And now here he was in Connecticut, looking on during a tribunal conducted by Johannson.
Coincidence? I think not.
The only thing that remained to be seen was whether Riley was the star witness or the accused.
Johannson didn’t waste any time getting started.
“Step forward, Knight Captain,” he said.
Riley did as he was told, crossing the room to stand before the judges’ platform. He tried to catch Ferguson’s eye, hoping the other man could give him a sense of what was coming, but the Seneschal didn’t bother to look in his direction.
Riley wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.
While he was still trying to puzzle it out, Preceptor Johannson picked up his gavel and banged it three times on its base. He stared coldly down at Riley and let his voice carry for the recorders on the far side of the room to pick it up clearly.
“This tribunal is called to order. Knight Captain Matthew Riley, you are called here today to stand trial for aiding and abetting a known enemy of the Order, namely one Cade Williams, and for allowing that enemy to escape unharmed in the aftermath of a battle in which several of your brethren were killed. Quite possibly by Williams himself. How do you plead?”
Riley stared at the Preceptor for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, and then looked at the other two men in turn. It was clear from their expressions that they had most likely already made up their minds regarding his guilt or innocence and he wasn’t betting on the latter.
Fuck them, Riley thought.
He stepped forward and in a clear, loud voice for the record replied, “Innocent.”
Now all he had to do was prove it.
CHAPTER NINE
Please take a seat, Captain,” Ochoba said, indicating the chair in front of the platform with his hand.
Riley did as he was told.
As soon as he was seated, Inquisitor Daniels stepped forward and extended a Bible in front of Riley.
The Templar veteran didn’t need to be told what to do; he placed his right hand on the book and looked up to meet the Inquisitor’s gaze.
“Do you swear before God and before your oath to the Order to tell the truth and nothing but the truth on pain of excommunication and death?”
Lying under oath was not something Riley took lightly and he knew the next several minutes were going to put him to the test, but still he didn’t hesitate, knowing that those on the tribunal panel would see if he did and would most certainly use it as evidence of his guilt.
“I do,” he said, in a clear and steady voice.
If they weren’t too specific with their questioning, he might even be able to keep that promise, even with an Inquisitor asking the questions.
At least now he understood what the man was doing here. It had long been rumored that the Inquisitors were specifically chosen for their ability to discern between truth and falsehood, a gift given to them by the Lord to aid in the Templar mission to protect mankind from the darkness that surrounded them. The Inquisitor’s very presence made it clear that the Preceptors were taking this very seriously and that they were hoping to catch Riley in a lie.
Doing so would not only condemn him, but the men who had been with him at the time.
He couldn’t afford to let that happen. He was going to have to beat the Inquisitor at his own game, answering truthfully enough to escape detection while at the same time protecting the men who had dared to serve alongside him that night.
One thing was certain; it wasn’t going to be easy.
The Inquisitor stepped to the side and handed the Bible to an assistant who had, until that moment, gone unnoticed by Riley. The two men exchanged a few words and then the Inquisitor returned, taking up a position a few feet in front of the tribunal’s platform, facing Riley.
The questioning began.
“Please state your name and rank for the record.”
“Knight Captain Matthew Riley.”“And your current position?”
“Acting commander of the Echo Team.”
They went on like that for several minutes, establishing the duties he held, the command structure within the unit, and the like. Riley answered as succinctly as he could, wanting to establish a kind of baseline for his answers so that when he was deliberately short later on, it wouldn’t seem unusual.
At last, they got down to the stuff that mattered.
“According to your report, on the night in question you received a tip that former Knight Commander Williams was seen in the vicinity of the abandoned Undercliff Sanatorium, gathered a team, and went to investigate, is that correct?”
“Yes.”
And it was correct, according to his report, which was the question Daniels had asked, after all.
“Where did the tip come from?”
“I don’t know.”
That, too, was a safe answer. He didn’t know where the tip had come from, for the simple fact that he’d made the tip up for his report and hadn’t considered where it was supposed to have originated.
Again the truth, to a certain degree.
The Inquisitor paused, looking down his nose at Riley and frowning as if he’d just smelled something putrid.
“You received a tip and you don’t know where that tip came from?”
Riley decided it was time to the rattle his questioner a little. He ignored the look the man was giving him and addressed his response to the tribunal judges, as if the Inquisitor wasn’t even there. He knew it would tick the man off, at the very least, and throwing the Inquisitor off his stride emotionally might allow his half-truths to slip past when the time came.
Like now.
“The tip was anonymous; by definition, that means we don’t know where it came from.”
Inquisitor Daniels stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the judges.
“You acted on an anonymous tip? You expect us to believe that?”
“We act on anonymous tips all the time.”
Which was a safe answer, as it was true; they did act on anonymous tips on a regular basis.
Riley didn’t miss the glance the Inquisitor gave the judges, nor the signal that Ochoba gave in return to just get on with things.
