the back window and saw Tito jumping back into the sedan.

  “Who is that?” Emily asked.

  “Someone I’m trying to avoid.”

  “Why are they chasing you?” Mark asked.

  My mind raced. What to say? “They have my friend,” I said. “Emily, you met Grace at the airport. They took her to a brothel. I’m going back to the hotel to get help.”

  “Oh my gosh! That’s awful!” Emily said.

  Something struck the van from behind, and it jerked forward. Emily screamed. I looked back just as the black sedan rammed the van again.

  “Hold on,” Mark said. He slowed, and as we were just about to cross the next intersection, he jerked the wheel to the right. The van made a sharp turn onto a bigger road. Mark accelerated, weaving around cars and motos.

  I looked back to see if the sedan was still behind us, but it was quickly approaching on our left. “There’re back,” I said, just as the sedan rammed our left side.

  Emily grabbed hold of the dashboard and screamed. Mark wove past the other cars on the road, trying to put distance between us and Tito’s sedan, but they kept pace easily. Up ahead, the traffic was slowing at a stoplight.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Mark said, decelerating.

  Before I could offer a solution, a white van cut us off. Mark slammed on his brakes and just managed to avoid hitting the other vehicle. Viktor got out and ran toward us. On our other side, Tito was climbing out of the sedan.

  “Thanks for the ride,” I said, wrenching open the door. “I think I found the help I need.”

  “Be careful!” Emily called after me.

  Outside the YWAM vehicle, Viktor grabbed my arm. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I ran with him toward the white van and got in.

  The moment the door shut, Kimbal accelerated, swerved, then immediately slowed, putting the van in front of the sedan. He extended his arm out the window and pushed something on his watch.

  A popping sound and Tito staggered. A second pop, and the sedan shook.

  “Go!” Kimbal waved to the YWAM van, which rolled forward and continued on its way. Then he turned the wheel and drove on.

  I looked behind me but couldn’t see out the back. “What’d you do?” I asked.

  “Sleeper darts,” Kimbal said. “My watch might be twenty years old, but it still works.”

  There was something wrong with his voice. And then he glanced at me in the rearview mirror, and I saw the scarring on the other side of his face.

  This wasn’t Kimbal.

  This was Aleksander Halvorsen.

  My dad.

  My mouth, which was already parched from hours with nothing to drink, felt like sandpaper. I glanced between Viktor and my dad, wondering what was going on here.

  “What happened to Anya?” I asked. “Is she dead?”

  “An ambulance took her to the hospital,” Viktor said.

  “And that’s where we’re taking you,” my dad said.

  “I can’t go to the hospital,” I said. “Those guys have Grace in some brothel. We have to get her out.”

  “Do you know the location of the brothel?” my dad asked.

  My heart sank. “No. But if you take me back to the hotel, my phone has a tracking app on it. Grace’s earrings have a GPS locator in them.”

  “Then her agents have likely come after her already,” Viktor said.

  “We don’t know that,” I said.

  “I’ll take you to the hospital,” my dad said. “Viktor will get your things from your hotel room and meet us there. As is, you’re in no condition to go on a rescue mission.”

  “We can’t waste time at the hospital!” I yelled. “Diane said that guy would hurt Grace.”

  “Grace will not be hurt,” my dad said. “Trust me.”

  “Trust you? I don’t even know you!”

  “I’m sorry for that, Jonas. I am doing wh
at I can to mend things, but it has been a slow process. I think we’re nearing the end, though. My brother is here. If we can capture him, Director Moreland has promised to reopen the investigation against me.”

  “Kimbal is in Cambodia?” I asked. “Why? And when did you talk to Moreland?”

  “I emailed Moreland yesterday,” my dad said. “I finally have gathered enough proof to offer reasonable doubt in my favor and against my brother. I don’t know why he’s here. He’s probably working with Diane on something.”

  “But he ran away from her and the Mission League, both,” I said.

  “God will reveal the truth in his perfect timing,” my dad said.

  I wondered what was taking God so long to work all this out. “Did Kimbal kill my mom?” I asked.

  My dad’s eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Not directly,” he said, “though she would have lived if not for him. And he framed me to take the blame.”

  My chest ached more than my stomach. “And said you stole information from the Mission League when it was really him. And he sold your prophecies.”

  “Yes, he did.”

  My dad pulled the van into the drop off zone at the Calmette Hospital and put it in park. Viktor got out and opened the sliding door for me.

  “You’re not an angel then? Viktor?”

  He gave me a puzzled look. “I’m no angel, kid. Just ask my wife.”

  His wife? “But when I saw you in Moscow, you made me warm.”

  “It was a down parka. That’s what they’re made for.”

  “But no one saw you but me and Isaac.”

  “You do know that spies generally try not to be seen.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “I’m an agent. I work freelance.”

  “He’s stood by me all these years,” my dad said.

  “We’re going to prove Sander is innocent,” Viktor said, rounding the front of the van. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Viktor got in and drove the van away. I went inside with my dad.

  My dad. I liked saying that.

  We went inside and took the elevators to the third floor. As we wove our way down a busy hallway, I caught sight of a clock. It was 8:40 in the morning. We turned down a fairly deserted hallway that led to a single unmarked door. This turned out to be a Mission League medical office. With my dad’s help, I used the office phone to call Isaac. I told him where I was but not who I was with. I just wasn’t sure what do say about my dad yet.