by Adam Hiatt
A pewter Cadillac Escalade pulled up to the curbside. Reddic brought the camera to his eye and zoomed in. The rear door swung open and Faulkner and Jaxon stepped out onto the sidewalk and entered the square.
Now it was a waiting game. He knew Faulkner would try to bring men as backup. The question was, how many others would come and when?
Reddic watched the street carefully. A multitude of cars raced by in all directions, but he couldn’t pull his gaze from the Cadillac. It was a dubious automobile. The excessive tint on the windows gave it an aura of furtiveness. There was no telling how many passengers rode inside. All he knew was that if in fact some men did accompany him in that vehicle then there was a good possibility that they had already disembarked and entered the square. But where could they be? Sweeping the grounds again wasn’t an option; he couldn’t make it through another tour. Maybe there was an easier way to find out for certain.
The Cadillac merged into traffic and slowly turned down the west end of the square. Trying to appear relaxed, Reddic found his way to the west gate. As he passed through the opening the Escalade came into view. It rolled forward at a sluggish pace in traffic, as if the driver were searching for something—or somebody. No matter. Even if that were the case Reddic had no reason to be concerned. They wouldn’t be looking for a blond haired man in a suit with glasses.
But it was more than just the disguise that made him feel inconspicuously safe. He had adopted an entirely different persona. He altered his gait, changed his cadence, and modified certain telling mannerisms. He had superseded being noticeable; he was now anonymous.
He was about to approach the passenger side of the sport utility vehicle when he suddenly stopped. Something about the Cadillac seemed wrong. Was it moving too slowly? A wave of uneasiness passed over him. What if the vehicle was being used as bait, he considered? If his instincts were accurate than others had to be in the vicinity watching, waiting for him to make his move. That would explain why the driver had his head on a swivel; he was trying to locate his associates. Reddic smirked. It was a good ruse, and it might have worked had it not been for the apprehensive driver.
Reddic swiftly swept the periphery, wondering where they could be hiding. It was difficult to tell. They could conceivably be anywhere. Even though it was already past six o’clock, the evening was pleasantly warm, resulting in remarkably dense crowds in and around Temple Square. And crowds, he knew, were ideal hiding places. Wherever they were he had to expose them, and he knew just how to do it.
Rambling toward Reddic on the sidewalk was a youthful looking fellow, probably in his early twenties, dressed in khaki slacks and a green polo shirt. Reddic sized him up as the distance closed between the two. Upon close examination physical differences would be salient, but at first glance he was nearly the same build as Reddic: a couple inches over six feet in height, square shoulders, short brown hair, narrow waist, and long legs. A suitable double, he thought.
“Excuse me, bro,” said Reddic, stepping in front of him. “I wonder if I could get your help for a sec.”
Startled, the young man replied, “Forget it, man. I’m already late for something, sorry.” He tried to move away, but Reddic blocked his path.
“I’ll pay you a hundred dollars for only ten seconds of your time,” Reddic responded, removing a bill from his jacket pocket. The young fellow’s eyes widened and locked on to the green piece of paper. “But like you said, you’re already late.” Reddic closed his fist over the money and turned away, taking three steps toward the wall.
“Wait. I can spare ten seconds. What do you want me to do?”
Reddic motioned for him to come closer before he spoke. “What’s your name?”
“Luke.”
“Okay, Luke, you see that Escalade over there? All I want you to do is stand in front of it for ten seconds and keep your head down.”
“That’s it?”
“Yep, that’s it. Easiest hundred bucks you’ve ever made, huh?” Without another word Luke snatched the money and ran out into the street. He leaped in front of the slow moving truck and was met with a prolonged, belligerent horn, but he didn’t move. He held his ground as instructed.
Reddic waited near the wall, vigilant. He knew that if the Cadillac was a carefully designed trap then it wouldn’t be long before one of the others showed up.
He lifted his gaze to the opposite side of the street and noticed a tan skinned man who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. He dressed sporty, wearing brown cargo pants and a navy blue Adidas jacket, but for some reason his posture didn’t match his attire. He looked rigid and stiff stepping down off the sidewalk. He maneuvered around several cars in the street, but his strides were too resolute, too decisive to just be crossing.
