Logging onto the internet he brings up Google’s homepage and types in ‘Caesar shift five’ before hitting enter. In moments the results are displayed on the screen.
“It’s a type of code that Caesar reportedly used to communicate with his army.”
Clark raises his eyebrows as he asks, “Does it mention how to decode it?”
“Yeah,” Will mumbles as he concentrates on the tiny screen. “Apparently it was a simple substitution cipher.”
“Didn’t look that simple to me.” Clark comments as he temporarily takes one hand off the steering wheel, causing the car to swerve slightly on the ice encrusted road.
Regaining control he looks over at the peaked face of his passenger offering a mumbled apology.
Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, Will illustrates “The mechanics are simple. The Caesar shift cipher replaced each letter in the alphabet with a corresponding letter a set number of spaces away.
“So then if the number was nine then ‘a’ would become ‘j’ once encoded, ‘b’ would become ‘k’ and so on like that. That has to be what Lydekker meant by five—it has to be the key!”
“Well,” Clark prompts “Work it out and tell me what it says.”
Nodding, Will sets to work on decoding the message. Taking a pad of paper and a pen from the glove compartment he works in silence for several minutes, taking the message apart letter by letter.
When he’s finished he looks up and out the windshield at the burgeoning blizzard for a few moments before ripping the sheet of paper off the pad and handing it over to Clark.
Flattening it against the steering wheel, Clark reads the decoded message:
LC AT CRATER LAKE
KILLING WALT AND SAID
HE MUST NOT SURVIVE
“It’s orders for a hit,” Clark breathes. “Jacob was supposed to kill someone at Crater Lake.”
“Well judging by what Jacob was doing at Mary’s, I’d say there’s a good chance that LC isn’t exactly a boy scout.”
Setting his strobes to flashing Clark ekes out as much speed as he can muster from the car. “Hang on,” he says to Will as they plow on through the storm.
The sound of voices above echoes off the rock walls reaching Walt’s ears in a rush. He has no doubt now that he’s been found and that he’s been betrayed.
A black mass of anger roils inside his considerable stomach at the mere thought of it.
That son of a bitch set me up! Glancing over his shoulder at Kazim in the shadows of the cave he bristles. He set me up real good.
“You hear that Sheriff,” Kazim gloats “What did I tell you, huh?”
Clenching his jaw he grinds his teeth in impotent rage. That’s it! Stalking towards Kazim he whips an old cloth handkerchief out of his back pocket; brandishing it in front of him with all the flourish of a magician who has just pulled a rabbit out of a hat.
“You may be right,” he hisses, his cold voice resonating off the stone around them. “But I’m not going to listen to it anymore.”
Twirling the handkerchief between his hands he winds it up as tight as he can get it and then thrusts it into Kazim’s mouth.
Kazim tries to fight him off but with his hands shackled behind him there is little he can do and soon enough his mouth is forced open and the gag is put in place. Tying it off behind his head Walt whispers in his ear “This ought to keep you quiet.”
His eyes bulging from the indignity of his situation Kazim curses and groans but is unable to speak around the gag in his mouth.
Hearing the resonance of footsteps, Walt grabs Kazim by the cuffs with one hand hauling him to his feet. With his other hand he places his revolver next to Kazim’s ear.
Taunting him he breathes putrid breath on his neck “What was that you said before about someone shooting first and asking questions later?” From his spot behind Kazim he lets out a low laugh, “What’s say we see if you’re right about that too.”
Ephemeral blue and red lights appear suddenly through the curtain of white as Clark brings his cruiser to a skidding halt.
Turning to Will he orders “Stay in the car.”
“No way,” he protests.
“Will I’m serious. This could be dangerous.”
With a sly wink Will opens his door saying, “Good,” before he disappears behind the veil of blinding white snow.
Cursing under his breath Clark follows him out into the elements hurrying towards the shelter of the cave. The wind howls in his ears as snow and ice bite into the exposed skin on his face. He’s unable to see two feet in front of him.
“Clark?” Dodson looks at him surprised as he appears from behind the cover of snow. “What are you doing here?”
Shaking the snow from his clothes Clark looks around the dank cave. “Sullivan? Where’s Will?”
“Will?” Dodson repeats with a shrug of his shoulders.
Looking back out at the falling snow Clark takes a reluctant step towards the storm when Will materializes from behind the cover of white.
“What’s going on?”
Turning back to Dodson Clark asks, “Where’s the FBI?”
“They moved on Walt about three minutes ago.”
Shivering in his wet clothes Will sneezes and swears. “Where did they go?” he asks wiping his nose.
“Who is this guy?”
“You know him Dodson,” Clark explains “He’s Will Sullivan.”
“What’s he doing here? What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Mary’s.”
Ignoring the questions Clark asks, “Who went down after Walt?”
Seeing the resolve in his expression Dodson answers “Agents Fine, O’Malley, and Myers from the FBI, Smith and Owens, Covington from Homeland, and the doctor from the CDC along with Walt’s son and wife. Why?”
Clark looks at Will who asks “What’s Covington’s first name?”
