Trevor’s ears rang from the blast. Within seconds, a second explosion rocked the dirt beneath him.
“Is everyone okay?” Trevor asked.
“I’m fine,” Jacob said. “That was a close call.”
“Too close. Micah, is everything alright?”
“I’m fine. She seems to have passed out.”
“Damn it,” Trevor yelled and hurried over to the woman, then breathed a sigh of relief when he saw she was unconscious, as Micah had said. “Check her teeth.”
Jacob looked inside the woman’s mouth. “She’s clean, and she’s coming to.”
“Master,” she said groggily, staring into Jacob’s face. “I thought I was to wait inside until you returned from the Golden Slipper.”
She gasped and Trevor hurried over to them. His head pounded.
“My back hurts,” she said weakly.
Trevor sat her up, his hand coming away sticky. A large shard of glass was embedded between her shoulder blades.
“Call an ambulance,” he yelled. “She’s been hurt.” He laid her on her side.
Stepping over to Larson, he asked, “Is there a mine around called the Golden Slipper?”
“Yes, but it isn’t abandoned. It was reopened about three years ago by the owners. The company is based in Utah. It must be doing alright, because it’s still operational.”
Trevor scowled. “I have a feeling what’s coming out of that place isn’t gold. How far away is it?”
“About thirty miles. It’s just west of Virginia City,” Larsen answered.
“Then that’s where we’re going.” The sound of sirens rent the air. “Here comes the cavalry. As soon as we can get away, we’re airborne. The receptionist expected Dalton to be at that mine.”
“She’s a mare,” Micah said. “There’s a brand on her left shoulder.”
“James’s women weren’t branded,” Trevor stated, confused.
“No, because they didn’t come from a breeding ranch. Fillies are often branded. It’s to protect them from men who’d assault them otherwise. Women who aren’t destined for the Chosen can be used by any man, but the penalty for touching a potential mare is death. She’s dressed in green. It would’ve been her fertile period.”
“Then what was she doing here? I didn’t think women worked.”
“Some did, when they were no longer useful. My guess is that she hadn’t conceived as expected. He was setting her aside, and having her die in the fire simplified that.”
Trevor shook his head. “Just when I think I’ve heard it all, something else happens to disgust me. Are you saying he’d have let her burn alive because she didn’t get pregnant?”
Micah shrugged helplessly. “At New Horizon, women who didn’t conceive were sent elsewhere, given different tasks to perform, but some vanished.”
Larson walked over. “The helicopter is waiting for us.”
“Then let’s get going and pray we’re right. I’ve had more than enough of this sick bastard’s warped ideas.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Julie sat quietly at the table, the infamous manifesto in front of her. Elisa Robertson was across from her. Her red-rimmed eyes tore at Julie’s heart.
“We weren’t allowed to talk to one another at the other place, except when we were outside, and even then, we had to watch what we said. Why is it different here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they don’t have the space to separate us,” Julie said. She drew comfort from the fact they were still all together, and other than being manhandled in the hotel, none of them had been hurt. As she’d told Lilith earlier, Jacob and Trevor would find them, and despite the fact he didn’t want the responsibility for others, she knew she could trust him in this. Trevor wouldn’t let her down. Not this time.
“I was going to get rid of it, you know,” Elisa said rubbing her abdomen. The baby had to be due soon.
“That’s not an easy choice to make.”
Mother Mary had left them in the small dorm-like room. There was a table and four chairs as well as four cots. In the far corner, the door opened into the bathroom with a toilet and shower stall. The wardrobe on the far wall held old-fashioned sack-like dresses—all green. On the bed, Lilith was talking to Quinn. The young girl was on the verge of hysteria.
“Once I was free, I wanted it,” Elisa continued. “My parents agreed, and we all went into hiding. I don’t know how they found us. They killed them right in front of me.” Tears flowed down her cheeks.
“I promise you, they will be punished. The FBI will find us, and when they do, these people will get what’s coming to them.”
The door opened and Mother Mary came in carrying four voluminous white nightgowns.