Looping behind Luke, he reached into his jacket and pulled out an object. Reddic looked closer. He couldn’t tell what it was from where he stood. He pushed off the wall and sauntered down the walkway to get a better look. In that instant the unknown man lunged forward, shoving Luke against the hood of the vehicle. Holding his head down with his forearm, he brought the object into view. Reddic gasped when he saw what it was.
A hypodermic syringe!
As much as Reddic knew he should wait to see if there were others, he also knew he couldn’t. Luke was innocent. He wasn’t involved in any of this. Reddic couldn’t consciously let any harm come to him, especially if he was in a position to do something to prevent it.
Springing into the street, Reddic quickly found himself within striking distance. With no wasted movement he planted his left foot and lashed out forcefully with his right like he was punting a football. His foot connected with the man’s groin, smashing his genitals into the pelvis. Not knowing what hit him, the man dropped the syringe. His legs buckled as the weight of his body brought his kneecaps crashing down on the concrete. Reddic scooped up the needle and thrust it into his neck. Within seconds the man dropped to the street unconscious.
“Get out of here, Luke!” yelled Reddic, rushing to the rear of the Cadillac, crouched low. Luke turned around and saw the needle protruding from the lifeless man’s neck. His face conveyed bewilderment. “Go now!” Reddic bellowed as he jerked the door open.
Reddic jumped into the SUV behind the driver and seized his neck with his left arm and squeezed tightly. Writhing uncontrollably, the driver tried to break the hold, but Reddic wouldn’t let go. He reached into the man’s jacket amidst a series of flailing punches and tugged out his weapon, a Walther P99. A noise suppressor was attached to its nose.
Relaxing his grip just a little he said, “Who else is here? I won’t ask you again.”
“We’re the only ones, I swear,” he managed to say.
Reddic cracked him in the forehead with the gun, drawing blood. “Don’t lie to me. How many?”
“Go to hell!”
Reddic aimed the Walther at the driver’s right thigh and shot. The man howled in agony, his body convulsing. “You’re kneecap is next. If you ever want to walk again you’ll talk.”
Through a stream of tears the driver spoke. “One more. The tower.”
“Thanks,” said Reddic, smashing the butt of the gun against his temple.
Crowds were starting to gather around the unconscious body in the street. Reddic tucked the gun away and surreptitiously slid out of the Escalade away from the growing throng of onlookers. With both hands in his pockets, he strolled through the west gate, making his way to the only structure within the walls possessing a tower; the Assembly Hall.
Circling around to the front of the building, he sidestepped a rabble of people rushing to the street. Apart from a few children joyfully tossing pennies into a fountain, the Assembly Hall entrance seemed deserted. Reddic pulled on one of the heavy doors and stepped inside a small foyer. Ahead were two wooden doors and to the left and right were old wooden staircases. He opted for the left stairs and quietly ascended them.
The stairwell opened up to an unoccupied, horseshoe shaped terrace. A string of benches
followed the curvature of the balcony with narrow aisles in between. He leaned over the railing to look below, noticing immediately that the hall resembled an opera theater. The lighting was soft and tightly packed rows of pews faced a colossal pipe organ that spanned the entire height of the granite wall. On the remaining walls, including the one directly behind Reddic, were circular windows with hexagons circumscribed in them.
He peered closer and recognized that the hexagon was in fact two triangles, one inverted, overlapping the other. It was the Star of David. Reddic chuckled lightly. An Arabic sniper perched in the tower of a building adorned with rich Jewish symbolism. The irony was laughable.
A circular staircase snaking up an archway on the right wall caught Reddic’s attention. With a few quick strides he stood below it looking up, seeing that it was a much more compressed set of stairs that led to an area above the balcony. Taking them one at a time, he stepped nimbly at the edges to avoid any unwanted creeks or pops. The meandering stairs led to a thin door. He quietly opened it up and saw a narrow passageway heading to the tower. With little space to maneuver and absolutely no place to find cover, it would be incredibly precarious to storm the tower with an armed professional killer waiting at the top. He had to bring him down.