“Lance, I think” Dodson cautiously answers.
“What cave are they moving on?”
“The one they found Markov in.”
Pointing at Dodson Clark orders “Make sure that Will stays put up here.”
“You can’t go down there Clark. FBI orders are that no one goes in.”
“Covington’s not on our side,” Clark hollers over his shoulder as he hurries deeper into the caves “He’s going to kill Walt and El Said!”
The inky blackness in front of them is barely penetrated by their thin flashlight beams as they move down the tunnel.
Caleb is leading the party with Lynne close at his hip. The two officers flank Covington while O’Malley brings up the rear with Myers and the Anjou’s.
The air this far underground is still and humid causing Caleb to wipe the sweat from his forehead at regular intervals. After the chaos of the surface, the deep is eerily calm.
Glancing back at Lynne he thinks again about asking her to turn around and head back to the surface. And once again the look of determination on her face stays his tongue.
“What’s that smell?”
Raising a hand bringing them to a halt Caleb looks back at Gord Smith. In the sparse light his face appears sallow and tired.
“Smoke,” he sniffs at the air in answer. “They must be using candles for light. We’re getting close now. No sudden movements. I don’t want to startle him.”
Pointing his flashlight to the back of their convoy he illuminates Myers saying, “Stay here with them until we determine the situation. Everyone else, let’s move out.”
Following the local cop, Lance Covington keeps one hand firmly on his sidearm. His orders are simple—shoot on sight.
They may be simple orders but the execution could prove to be complex given the amount of law enforcement between him and his targets. Not for the first time he scans the way ahead focusing on Caleb Fine.
He’s sure that he’s the main obstacle between his success and failure. He hates to think it but he might have to take him down to succeed.
Seeing the man look back at the doctor
again he smiles to himself. Then again, he thinks maybe I can take him out simply by felling her.
In an instant the tense calm is broken as Caleb leads them around a corner into a lighted cave where Lance sees Walt standing in the center of the space holding a gun on Kazim.
“Put the gun down!” Caleb barks at him.
“Not a chance,” Walt shakes his head as he presses the gun tighter to Kazim’s neck.
Taking in the scene Lance flexes his hand over his weapon desperate to take the shot and be done with this. Yet with two cops so close to him and two other FBI agents around him he needs to be patient if he’s to escape after the hit.
“Calm down Walt,” Caleb tries to placate him by raising his hands to him in a defenseless posture. “We don’t want anyone to get hurt here. Let Kazim go and we can talk.”
Sneering Walt spits back “Do you take me for a fool? I let him go and you shoot me sure as I’m standing here. No deal.”
“That’s not going to happen Walt,” Caleb motions down the line of officers “Everyone keep your hands away from your weapons.”
One by one each of them slowly take their hands away from their waists—except for one.
“What’s happening?”
Myers shines his light at Gaetano as he answers, “We’re just waiting for a signal. If you’re lucky, you may not even be needed.”
Gasping Olivia covers her mouth as she cries “What does that mean? The man said he wasn’t going to hurt Walt.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Myers quickly moves to calm her down “I just meant that your husband might surrender without seeing you.”
“No,” Guy mumbles under his breath.
“What was that?”
“He’s not going to surrender.” Guy looks at the pained look on his mother’s face for only a brief second before turning away. “I know him better than that and I’m not going to just sit here and do nothing.”
Before Myers can react Guy slips away in the gloom of the tunnel. “Hey come back!” he shouts after him but is drowned out by the frightened wailing of Olivia Anjou.
Her desperate pleas for her son serve not only to confuse Myers but to guide another through the shadows towards the light.
“Lance,” Caleb calmly says “Take your hand away from your gun.”
Feeling numerous eyes crawling all over him Lance remains perfectly rigid—his hand unmoving.
Looking out into the space he locks eyes with Kazim and sees the recognition there. The bound and gagged man starts grunting and groaning in what Lance knows is a desperate attempt to alert the others to him.
As he grips the butt of his revolver he hears the shouts starting from behind them in the tunnel. The focus of the room shifts away from him towards the young man hurrying in from out of the darkness.
Now is the time…
Pulling his sidearm he’s bumped from behind by the intruder and knocked to the side as Gaetano pushes his way between Lance and his targets.
“Dad!” Guy screams “You got to stop this now. Nobody else needs to get hurt.”
Walt tightens his grip on Kazim as he scrunches his nose up at the appearance of his son. “Dad?” he questions “I thought you had no father?”
“Walt,” Caleb interjects “Listen to him and no one has to get hurt.”
Walt stares at his son with dead eyes for a chilling moment before turning to Caleb saying “Yes they do…someone always has to get hurt.”
The shot is deafening in the confines of the cave. Kazim jerks free of Walt’s grip from the force of the impact. Another bullet rips towards Walt.
Caleb instinctively pulls Lynne to the ground as he hollers unheard in the cacophony of gunfire “CEASEFIRE! CEASEFIRE!”
Bullets ricochet around the cave as Walt is struck once, twice, then two more times in the stomach before collapsing backwards to the ground having never returned fire.