Johannson was apparently letting Ochoba run the show and Riley had to admit that it was a good tactic. It would prevent him from claiming bias on Johannson’s part based on their previous interactions and would make any decision handed down from the tribunal seem to have greater weight. Unfortunately for Johannson, Ochoba was known to have very little patience.
Riley had to resist the urge to smile as his questioner looked flustered for a moment before he got his thoughts in order and changed direction.
“What happened when you and your team arrived at the scene?”
“We discovered Knight Commander Williams in a pitched battle with the Adversary and its allies. Given that I considered the latter more of a threat to the Order than I did Commander Williams, I ordered my men to attack the Adversary and its allies.”
The Inquisitor’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Riley. “So you admit to intentionally not engaging with Williams, despite the fact he was a wanted fugitive and a designated enemy of the Order?”
Technically, Riley knew they could nail him on that point alone. The Templar Rule, the codified set of instructions and behaviors that all Templars lived by, indicated that a knight was to engage an enemy of the Order where and whenever they were encountered, for they were deemed dangerous enough that their very presence could disrupt the balance between good and evil in the world. In a perfect situation, Riley would have split his forces and attacked both targets at the same time.
Thankfully, this situation had been far from perfect.
“Given the nature of the long-standing order to attack the being known as the Adversary on sight, I determined that it was best to follow the adage that the “enemy of my enemy is my friend.” In other words, I took advantage of the fact that the Adversary was already engaged with Knight Commander
Williams to open up a second front against the creature.”
“Your decision resulted in the deaths of two of your men, didn’t it?”
Riley felt his anger rising and fought to control it. He glared at the Inquisitor a moment – long enough to make the man take a step back at the look on Riley’s face – and then turned his attention to the judges. Neither Johannson or Ochoba were paying much attention to what was being said; they fully intended to find him guilty, Riley realized. But to his surprise, Mombasa was following the byplay with sharp interest. Anything that concerned the welfare of the men living at Ravensgate was sure to catch his attention and the Inquisitor had all but accused Riley of getting those men killed intentionally. If he could convince Mombasa that he’d acted properly, he might just slip the noose.
A conviction required a unanimous vote, after all.
“We’ve lost men every single time we’ve fought the Adversary. Opening up two fronts – one against Commander Williams and one against the Adversary – would most likely have resulted in even more casualties.”
The Inquisitor opened his mouth to say something, but Riley spoke over him.
“By choosing the course of action that I did, my team and I were able to defeat those working in conjunction with the Adversary. Yes, two of my men died in the attack; O’Connor took a bullet in the throat, killing him instantly, while Mills succumbed to his injuries before we could get him into surgery. But their sacrifice was not in vain, for it allowed Commander Williams to use the power of the Spear to defeat the Adversary at last.”
Riley was about to continue when General Mombasa interrupted.
“Commander Williams was able to activate the Spear? You’re certain of that?”
A shiver ran up Riley’s spine as he recalled the blasts of arcane power the Spear had produced and how devastating they’d been against the Adversary’s human allies. “Yes, I’m sure.”
The garrison commander seemed visibly stunned by the news that an enemy of the Order had used a holy relic in a battle, against a fallen angel, no less, and a spark of hope quickened in Riley’s chest.
Please let him see the truth, Lord, he thought.
Mombasa didn’t say anything further and the questioning continued in a similar vein for another thirty minutes. It was all a big game of cat and mouse, with the Inquisitor trying to force Riley into saying something that would reveal his complicity in Commander Williams’ illegal actions. Riley did his best to avoid incriminating himself while still answering each question as truthfully as he could.
Riley’s voice was starting to go hoarse from the constant back and forth when Ochoba abruptly stood. He beckoned for the Inquisitor to approach the platform and spoke to him for several minutes in a voice too low for Riley to hear. From his perspective it looked like the Inquisitor was objecting to something, but Ochoba dismissed his concerns and waved him away.
Turning, he addressed those in the room.
“Earlier we had the opportunity to question those who were present that evening and now we’ve heard the testimony of Captain Riley himself. I think we have more than enough evidence to come to a conclusion, so I’m formally calling for a vote on the question of Captain Riley’s guilt or innocence.”
Ochoba looked straight at Riley as he said, “I vote guilty.”
Big surprise there, Riley thought.
Ochoba turned to Johannson. “Preceptor?”
Johannson’s vote was never in doubt either. “Guilty.”
That left only Mombasa, but the fact that the man wouldn’t meet his gaze wasn’t a good sign. The room seemed to grow several degrees colder as the garrison commander opened his mouth to render judgment.
“Not guilty.”
Riley wasn’t sure if he’d heard correctly. Apparently, Preceptor Johannson was having the same problem, for he was staring at his colleague in unabashed amazement.
“I’m sorry,” Johannson said, “it sounded like you said, ‘Not guilty’.”