“Here”—she handed them to Julie—“get undressed and into bed. Lights out in twenty minutes.”
“It’ll be okay,” Julie said to Lilith, knowing how the words lights out had affected her. “I’ll think of something.”
“This is warm milk to calm your nerves and help you sleep,” Mother said, coming back into the room with a tray. “You”—she pointed to Elisa—“have to calm down. It isn’t good for the babe. You”—she handed Quinn a cup of milk—“need training. This is a great honor. Three of you will be a family, treated with respect, held in esteem by all of us.” Approaching Lilith, she held out the cup and sneered. “I don’t for one minute believe you’re as tractable as you’re pretending to be. I saw your brand and those scars. You’ve been disciplined many times, and I doubt that will stop. Your master arrives later tonight. He’ll deal with you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll learn this time. If you don’t, well, you know what happens to horses when they’re no longer of use.” She turned to Julie, her eyes filled with sadness. “The master says you’ll join our family and replace Alice. I’ll treat you with the same respect I did her.” She gave her the cup. “Now, all of you, drink up.”
“What happened to Alice?” Julie asked to keep the woman talking and put off the inevitable plunge into darkness.
“She failed to conceive in her last three cycles. But the master has been gracious and found a placement for her elsewhere.”
Pregnancy on demand. How much worse can this get?
“I see. Can the light be left on in the bathroom?” she asked. Hopefully her voice had enough humility in it. “The baby presses on Elisa’s bladder. I wouldn’t want her to fall in the dark.”
“Of course. You’ll make a good mare—maybe even rise to wife someday.” Mother Mary walked to the bathroom, turned on the light, and closed the door partway. “Now, give me your empty cups.”
They complied. It was a lot easier to keep Mother Mary happy. As Julie had already learned, the small whip hurt. How had Lilith survived the crisscross of scars on her torso and the brand burned deeply into her stomach?
“I’ll see you in the morning,” Mother Mary said, closing the door behind her.
Julie heard the click as the door was locked. Within seconds, the room was plunged into darkness, saved only by the strip of light emanating from the bathroom.
“Thanks, Julie,” Lilith said, but her voice sounded far away.
• • •
Trevor looked through his night vision goggles. The last time he’d done so was the night they’d rescued Lilith from Pierce. Earlier in the evening, long-distance surveillance revealed Dalton Rush and L.D. Hamilton coming out to watch something on a computer—possibly the fire at the White Iris facilities. They’d gone back into the mine shortly afterward, leaving six armed men on duty.
Jacob had insisted they take two separate helicopters, hoping they’d need additional space on the return trip. Trevor, Larson, and Micah had traveled in the first bird with the SWAT team, while Jacob and the others had followed ten minutes later.
Now, snipers had the guards in their sights, and at his signal, they’d take them down.
They’d be going in blind, not knowing how many were inside, but since no others had come out to relieve the men and the parking lot was deserted except
for a small van and the twelve-passenger helicopter, there couldn’t be more than another half-dozen men inside. They’d have to be careful not to set off any hidden alarms. He, Larson, and Micah would go in first. The others would follow.
Trevor raised his arm to signal the shooters. One by one, the guards dropped. As soon as the sixth one was down, Trevor spoke into the mic he wore.
“Okay, get those guys tied up. Let’s get this over with. Remember, stay as hidden as possible and watch for traps and trip wires. Be careful. This feels too easy.”
The three men moved furtively toward the building. All weapons were loaded with tranquilizer darts, the dosage strong enough to take down a full-grown elk. The objective was twofold: Stop them from using the suicide pill and keep them alive in case he was wrong and the women weren’t here. They’d gone no more than ten feet when they removed their goggles; light from strategically placed pod lamps lit the way down the passageway.
“We’ll follow the rails,” Trevor said. “I don’t think those lights are sensors, but if they are, they’ll know we’re coming, so let’s be careful.”