From his spot face down on the ground Caleb sees the dumbfounded expression on his face before he’s felled. He never saw it coming…
“CEASEFIRE! CEASEFIRE!!”
From her spot under Caleb, Lynne looks up to see Lance firing at Kazim who’s crumpled over near the wall. Shadows leap wildly around the cave as the blowback from the gunfire extinguishes some of the candles.
Before the last candle goes out she sees the aftermath of a bullet ripping through Lance’s shoulder. His gun drops to the ground as he topples after it.
She locks eyes across the cavern with a familiar face. Crouched in a shooter’s stance by the entrance to the cave she sees Clark Starling aiming his sidearm at the fallen agent.
For a time the echo of gunfire still rings off the stone deafening all those in the cave. Eventually though voices can again be heard above the din.
“Walt’s down!”
“Kazim’s been hit!”
“Lance has been hit bad!”
“Said’s losing a lot of blood!”
“Fuck! He’s dying here!”
“Get the medic down here now!”
“He’s gone…he’s gone…it’s too late!”
“Christ…”
Chapter 51
November 2
There’s nothing else like the world after a heavy snowfall. With everything covered in white, the world seems so bright and clean—even pristine.
Times like that, anything seems possible.
Going over his patient’s chart one more time Dr. Henry Abbot struggles to find what he’s missing. It happened during the night.
Surrounded by so much death and misery, this one patient rose from the depths of despair like the mythical phoenix—renewed and energized.
Standing at the foot of his bed the explanation for Scott Lee’s miraculous recovery eludes Henry. He was near death just twenty hours ago—hooked up to a ventilator, it was just a matter of time.
And now, he’s breathing on his own and has regained much of the color in his skin. Flipping the chart closed, Henry shakes his head in amazement resigning himself to having to accept this as simply a miracle.
By his bedside, Jaime looks away from him towards Henry. Her eyes are brimming with tears but for the first time in days they’re not shed in sorrow.
Henry can’t help but return her beaming smile as she mouths a thank you to him before returning her attention to the one she loves.
Leaving them alone Henry places the chart on the foot of the bed pulling the curtain shut behind him.
“You should get some rest Jaime,” Scott says in a shaky voice.
Still unable to believe that he’s recovered, Jaime shakes her head saying “I’m fine. I love you so much Scott.”
“And I love you.”
“I thought I was going to lose you. I was…so scared.”
Closing his tired eyes Scott reaches out for her hand and gives it a weak squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere. It’ll take more than a little epidemic to stop me.”
Kissing his hand as another tear races down her cheek she says, “Rest now Scotty,” but he’s already passed out.
She sits holding his hand for a time basking in his healthy glow before her thoughts drift to her father. She still hasn’t heard from him. When Scott was so sick she didn’t want to chance leaving his side.
But now that he’s recovering…
Gently unwrapping her hand from his she kisses his forehead before whispering “I’ll be back,” and heading off to find her father.
It is with a heavy heart that Marcos Anjou opens the door to his church.
He’s spent much of the previous night with his wife Marie and his sister-in-law Olivia grieving over the loss of his brother Walt. He feels bone tired as it is truly exhausting work trying to console the inconsolable.
And that is exactly what Olivia is—inconsolable.
To lose her husband last night would have been bad enough, but Gaetano as well…
Of course his nephew was not shot in the melee beneath Crater Lake, and he is alive, but that makes him no less lost. His loss
is a purely spiritual one in which he has surely lost his faith in those around him—in his family.
Gaetano disappeared before Marcos and Marie could arrive at Crater Lake to pick his mother and him up. As distraught as Olivia was she had no idea where Gaetano disappeared to.
None of the assembled police force seemed to know either; having taken his statement already they seemed to have no vital interest in his whereabouts.
And so through the night while he comforted Olivia and Marie and sought comfort for himself in them, a part of him wondered about his nephew.
Where could he have gone? Why would he run away from his mother at a time like this? When and where will he turn up again?
Not once did he expect to find him here, inside the church, sitting in the front pew with the most vacant look in his swollen red eyes.
“Gaetano.”
At the sound of his name he looks over at Marcos and for a moment it’s as if he doesn’t recognize him. Then with a few blinks the moment is passed.
“Gaetano,” Marcos sits down beside him asking “What are you doing here?”
After several seconds of silence he mumbles “Nothing.”
“We’ve been worried sick about you, the way you just disappeared last night. That’s not like you. Why did you run off like that?”
“I needed to be alone for awhile so I just…walked back into town.”
Surprise etched across his face Marcos exclaims “In the storm? Why would you do that?”
As if in explanation Gaetano says, “The last words we spoke to each other were in hatred.”
Seeing his nephew’s shoulders slump Marcos puts his arm around him. “Listen to me now Gaetano, your father loved you. You must not doubt that, especially now.”
“What if I didn’t love him?” The words shock Marcos leaving him grasping for a reply and not finding one. “What kind of a person does that make me?”
“I know you better than that Gaetano. I know that your relationship with your father was never easy and that you may have been fighting recently, but I know that you loved him.”
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