But how?
Closing the door, he reached for his phone and redialed Jaxon’s number. After three rings Faulkner picked up.
“You’re ten minutes late. The arrangement was to meet at the top of the hour. Does this mean the terms of the partnership are annulled again?”
Reddic ignored the verbal jab. “I’m changing the meeting location. A large group is heading your way. I’m on the balcony of the building next door. Bring Jaxon and meet me here in three minutes.” He clicked off the call and brought out the Walther P99.
He propped open the door leading to the tower and listened anxiously. After nearly a minute he heard a rustling sound. It was almost imperceptible. Reddic squatted low and steadied the gun, aiming it up the staircase.
A dark figure suddenly appeared only a few feet away in the poorly lit stairwell. Reddic squeezed off four muted rounds before the sniper even had time to raise his weapon. Each shot, normally echoing a rough spit, sounded much louder inside the confined area. The body tumbled down the steps, coming to a stop near the bottom of the passageway. Reddic looked over the fallen man. Four bullet holes were visible in the center of his chest. His right hand was draped over his abdomen. On it was the same mark Reddic had seen on three different men already.
A door slammed shut on the main level. Reddic checked his watch. Faulkner was early; only two minutes had elapsed. He must be restless to get his hands on the microfilm. Reddic nudged closed the door to the tower and hurried down the circular staircase to the center of the balcony. He didn’t want Faulkner to know that his man was out of action. He stored the Walther inside his suit jacket, put away the blond wig and glasses, and took a seat on a bench.
Joseph Faulkner was the first to come up the stairs carrying a leather briefcase in his hand, Jaxon followed closely behind. A layer of perspiration covered the older man’s forehead. His silver hair looked thinner and unkempt. He made no effort to conceal his irritation and contempt.
“The microfilm. Where is it?” he asked derisively.
“Are you okay?” Reddic asked, dismissing Faulkner.
“Fine,” Jaxon said. “What’s going on, Reddic? And why are you dressed like that?”
“Mr. Faulkner and I have agreed to be partners, haven’t we?” The billionaire only glared. “Let’s get right to it, shall we? Where is the codex?”
“Show me the microfilm first,” demanded Faulkner.
“It’s not going to happen that way. My meeting, my terms. The codex, please.” Unwillingly, Faulkner opened the briefcase and turned it in Reddic’s direction.
The document was folded in half. Reddic removed it from the carrying case and gently laid it out on the bench. He quickly scanned the script. Inside he felt a flutter of excitement as he saw the random Hebrew characters mixed in with the Nahuatl text.
“It looks authentic,” Jaxon commented, looking over his shoulder.
“Now the microfilm,” said Faulkner. Reddic reached into his inner left jacket pocket and removed the small black roll of film and tossed it over.
Faulkner snatched it out of the air and started to unroll it. As he did Reddic snapped a picture of the codex with his phone and slid it back into his pocket.
“Reddic!” Jaxon screamed. Reddic’s head shot up. Faulkner had his Beretta trained on him.
“Don’t look so sour, Reddic. Turnabout is fair play,” he said. “There’s no one to blame but yourself. I must admit, I was surprised that you neglected to search me for weapons, especially considering our first encounter on my jet. But when you carelessly handed over the film, I was shocked.”
Reddic was furious. Faulkner was right. His actions were careless; again. “I didn’t betray you,” he said. “You have the film as we agreed.”
“And I brought your brother,” Faulkner interrupted. “That means we both held up our ends of the bargain. However, I’m afraid I have no more use for either of you.” He stood and leveled the weapon. “Now get on your knees.”
Reddic slid off the bench and slowly knelt. He felt the Walther rub against his back. It represented his only way out of this jam, but it seemed nearly impossible to obtain without getting shot.
“Keep your hands where I can see them,” said Faulkner, as if he knew Reddic’s thoughts.
He glanced at the circular staircase leading to the tower. Reddic knew what he was thinking. He was wondering why his man had not come down.