As they moved further into the mine, Trevor picked up that antsy feeling he’d gotten when Julie had taken him spelunking. Crawling around in the cold, wet, dark cavern had brought back memories of wandering aimlessly in the blinding snowstorm. He’d almost lost it on her, barely managing to function until he’d seen light up ahead. He’d lied about being sick, and Julie had driven home.
Now, he was more or less in the same situation—moving around blindly, not knowing what was waiting for him. At least it wasn’t cold and wet. All he could do was pray the women were here and he wasn’t going to screw up again. After walking for what seemed like ages in the eerie darkness, lit only by the pod lights near the ground, a glow ahead indicated they’d reached their destination.
“Eyes peeled,” he said. “I don’t like this.” It wasn’t like the Prophet to let his guard down so completely. Sure the bastard was cocky, but he had to know someone would come after the women.
There were six doors off a large, circular room. Moving cautiously, uneasy because of the lack of security, Trevor stepped over to the first door. Lights inside showed it to be a fully functional lab. Vials of serum sealed in shrink-wrap waited to be loaded and sent to whatever outlets the Prophet had designated as ground zero for the Great Burning.
The second door was locked, easily opened by Larson and his lock pick. The door opened into a small bedroom, an antechamber. Whatever noise they made startled the person in bed, and Larson fired at it before the person could cry out. The figure dropped back onto the bed with a resounding plop.
Using a small penlight, Trevor illuminated the lump. It was a woman.
“She’s a mother,” Micah said. “Look at her clothes—all black. The women must be in there.”
Trevor’s heart pounded. Julie was just behind this door. He stepped over to it, but before he could turn the key, light flooded the small room.
“Well, well, well,” a man said, pointing a gun at Trevor’s chest. “Right on time. Welcome. Now, drop your weapons. I don’t want the sudden sound of gunfire to upset the mares. They’re all pretty high-strung at the moment.”
Shit!
“Dr. Rush, I presume,” Trevor said, putting down his weapon, as instructed. Micah and Larson did the same. Where were Jacob, Susan, Diego, and Evans? They were supposed to be right behind him. Had they been captured, too? “I believe you have something of mine.”
Dalton laughed. “Really, I’m sure you’re mistaken, but what might that be?”
“Dr. Julie Swift, Agent Lilith Munroe, and a young girl named Quinn Thompson.”
“You forgot Elisa Robertson and Kelly Kirk—or didn’t you know we had them? It’s only a matter of time before all the chicks come home to roost. No matter. What was yours is now mine. My father’s anxious to see you.”
“No more so than I am to see him,” Trevor said. How the hell was he supposed to rescue Julie if he was caught like a rat in a trap? The feeling of helplessness he’d sensed at the base of Murphy’s Mountain grew in him. Where was Jacob?
Trevor listened for the sounds that might indicate the rest of the team was nearby. Was that a footfall? Fabric brushing against the stone wall? An object knocked over in the background? Where were they?
“Then let’s not keep him waiting,” Dalton said. “Bring them.”
The two men with Dalton manhandled Trevor and the others out of the anteroom and led them to the door on the far side of the circular room. Dalton opened it to reveal a large bedchamber similar to something Trevor would expect to see in a castle.
Fitting, if you’re planning to be the king.
“Here are your guests, Father.”
L.D. Hamilton, the Prophet, sat on one side of the room behind a desk only slightly smaller than the one in his office in D.C.
“I underestimated you, Agent Clark, but it doesn’t matter now. I see you’ve met my real son, not that popinjay foisted on me by my father-in-law. My wife had a son when I married her. She was a package deal. They’ll be among the first to die. I wonder how she’d feel knowing the government wouldn’t recognize our marriage since I’d married dear Kate years earlier? But of course you’re responsible for Kate’s death after that raid in Slocum when you first took what was mine.”
“I didn’t kill her,” Trevor objected. “She used the cyanide capsule you gave her.”
“Semantics. She was a good woman, one who understood the needs of her master and the Creator. Everything is in place. The Great Burning will start and nothing you can do will upset my plans. When my informant told me you’d survived the explosion, I was annoyed, but when he said you were on your way here—well, I decided it was time I dealt with you myself. I was surprised when he said only six of you were coming.”
