The Cain Prophecy (Lilitu Trilogy Book 3)

by Toby Tate

  “Someone has come about Cain,” she said in Arabic. “They are Americans, CIA I think. They say they are going to help track him.”

  “Do they really think they can?” the man asked.

  “They say he has a special tracking chip implanted in his body which we did not know about. But the chip only works within a few hundred kilometers. They have to know his general vicinity.”

  The man stood and walked across the room to her, put his arms around her waist. She gazed up into his amazingly bright eyes and felt her stomach fill with butterflies at his touch.

  “Then it’s time for me to go,” he said.

  “But you know they won’t let you out of here. They will try to kill you if you escape.”

  “But you know they can’t.”

  “And if you get out, what will you do?”

  He smiled. “I will help them.”

  Then, he leaned down and gently kissed her.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It was decided that, because they could be monitored at the facility, they would meet the following morning at the Makarim Riyadh, where Gordon and Gabe were staying. Al-Shamari offered to have them driven, but since they were both leery of accepting a ride after being gassed on the way from the airport, Gordon called a taxi, instead.

  The Makarim Riyadh was a five-star hotel just over two miles from the airport, which Gabe figured was great if they needed to get the hell out of there in a hurry. Even though this operation was considered a black op by the US Government, and just a hair’s breadth away from being disavowed, she had managed to get support for accommodations and transportation. The rooms were only about two-hundred a night in US dollars, which was a steal in a place like Saudi Arabia.

  The hotel was as big and opulent as the airport had been, its outer facade built in a huge semicircle, palm trees scattered along its outer edges like palace guards. Gordon paid the driver and he placed their bags at the curb. As they wheeled the suitcases inside, Gabe saw that the lobby was as impressive as its façade, with a recessed lounge area accented by fountains and several tables and couches. The Arabic architecture reminded Gabe of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, a tale she loved as a child. She always had been a romantic about the Middle East, and found herself admiring the culture as well as the people more each time she visited.

  Except this time I nearly had my fingers cut off.

  There were several people sitting in the lounge area, stepping from elevators and walking through the lobby. Any of them could have been sent there to keep an eye on them, she knew. She checked the head scarf just to make sure she didn’t catch the attention of any of the Mutaween, or religious police, that might be close by. The law in Saudi Arabia was based on Sharia law, and uncodified, which meant it could be loosely interpreted by any judge, usually without a jury. It didn’t pay to piss off the police here, especially for an American-born, Aussie-bred female like her. Instead of removing her finger, they would remove her head.

  She stood by while Gordon checked them into the rooms, watching each person in the lobby with the utmost attention—a man dressed in a suit reading a newspaper in the lounge area; a woman in a head scarf sitting across from him, checking what looked to be an iPhone; two dark-skinned teenage boys dressed in western street clothes walking from an elevator, talking animatedly about something, probably girls. Why did she suddenly seem so paranoid? She had good reason to, she figured, after what had just happened.

  Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not looking for an excuse to behead you.

  Gordon finally finished with the woman behind the counter, who, like every other woman there, was also wearing a head scarf and hijab, and turned to Gabe.

  “Shall we go to our rooms, Cousin Mary?” he said with a grin.

  Gabe narrowed her eyes at him, which she knew he could see, signifying that there was likely to be recriminations for his constant jabs at her. They grabbed their bags and wheeled them toward the elevators.

  On the ride up, Gordon explained that there was an outdoor pool, fitness center, wi-fi, breakfast in the rooms, and satellite TV. She figured she would probably stick to the room and read books on her iPad, or watch TV. She had no desire to tangle with the Mutaween.

  The door opened and they checked the room number sign on the wall, and then followed the arrow that pointed left. They came to the first room and stopped as Gordon handed her a key card.

  “Here you go, cuz,” he said. “Mine’s right next door.”

  “Thanks. What time do you want to meet after breakfast?”

  “Well, that depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On when you push me out of bed.”

  Gabe rolled her eyes, and then turned and slid the key card into the lock. She glanced back at him as she walked through the door. “Call me in the morning and let me know when we’re meeting with al-Shamari.”

  “Sure you don’t want me to tuck you in?” Gordon said.

  Gabe let the door slam in his face.

  Chapter Fifteen

  She was back on the island, the same one as before—topaz sky, cotton ball clouds, clear blue ocean lapping the shore as it has for millennia. The air smelled of fish and saltwater as a soft breeze cooled her sun-reddened skin. There was only one thing missing—John. Where was he? Had he gone off for another run? He loved doing that, often running miles in the sand. Gabe scanned the shoreline to the south. Nothing. That was odd. He usually told her if he was going anywhere. Maybe he had gone inside.

  She turned to head up to the beach house and froze. There was a tall, blond young man standing there, staring down at her. He was dressed in blue jeans, sneakers and a blue t-shirt with “The Waifs,” her favorite band, emblazoned on the front.

  But the most striking thing was his eyes—the pupils were as silver as two freshly minted coins. She suddenly felt vulnerable in her bikini, naked under his gaze. She knew instantly who he was.

  “Cain,” she whispered.

