by Gary Starta
Lunging and rolling at Hoyt, Diggs caught the pathologist by surprise. She rolled into his knees. He staggered backwards, yet managed to clamp both hands around the perfume-shaped bottle. Diggs’s roll continued to knock Ed back. He fell against a cabinet. A host of other bottles and beakers sprang forth, bouncing and breaking around them, but Hoyt held onto the bottle with an iron grip despite taking a nasty fall against a cabinet door. Diggs reached for the bottle. Hoyt removed one hand to swat her away as if she were a fly. Diggs scrambled to her knees and fell on Hoyt . She managed to get one hand around the bottle. Diggs sensed the dark magic surging throughout the pathologist’s body. She tried to appeal to the mind inside the body.
“Ed, listen! The man who touched this vial is evil. He’s a magician. Some of his black magic affected you. That’s why you’re fighting me right now. I’m only taking this to help Deondra.”
Not a hint of understanding reflected in the pathologist’s eyes. They remained black as coal, indifferent to Caitlin’s pleas.
“Okay, I give up . You win.”
Hoyt momentarily released his grasp, believing Caitlin’s ruse. She had no intention of giving up. As soon as Hoyt put his free hand down at his side, Caitlin slapped his face hard enough to produce a red welt. She took his head and slammed it back against the cabinet door. Hoyt’s body slumped, unconscious, in response.
“Sorry . I hope you have it in your heart to forgive me. Got to go.”
She stuffed the bottle in her purse and commanded her mind to think about nothing other than her next task. Her next stop would be Rivers’s apartment. It was high time to put the team back together.
Chapter 30
By the time Diggs had reached Rivers’s apartment, Deondra had heard the news. Director Hainsworth was dead. Assistant Director Andrew Dudek was critically injured. Every major station had interrupted programming to provide continual coverage of the bizarre showdown that had taken place at the Verizon Center.
“Is Dudek going to make it?” Rivers fired the question at Diggs before the veteran agent could even step into her apartment.
“He lost quite a bit of blood. I really can’t say.”
“I’ve been saying prayers.”
Diggs reflected on her thoughts from the drive. She had to admit she too had a sudden compulsion to ask for help from a higher power. In a strange way, she felt connected to this power. She concealed those thoughts from Rivers and changed the subject.
“Deondra, I’m here to ask for a favor.”
Rivers did not respond. Her eyes were a million miles away. Her body was tense, wooden, arms folded across her chest.
“Dudek told me the final phase of the plan is in motion.”
“Do you have any clue as to what that is?”
“Yes, I had a vision last night. The perps are going to involve the President in the attack. A dinner will be held in a few hours at the White House. I believe that’s where everything will go down. It all makes sense. President Duncan is meeting with Iranian officials to discuss nuclear disarmament. If those talks were to go badly, I fear a nuclear missile might be fired.”
Rivers began to pace around the perimeter of her couch. “What kind of plan involves blowing up the world?”
“A sick one. That’s why I need your help and I need it now.”
“My hands are tied, Agent Diggs.”
“No, they’re not. The people who helped take away your badge and gun are the same ones launching this plan. You must agree it’s time for an unconventional approach.”
“Well, how would I even get into the White House?”
“I thought about that on the drive over. Where’s your closet?”
“In the bedroom, why?”
Diggs didn’t wait for Rivers’s permission. Scurrying across Deondra’s parquet floor, Diggs traversed the living room to pop through an open door directly ahead. Once through, she swerved right, finding a chic line of clothes hanging before her.
“What are you up to, Caitlin??”
Diggs did not answer. Rivers watched Caitlin rummage in silence through her walk-in closet. Her heart raced. She suspected whatever Diggs was up to was illegal. The rustle of clothes and coat hangers continued for what seemed an eternity. Finally, Diggs pulled out a pair of black pants and a collared white shirt. “These will do.”
“I don’t think they’ll fit you, Caitlin.”
“Don’t worry, Deondra, I’m not here to take your clothes. I want you to change into these.”
“Why?”
“They’re your ticket into the White House.”
***
President Duncan learned about the FBI showdown as medics transported Dudek to DC General Hospital. DC Police were following protocol put in place by the commander-in-chief. He was to know about any further incidents involving assaults upon public officials before the media did. The President enlisted the aid of Vice President Edmond Icker.
“I don’t have time to interview him personally, Edmond. I’m depending upon you to squeeze Assistant Director Dudek for any information that will explain why Director Hainsworth was crushed to death. And while you’re at it, please find out what he was doing at a hockey rink in the first place.”
Icker acknowledged the President’s request without question, well aware of the need to assuage Iran’s concerns about recent attacks on US officials. How in the hell could the President preach peace to Iran when his own country was mired in barbarianism? Icker desperately needed Dudek to confirm his cover story. If Dudek was somehow coerced into killing Hainsworth because of drugs, much like Gregory Salinger, the President just might be able to salvage the peace talks.
Icker’s limo wove in and out of Saturday morning traffic moments later. The Vice President arrived at DC General in time to observe medics lifting Dudek out of the ambulance and onto a stretcher. He rushed to the scene with a bodyguard in tow.