“I’m sorry I have to do this, but there is nothing I would not sacrifice for this quest.”
“It’s only a rock,” Reddic replied wearily.
“Then why are you here?”
“I still don’t know.”
“Oh, but I do. You are unable to leave it alone. The Stone of Truth is consuming your thoughts and influencing your actions. You feel yourself inexplicably drawn to it. You do not even fully comprehend the magnitude of its power, but your faith continues to drive you, as does mine. On the surface you attempt to conceal your conviction by making disingenuous declarations, but in truth you are a believer and will not hesitate to dispatch me and take it for yourself if given the opportunity. I will not let that happen. Goodbye Reddic.”
Jaxon charged the wealthy oil mogul, colliding with him at full speed just as he discharged the firearm, causing the shot to err. The impact knocked Faulkner off his feet and onto the nearest bench. Jaxon pounced on top and wrenched the gun out of his hand. Faulkner groaned as he desperately tried to fight back, but there was nothing he could do. Jaxon’s newfound feral strength was too much. With the gun in his possession, he stepped back and aimed it unsteadily.
“Are you to kill a harmless man, Jaxon?” Faulkner asked. He held his hands to the side, palms up, showing he was unarmed. “Is your conscience prepared for such an impetuous decision?”
“Fortunately, he won’t have to make that decision,” said Reddic, coming to Jaxon’s side. The Walther sat securely in his right hand. “Regret won’t accompany your death.”
Suddenly, the door leading to the tower burst open. Reddic couldn’t believe his eyes. There, standing on the old circular staircase was the same man that he thought he killed only minutes ago. There was only one plausible explanation; he must have been wearing a Kevlar vest under his light brown robe. A compact rifle of some sort was pressed against his shoulder. From where Reddic stood it looked like a M89-SR. A spiteful, ominous smile pursed his lips.
Reddic leaped to his left, tackling Jaxon. Rolling under a pew, wood splintered all around them as bullets spit out of the sniper’s rifle. Reddic reached out and took two blind shots with the Walther. Covering his head, Faulkner scurried out of harm’s way.
“Give me the gun,” he said. Jaxon quickly handed it over. “Get ready. On my call we break for the far stairs.”
>
“I’m ready,” Jaxon said. Reddic only nodded.
Gripping both weapons tightly, Reddic yelled, “Now!”
Together, they rolled out from underneath the bench. While on his stomach, Reddic took aim and fired both guns at his target. The sniper jumped to the side, searching for cover. Jaxon was already at the stairs and heading down. Reddic bounced up and raced across the terrace toward his brother, unloading a few more rounds before descending.
As Reddic jumped off the final step into the foyer Jaxon nervously blocked the main door. “There are two more out there,” he said worriedly. “They were in the car with us.”
“I already took care of that. Come on.”
They zigzagged their way through the square, making for a hard target in case the sniper raced back to his post. They exited the south gate and ran east along the outer wall. Parked alongside the curb a half block away was a horse drawn carriage. Reddic climbed into the rear seat, and Jaxon, clearly confused, followed.
“Thanks for waiting,” said Reddic, addressing the driver.
“No problem. For the money you gave me I would’ve waited two more days,” he replied.
“Get us to the Gateway Mall in five minutes and there’s an extra twenty.”
“Yes sir.”
Reddic squeezed the blond wig over his head, careful to put it on straight. Reaching under the seat, he pulled out a baseball cap and gave it to Jaxon. “Put this on and keep your head down,” he said. “And take your glasses off.”
The driver snapped the reigns and led the horses into traffic. The clicking of hooves on concrete was almost melodious. Reddic sat in the carriage pretending to be taking pictures, but in reality he was surveying the crowds.
“Where are we going?” asked Jaxon.
“I left my backpack at the mall. I’m gonna need it to get that film back.”
Jaxon grunted. “Don’t worry about the microfilm. It’s worthless.”
“No it’s not. It has the name on it,” Reddic replied evenly.
“The code key’s not on the film,” Jaxon said. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.” He leaned in closer. “I already have it.”