  The man smiled. “No, not Cain,” he said. “I want to help you find him.”

  “Help me…find him? Who are you?”

  “Let’s just say we have common interests, common goals. You want to find Cain and stop him. So do I.”

  “How do you know where to find him?”

  “Because I have abilities that no one else has. I can see inside his mind. I know his thoughts, what he’s doing, what he’ll do next.”

  Gabe stood in silence, trying to comprehend what she was seeing, what she was hearing. “How did you get inside my dream? Why am I not waking up?”

  “That is one of my abilities—interpreting thought waves, and transmitting my own thoughts to others. Cain has this ability, also. But in his case, it’s used for nefarious purposes.”

  A seagull squawked overhead as it coasted on the breeze. “You still haven’t told me who you are.”

  “My name is Abel. Like Cain, I was also an experiment. Unlike him, I refused to kill, and they eventually locked me away. But you can get me out. Tell Dr. al-Shamari that you know about Abel, that you want me released to your custody. If he asks why, tell him that I am your only hope in finding Cain. Tell him you won’t help unless they free me.”

  “If you are as powerful as Cain, you could get out any time you want. Why use us?”

  “Because…there is someone here that I care about. I wanted to be with her. This was the only way. But destroying Cain takes precedence over my personal feelings.”

  “How do we know we can even trust you, that you won’t join Cain the first chance you get.”

  “You said it yourself—I could have gotten out anytime I wanted.”

  “Maybe you were waiting for the right time. Maybe you’re using us for an excuse to blame us for your actions.”

  “I understand your distrust, Ms. Lincoln. You have every right to be wary. But if you want to find Cain, you’ll have to trust someone. I’m your only option. Remember; tell al-Shamari that you know about the Abel Project. It will throw him off
guard. Then tell him you need me to get to Cain. He’ll release me. Then, I will help you. Enjoy the rest of your dream.”

  As she watched, Abel’s face began to change, and in his place stood Gordon Powers, wearing the same blue jeans and t-shirt with “The Waifs” logo. He was holding a pair of tongs and grinning at her. Gabe sniffed the air and realized she smelled crab legs. She turned to see a grill behind her, white smoke rising into the salty air.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  Gabe glanced at him, wondering if Abel had somehow set this up by looking into her mind. Did that mean she was beginning to have feelings for Gordon? It seemed unlikely, but if that was the case, perhaps she didn’t know herself as well as she thought.

  Either way, she decided to just go with it, smiled and said, “Famished.”

  * * *

  Gabe awoke to the phone ringing beside her bed. The thick curtains on her hotel room window kept the harsh sunlight at bay, leaving her blissfully unaware of the world outside. She glanced at the clock. Seven a.m. Much, much too early. She reached over and grabbed the phone.

  “Yeah,” she growled.

  “My, my, we are a little grumpy this morning, aren’t we?” she heard Gordon say. “Time to rise and shine, princess. We have a busy day ahead. Wouldn’t want to miss all the fun, would you?”

  “Gordon, if you call me princess one more time…”

  “I know. You’ll rip out my lungs. Tell you what. I’ll give you time to shower, and we can meet in the restaurant at eight o’clock. I’ll order you some pancakes and camel bacon.”

  “Skip the bacon.”

  “Coward.”

  “Do they have coffee?”

  “In Saudi Arabia? They have Gahwa, basically just coffee made with cardamom. It’s sort of like ginger. Actually quite good.”

  “As long as it wakes me up.”

  “You’ll love it. Oh, and al-Shamari will be meeting us at eight thirty, so make sure to apply plenty of lipstick, rouge, maybe a mini-burka.”

  “You’re a barrel of laughs, Gordon. See you in an hour.”

  She hung up the phone, the dream from the night before worming its way into her mind. It had seemed so real, one of the most realistic dreams she had ever experienced. She remembered every word, every gesture, what the man in the dream looked like, what he had been wearing. If it was real, then she had to know the truth about him. Had he been another experiment like Cain? And if so, where had he come from? Could he really help them find Cain? And most importantly, could he be trusted?

  The thoughts buzzed around inside her head and found their way into the pit of her stomach where, mixed with hunger, they rolled like a grinding wheel on her stomach lining. She fought back the anxiety and pushed herself up out of bed, heading in the direction of the shower. One thing she knew for certain: Al-Shamari wouldn’t be leaving that hotel until she had every last bit of information about Cain, about Abel, and about what they had been doing for the last eighteen months.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Gabe dressed in a long skirt, long-sleeved shirt buttoned to the collar, and wore a hijab to cover her head. She would be damned if she would cover her face or wear the abaya again. If they wanted to haul her off to court, let them try. She was in a murderous mood this morning and was liable to take someone’s head off at the first provocation. She was tired, sore, half starved, her finger still throbbed, and it was that time of the month—a lethal combination.

  She took the elevator to the lobby and found the restaurant. She saw Gordon from across the room and made her way to his table. She passed by several people, but no one seemed to look twice at her, which was a good thing. As promised, he had gotten her pancakes, Arabian coffee, and no bacon. It smelled heavenly and she was famished.

  She pulled up a chair and sat.