“Sir, you’ve got to stand back.” The EMT extended his arm to keep the Vice President and his burly security guard at bay. As soon as he did, something, or more accurately, someone, began to assume consciousness in Dudek’s injured body.
Aleister Crowley awoke, finding himself inside Dudek, recalling the events at the arena. He had body-jumped out of Hainsworth’s dying body and into Dudek. Ironically, he had only been able to accomplish this feat with the aid of Agent Diggs. If she had not provided a conduit, he would have ceased to exist once Hainsworth’s body succumbed to death.
Dudek’s body now carried two souls. If the assistant director had been in better health, Crowley might have been easily ousted from his newest residence. Two souls could not survive in one body for long, though Crowley didn’t require a lengthy stay. The end of the world was forthcoming. He began to formulate a new game plan, reveling in the delicious irony. Diggs had unwittingly aided him with the help of the magical robe and her own inner light. This confirmed she was indeed destined to bring humanity into the Golden Mean Spiral. Things were looking up despite Hainsworth’s demise.
The thought of Hainsworth suddenly sickened Crowley. His pride had gotten him killed. Crowley thanked the gods for his good fortune. Despite Hainsworth’s folly, he had not only survived but could now employ several options. He could remain in Dudek’s body and hope the assistant director lived long enough for the ascension. Or, he could try to take up shop in Vice President Icker’s body. There, he would be able to ensure a nuclear launch would take place. He wouldn’t need to rely on psychotropic drugs or alchemic crutches to accomplish this task. With Icker’s aid, he could condemn every man, woman and child on the planet to death. And better yet, he wouldn’t have to rely on the inexperienced Apprentice to carry out his plan. The body jump into Icker grew more enticing with each passing second.
The medics wheeled Dudek just out of reach of Icker. This didn’t daunt Crowley in the least. The magician instead took comfort in his resolve. He would wait patiently while Dudek underwent surgery. It would only take an hour or so. Then, afterward, when the Vice President was
perhaps engaged in a handshake or embrace with the recovering assistant director, Crowley would take advantage of the power Caitlin Diggs had unwittingly given him. He would take up residence in the body of Vice President Icker to ensure the end of the world and the beginning of his reign in heaven.
***
Cynthia Willis pushed a lock of her strawberry blond hair away from her tear-filled eyes. The Master had told her to wait in the abandoned church when the time was near. He was nowhere to be seen. Why had he abandoned her? Had she not served him faithfully over the last few months? She had engaged in numerous sexual ceremonies with the Apprentice, not as a whore or wench, but as a Priestess whose sole mission was to fortify the Master’s power. She had even cut her hand so he could drink drops of her blood. Most recently, she took out one of the Master’s enemies with the help of psychotropic drugs. She believed she had performed honorably for the Master. What more could she do to prove her love? Why had he left her feeling as abandoned as the four rotting walls around her?
If Cynthia had turned on a radio or television she might have placed the face of Connah Hainsworth as that of her Master. Cynthia never knew the Master masked himself in the guise of an FBI director by day. She was told not to let the mass media poison her soul. For that reason, she avoided radio, television, newspapers and the internet the way a vampire might avoid the light of day. She believed the orgies she engaged in were for a higher purpose, even when she was in the throes of multiple orgasms. She had come here today to celebrate, to earn her place in the spiral. But right now, she only experienced pity.
A black drape of despair hung around her body. It was as if the dilapidated church was a cold, dark shawl, and the dank chill had finally begun to permeate her soul. She had never once seen the church in this dismal light. She had not noticed one single cockroach or rat. But today, the dark, the cold, the roaches and the rats conspired in tandem to shake her resolve, to chill the human body she had come to see as a fortress of love for her Master. She doubted him. She doubted herself. She cursed herself for her folly. She entertained the notion she was a fool. Because she was so sure her sexual encounters with the Apprentice were bringing her closer to godhood, she believed the Master when he told her ascension was near. Therefore, she stopped taking precautions.
She used a credit card to purchase the water used to start the Fort Belvoir Massacre. She used it again to take up residence in a hotel. She used her car to force the water deliveryman off the road. She allowed herself to be used as a tool. She had been an implement for the Apprentice. He had used her to feed his lust. She realized this now. She had pushed doubt to the back of her mind. If she hadn’t, she would have realized sex would never satiate the appetite of the Apprentice a long time ago.
Against the wishes of his Master, the Apprentice suggested they kill the water deliveryman. Cynthia didn’t really believe this was necessary. But hindsight was the only thing she possessed in abundance right now. She began to see the Apprentice in his true light, stripping away his black cloak of deception. She saw a murderer, a man incapable of ascension. She wondered why the Master relied so heavily upon him. She began to gag on vomit. The idea of sex with the Apprentice sickened her.
The black walls of the church began to dance. She stumbled and staggered back into the light of day, fighting the urge to vomit. She composed herself enough to hail a taxi. She returned to her hotel with the intention of disobeying her Master. She believed the television might explain her misfortune. During the ride, she dwelled upon the choices she had made, feeling sorry only for Cynthia Willis, never once reflecting upon the imminent deaths of billions.