He doesn’t know about the second helicopter. That means Jacob is around here somewhere.
Trevor raised his hand to swipe at his hair and tap the Bluetooth he wore. Hopefully Jacob and the others would hear him.
“Why do all this, L.D.?” Trevor asked. “You had it all, you are the president’s right-hand man.”
“That fop?” The Prophet lifted his hand to his forehead, his face showing his pain clearly. “I danced attention on that fool for years to get where the Creator needed me. Now my time has come. Everything I’ve done has been at His command. He spoke to me when I was but a child, just as He must have spoken to my mother as she was dying. She told me about my legacy, and when the time was right, I took her to Sunnybrook. Grandpa accepted me. I led a double life, because the Creator wished it. One day I’d be the golden child at Sunnybrook, the next, back with the members of New Horizon.”
“But you killed them—friends and family. Why poison all those people? They believed in you.”
“They didn’t. They doubted me. My father and my brother said I was sick, and some of the elders agreed. They were going to lock me away, but the Creator stopped them. He sent the fever and told me how we needed to be cleansed to be worthy. Charity was my instrument, but I released her when I didn’t need her any longer. The Creator spoke loudly and frequently. He told me what I had to do to satisfy Him, and now, I’ll do His will and bring millions of new converts to him. Eden will be great once more. In time we’ll rule the world.”
“Master,” Micah said, throwing himself on the floor, weeping. “I was deceived. They lied to me, forced me to help them. Forgive me; take me back. I can help you. I know where the children are.”
“Why, you bastard!” Trevor screamed, so angry he could kill. “I trusted you. We all did.” He pushed away from the man holding him, fisted his hands, and went after Micah, but before he could reach the traitor, pain exploded inside his head and he fell to the ground, fighting to stay conscious. Blood trickled down the side of his face. Millions were going to die because he’d screwed up again, misreading the situation, and trusting a traitor. Hope, Cassie, Ariel—all dead because he’d failed. What would happen
to Julie? It sounded as if Dalton had other plans for her—plans she’d see as a fate worse than death. How would she survive the guilt of all the deaths she’d been unable to prevent because she’d trusted him to keep her out of danger and he’d blown it again?
“If you take me to the children, I’ll consider it,” the Prophet said. “Adam,” he addressed Dalton. “Take him, get the information you need any way you can. If he leads you to the children, brand him, but let him live as a lesson to others. If he doesn’t, cut his throat and feed him to the buzzards.”
“Thank you, master, thank you,” Micah said, slowly standing.
“Are the mares there as well?”
“All but the one they couldn’t find, but you found her.”
“I did. The child is due soon. Adam, kill Faye Halliday. The brat she carries isn’t one of ours.”
“As you wish,” he answered, and he and Micah left the room.
Trevor’s head pounded and he was nauseated.
“I’ve devised a fitting death for you,” said the Prophet. “I’d like to kill you quickly, but that wouldn’t serve the Creator. You’ll return to Boston, infected with the virus, and kill the city that spurned me.”
“I’ll tell them I’m sick.”
The Prophet laughed. “Who said you’d be able to speak? I make good on my threats, and O’Connor should never have denied me. Throw Special Agent Clark in the storage locker. I want to get some sleep.” He rubbed his head again as if the pain was worse. “We leave for the Promised Land at first light.”
The two men dragged Trevor out of the room and down a hallway he hadn’t noticed. He wanted to stand, but he was disoriented, the blood dripping down his face obscuring his vision. They were only a few feet down the passageway when he was suddenly dropped and his jailers fell beside him.
“What the hell?”
“How’s the head? Sorry about the rifle butt.” Micah held out his hand to help him up.
“Why, you lowdown son of a bitch. I’m going to rip your heart out with my bare hands and feed it to those buzzards L.D. mentioned,” Trevor cried, trying to stand up under his own power. “They’re all going to die because of you.” He fought to get to his feet.
The White Iris Page 32