Mombasa rose, glanced at Riley, and then addressed the others. “Yes, that’s what I said. Not guilty. And as I do believe that closes these proceedings, I’ll take my leave. Good day, gentlemen.”
And before anyone could stop him, Mombasa crossed the room and disappeared out the door, leaving everyone, including Riley, staring in his wake.
CHAPTER TEN
An hour later the intelligence inhabiting the body of Seneschal Ferguson stood lost in thought in the back of Preceptor Johannson’s office as he and his aide went through the day’s contact reports, deciding what needed to be dealt with and where Templar resources would be sent the next day.
The trial of Captain Riley had not gone as planned and that failure, small though it was, annoyed the Seneschal greatly. Riley should have been found guilty; Johannson had stacked the deck against him for just that purpose. But, as it turned out, the Preceptor didn’t have as tight a reign on those beneath him as he’d led Ferguson to believe and, thanks to rebellion in the ranks, Riley had gone free. Now they were going to have to find some other pretense to remove the Echo Team leader from his command.
Either that or manufacture a situation that generates the same result, Ferguson thought. Riley is a good soldier but he certainly isn’t infallible, as his latest mission illustrates. Maybe all I need to do is give the man some extra rope and let him hang himself.
He had been working to destabilize the Templar Order from within for some time now and those efforts were finally reaching a critical phase. Men like Riley, and Williams before him, were a nuisance, nothing more, but he’d just as soon have them out of the way before the final push to subvert the Order got underway along with the rest of his plan.
It seemed the old adage was true; if he wanted it done right, he was going to have to do it himself.
He was pondering how he might carry that out when something Johannson’s aide said brought him out of his reverie. He turned, focusing his attention back on the other two men just as the Preceptor asked his aide to repeat himself.
“They’re calling her the Miracle Woman of Juarez, sir.”
Johannson sniffed the air and looked at the aide as if the man had stepped in a pile of dog shit and then tracked it into the office behind him. “Who in heaven’s name is that? And why should I care?”
To his credit, the aide didn’t flinch at the Preceptor’s tone. Perhaps he’d long grown used to it. Instead, he simply answered the man’s question.
“Three weeks ago a woman with a severe head injury woke up after spending considerable time in a coma. The doctor who treated her has publically stated that he never expected her to regain consciousness given the extensive damage she suffered. He has, in fact, insisted that it was physically impossible for her to do so. Not only did she wake up, but she is fully functional and has no physical signs that she had been injured in the first place. The damage to her skull and the scars left behind by the extensive surgery that was used to keep her alive have all vanished. The locals are convinced that she’s been healed by the hand of God.”
Johannson sighed. “We get a thousand reports of such “miraculous healings” in any given month. What gives this one any more relevance than any of the others?”
For the first time since entering the room, the aide looked uncomfortable. He hesitated, trying to find a way to answer the question without angering the Preceptor only to end up doing just that with his delay.
“Out with it, man. Don’t just stand there!”
“Yes, sir. When the woman first awoke, she apparently asked to see her husband.”
Johannson scowled. “So?”
“The man she asked for, the man she claims is her husband, is named Cade Williams.”
“Coincidence, no more,” Johansson said, but Ferguson wasn’t sure. His intuition was practically screaming at him to pay attention and he’d learned to trust it. There was something important about this “miracle woman,” it was saying, something that could have unexpected consequences on his plans for the future. He needed to
deal with it now before things got out of hand.
Johannson had already decided otherwise, however. “Mark it as reviewed and file it with the rest of…”
Ferguson interrupted. “If I may, Preceptor?”
The other man turned to face him. “Of course, Seneschal,” Johannson said, trying to curry favor as always.
Ferguson turned and addressed the aide. “Just how reliable is the source of this information?”
“We have automated systems that monitor various databases for specific keyword triggers, Seneschal. Knight Commander Williams’ name was added to that trigger list several months ago at Preceptor Johannson’s request. This alert was spawned from that automated system.”
Ferguson nodded as if he were well aware of the information he’d just been given, when in reality it was all new to him. The real Ferguson would most likely have known it, but he was not that man. Still, appearances must be kept up and all that. He would reveal himself when it was time to do so and not a second before.
“Yes, I understand how it was obtained,” he said to the aide. “What I’m asking about is the reliability of the information itself. How do you know that the Cade Williams this woman is referring to is, in fact, the Cade Williams that was until recently a member of this Order?”
“We don’t,” the aide replied without hesitation. “Not with any certainty, at least. There are one hundred and eight other Cade Williams living in North America and the woman could have been referring to any one of them, I suppose.”
“And yet it struck you as important enough to bring to the Preceptor. Why is that?”
For the first time the aide looked decidedly uncomfortable as he said, “It just didn’t…feel right, Seneschal.”
Ferguson stared at the man. “It didn’t feel right?”
The aide nodded, though none too eagerly. Apparently telling the Order’s second-most senior officer that he was acting on little more than gut instinct wasn’t something he was all that proud of.
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