Once inside the hotel, she began to doubt her sudden change of heart. The television informed her the Master had been killed. She chastised herself for ever doubting him, resolving to stand on her own two feet, to live his dream of ascension for him. She was and still is a Priestess , and she could still make the ascension.
Her blaring television and newfound optimism concealed the first knocks upon her door. She only became aware of a presence when a man shouted, “DC Police!”
Cynthia greeted the officers by flinging off her robe. Her bare breasts bounced joyfully around a black cross. It hung upside down off a necklace. The officers were too agog to take the beautiful naked woman into custody. Their hesitation afforded Cynthia the opportunity to grab a potion off a nearby table. She threw it in their faces. They fell to their knees, engaged in coughing fits. Cynthia escaped down the hall. She plunged down a set of stairs and found an unauthorized exit, setting off an alarm.
Moments later Cynthia played naked hopscotch, skipping along the roofs of cars on a nearby street. Police were in pursuit again. This time, Captain Kenneth Marcotte led the charge, followed by two male officers on the opposite side of the road. All of their mouths were wide open, not from panting, but from awe. Amazingly, they gained ground on the naked woman. All other foot chases during their lifetimes would pale in comparison. They ran swift as deer, with the energy of teens. Their mix of awe and lust eventually allowed Marcotte and his men to surpass Cynthia. Marcotte zagged right, his momentum catapulted him across the road. Just before he reached it, Cynthia launched her body off a car and onto the captain, knocking him down. She landed on top of him, straddling his chest, shouting the same phrase over and over. “Let your inner Goddess shine!”
Marcotte’s lust transformed into fear. His officers pulled Cynthia off the stunned, frog-eyed captain. He shouted to deflect attention away from the naked woman.
“Get her into a car, and get a damn blanket around her.”
Later, in a cell, Cynthia Willis became adamant. She demanded her captors address her only as Priestess. A guard humored her. She nodded back at him and fell into a trance. Sitting in the lotus position, hands clasped together in prayer, she awaited her ascension.
Chapter 31
The agents stood outside the North Portico of the White House, awaiting entry. In the distance, the National Monument loomed before them. A glint of sunlight bounced off the top of the memorial, reminding Agent Diggs only a fine line separated life from death. She believed the very fate of humanity would all come down to this afternoon’s Presidential dinner. Iranian officials would meet with the President and Secretary of State in under an hour in the State Room. The commander-in-chief remained cautiously optimistic Iran would agree to terminate its nuclear energy program. Most countries, including the United States, were not entirely convinced Iran wasn’t using the program to build nuclear bombs.
Diggs suspected the man in black, the one responsible for her abduction, was among the doubters. If Iran did possess missiles or bombs, it might only take a little bad diplomacy to launch a nuclear holocaust. Diggs surmised this man would carry Hainsworth and Crowley’s twisted plan to fruition by prompting either the US or Iran to engage in a nuclear attack. He would probably accomplish this with the same modus operandi as before, with the use of psychotropic drugs.
Hainsworth had boasted to Dudek that the final phase was in motion and, according to Det. Stanford Carter, the man in black worked for the government in a security capacity. With Hainsworth’s demise, this man now posed the prime threat to the world’s security. By rights, he had also become the prime suspect regarding Greg Salinger’s death, the attack on Senator Ralston, as well as the Fort Belvoir Massacre. Diggs was sure this man was inside the White House at this very moment, conspiring to kill every being on the planet.
Flanked by two security guards, the Chief Usher greeted the agents. The agents were only allowed to step a meter inside the building, before their identification was requested. Rivers shivered more in response to the usher’s request than the dank weather. Dressed in a knee length coat, she stood behind Diggs, tentative about her mission. Diggs, who sported a red coat, acted as boldly as her color choice, flashing her badge without hesitation. Rivers sheepishly held her photo ID out for inspection, dangling it above Diggs’s left shoulder.
“Please state your business,” the usher said.
Rivers disappeared behind Diggs, fearing her immediate arrest.
“We believe the President’s life is in danger,” Diggs answered. “Because this is a sensitive matter, we must meet with Secret Service immediately.”
The usher frowned with disapproval. Diggs realized he already must be privy to the morning’s events. She couldn’t very well tell the man she was under the director’s orders. Yet she knew this man would never acquiesce to her request unless she gave him something substantial.
“Sir, I believe Director Hainsworth was killed this morning for allowing a security breach. The extent of this breach affects all government agencies. That means the Secret Service could also be compromised. You must let me in to protect the President.”
The usher frowned again. If what Agent Diggs had told him was true, there would no way to confirm her suspicions. “You’re implying an FBI conspiracy, agent . If you are, how do I know I can trust you?”
“I know that a man working for the secret service is in league with the conspirators.”
“And how do you know this?” a blond security guard inquired. His steel blue eyes remained fixated on Diggs. Like a cornered animal, Diggs returned his gaze with equal intensity.
“There’s no time to explain. You must let me coordinate security efforts with those in charge of the Presidential dinner.” Diggs pulled out her gun and raised it to the ceiling. “Get me who’s in charge now, or I’ll arrest the three of you for conspiracy!”