  “Good morning,” she said, her voice a little more gruff than she intended.

  “Good morning,” Gordon said, taking a sip of coffee. To his credit, he kept the wisecracks to himself for once.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked.

  “As well as could be expected.” She picked up a carafe and poured syrup over her pancakes, then grabbed a fork and dug in. “Did you have any weird dreams last night?”

  Gordon shook his head. “Just the usual—me lying on a couch in a Bedouin tent while a harem of women feed me grapes, massage my feet, and so on.”

  Gabe ignored his remark. “I had a couple of nightmares. Probably just stress.” She considered telling him her dream about Abel, but decided against it. He might try to convince her to keep it to herself. But she really didn’t want to do that. If the dream was Abel communicating with her, that meant he was real. If he was real, then he was probably telling the truth. If he was telling the truth, then they needed him.

  They talked about what they would ask al-Shamari when he arrived, and what they would tell him. What they would tell him, they decided, depended on what he already knew.

  Gabe was just finishing the last of her pancakes when the scientist finally arrived, alone this time. He was dressed in a dark suit and red tie, but his dark eyes were surrounded by even darker circles, as if he hadn’t slept at all.

  They were about to stand to greet him and he held out a hand. “Please, don’t get up,” he said, then pulled out a chair and sat. “Thank you for meeting me like this.” He glanced at Gabe. “Again, Ms. Slocum, I apologize for acting so barbarically, but you must understand that I was under orders. My family is being threatened.”

  Gabe held his gaze as she finished swallowing her food. “You must understand, Dr. al-Shamari, we came to you in good faith and you treated us like animals. How do you expect us to trust you?”

  The Saudi smiled. “Trust works both ways. For instance, you hid the fact that you are also with the CIA, Ms. Slocum. Or should I call you Ms. Lincoln?”

  Gabe stopped chewing and stared at him.

  “Are you surprised? You Americans like to believe you can hide things, but we have our intelligence, as well.”

  “Okay, everything is out in the open, here, doctor. We all know we have our little secrets,” Gordon said. “Ms. Lincoln was just trying to protect herself and her country, as I’m sure you would do in the same situation. But what we’re here to talk about is much bigger than us. This is something that involves the whole world. The question is, what are you going to do to help contain this situation?”

  Al-Shamari grabbed a menu and began to look it over as a waiter came to the table. He closed the menu and ordered something in Arabic. The waiter jotted the order down, then turned and left.

  “There is an old Middle Eastern prophecy that foretells of the rise of a man born of a woman-beast, without a father, who will have the strength of many men,” al-Shamari said. “He will come and go in secret like the Jinn, destroying the enemies of the Arabic people, bringing glory to their lands.”

  Silence.

  “So you see, Cain was believed to be a fulfillment of this prophecy. Now, he is seen only as a demon to be destroyed.”

  More silence.

  “How do you intend to find Cain?” al-Shamari asked.

  “We were hoping you could help us with that,” Gordon said. “Do you have any idea where he could have gone once he left the institute?”

  “You mean, after he murdered my colleagues and friends? None. He had lived at the institute up to that point. He could have gone anywhere.”

  “Was there anyplace he ever spoke of going? A place he may have wanted to see?”

  “Cain rarely spoke of anything. He was a killing machine, and he played the part very well. He loves killing. It’s like a drug to him.”

  The waiter brought coffee and handed the cup to al-Shamari, who took a sip, smiling as if he was tasting heaven itself.

  “Tell me about the Abel Project,” Gabe said. The cup slipped from al-Shamari’s grip and shattered on the floor as every head in the restaurant swiveled in their direction.

  “Well, that certainly got everyone’s attention,” Go
rdon said.

  * * *

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” al-Shamari said. A busboy hurriedly swept up the broken glass as the waiter returned with another cup of coffee.

  “Dr. al-Shamari,” Gabe said, “you’re a terrible liar. I happen to know you’re keeping a man detained inside the institute, a man who was an experiment very much like Cain.”

  Al-Shamari took the cup from the waiter, and then watched as he walked back to the kitchen. He glanced at Gabe. “First, tell me how you know about this. Do you have someone inside the institute?”

  “No. It was a dream. Or at least, it felt like a dream, a very realistic one. He told me that he wants to help find Cain, that he’s the only one who knows where Cain is. He will only help us if you release him to our custody.”

  “And then what? You will make him a soldier like Cain and turn him against us.”

  “You know he refuses to kill, Doctor. That’s the reason the experiment never worked out in the first place. We wouldn’t be able to do any better. I believe he has some kind of psychic connection to Cain. He was able to send his thoughts into my brain while I was sleeping, invade my dreams and make it his dream. Anyone with that kind of ability could be very useful in finding Cain, maybe even capturing him.”

  “How do we know we can trust this Abel guy, whoever he is?” Gordon asked. “He might just be pulling your chain to get himself freed from prison.”

  “I don’t think so. He could have gotten out anytime he wanted.”

  “Then why didn’t he?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. But the fact is he could probably kill all of us if he wanted to. Instead, he wants to help us. I think we should give him a chance.”