by Mary Eicher
Jim had insisted on a full security check, so officers were using dogs to inspect the rooms and corridors. Hemsley felt confident the stupid plot to disrupt the conference had been foiled. The police were searching for Uberdorf and his demented followers. A task he expected to be hurriedly accomplished even though it was made all the harder since the Servants had ditched their monk’s robes and were melting away as tourists.
A tall woman dressed to the nines approached.
“Miss Andronikos,” he greeted her, taking the hand she offered between both of his. “What a pleasure to see you looking so elegant in the midst of this chaos. And may I thank you for giving us the information about this unfortunate practical joke.”
She flashed a smile. “Governor. How are things going?”
“Well. It’s going well,” he said, looking down the hall. “I think we can get started within the hour. We have only found a few defective pens; most are normal writing instruments. The others merely explode in an eruption of foul-smelling ink. Harmful enough to injure a finger or two but not exactly life threatening and hardly worth this unwarranted delay.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Delay was Uberdorf’s objective. Don’t you think we should wait until after lunch? It’s better to be cautious when Uberdorf is involved. It is highly likely this was just a nuisance maneuver. He may well have bigger plans.”
Hemsley took a deep breath. It was vitally important to him that the conference continue to its conclusion. The reports were ready, the press was set up, and the issue was too important to postpone. It would take months to assemble the large group together again if that were even possible. It had taken a miracle to get the meeting together just before the holidays in the first place. And he wanted to announce the course his new administration would be taking at his swearing-in on January 2. “I assure you we are perfectly safe. The best that prancing lunatic could do with all our security is cause a minor distraction.”
She started to say something and then demurred. Hemsley did not like to be challenged. She got the same vibe from him she’d gotten during their initial meeting. He was sincere about helping people deal with the changes the Harbinger had caused so long as things were done his way. He was a compass that only pointed north.
“Are you pleased with the work your team provided?” he asked, insinuating that she had not yet submitted the findings of her team.
She shrugged. Her habit of not answering questions irritated him once again. He looked down at his watch, eager for things to resume. “I still wonder the wisdom of letting you work on religion instead of law. I was hoping you’d be able to come up with something expositive about the Harbinger.” He gave her an accusatory frown. “It appears that may have proved too difficult.”
Her blue eyes darkened as she returned his stare. “I’m more concerned with how we live with the Harbinger than using it to help you gather power.”
He cleared his throat, unaccustomed to receiving quite so frank a retort. “Aren’t we living with the Harbinger now?” he asked, refusing to concede the high ground.
Artemis nodded at Hemsley’s chief of staff approaching rapidly with his hands forming a thumbs-up gesture. There was an enormous black stain on the front of the man’s suit.
“Do not ask!” Jim said enunciating each word. “This is the worst thing those fucking pens do. I just wanted to let you know this whole fire drill was unnecessary before I go and change.”
Hemsley turned back to continue their conversation only to find Artemis had walked away. He could hear her chuckling.
“Jesus, Sam,” his assistant said. “Even her laugh is attractive.”
*
The children fidgeted in their choir uniforms, tugging at the collars and wishing they were home playing Fortnite. They were happy to be out of regular class to practice, but that didn’t make the practice fun. A smattering of parents sat in the front pews, and Sister Barbara tried to herd the kids into making a good impression. They finished the first hymn, and she was having them turn their music sheets to the second when Randy stepped out of formation and started yelling.
“We have to go now,” he screamed and began running down the aisle. Three of his classmates jumped down from the choir stand and tore after him. Then the whole scene went chaotic. Fifteen children fled the cathedral with Sister Barbara and their parents rushing to corral them.
The kids ran to the crosswalk and waited in the rain for the “Walk” light and then tore across the boulevard before stopping halfway down the block. Sister Barbara grabbed Randy by the lobe of his ear.
“What do you think you are doing?” she said, red-faced and out of breath. She missed the good old days of parochial education when the nuns could rap a ruler along the knuckles of boys like Randy. But she just pinched his ear until he yelped and stopped trying to pull away.
“You’ll see,” he said, pointing to the cathedral. “Then you’ll be sorry you hurt my ear.”
She released her hold and told the children to form a double line. They were going to march right back and finish choir practice. One of the mothers asked her to wait a moment. They needed to calm down and let the children explain why they had run.
*
Jamil Uberdorf got it. The pens had been unmasked. He spit into a nearby bush and wiped his mouth with his rain-soaked shirt sleeve. It was a setback he could deal with. He would just have to initiate phase two a little earlier than planned. They couldn’t find every pen, and with luck, enough of the concealed ink bombs still lay in wait to make a disruption, no matter how small.
He sought shelter beneath a tree and took deep breaths to release the disappointment. Every great performance has an opening act, he thought, and most of them aren’t worth much. His next event, an explosion at the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament, would make up for the dismal results of the first diversion. It would not only tie in nicely with his war on churches; it would lock down the capitol and send his intended victims to the convention center for the finale. To activate the latter, he phoned in a bomb threat to some easily alarmed secretary in the governor’s office and chuckled at the woman’s reaction.
He put his hand in his pocket and set his finger on a special button. He loved this moment. The quiet before he detonated a bomb. He was a god in that moment. He held the power of life and death literally in the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes and drew in a sweet slow breath.
Artemis stepped silently behind him. “Hello,” she said as she gripped his shoulder and spun him around. “How you doing, Jamil?”
He caught his balance and growled at the unmistakable voice, angry that she had managed to surprise him. “Well if it isn’t tall, dyke, and gorgeous. Been missing me?”
Artemis clenched her fists. “Naw. I just stopped by to ruin your plans. Oh, yes. I know you’ve got something much more substantial in mind. You’re not only stupid, you’re predictable.”
Uberdorf closed his hand around the device in his pocket and pressed the button. An explosion roared behind him and a crimson flash lit the sky. The concussion of the blast sent a torrent of leaves and debris over them. In the distance, a pillar of smoke streamed into the overcast sky. Artemis felt a wave of nausea as the scene from Lake Isabella flashed in her mind.
Uberdorf jumped free of her and issued a victorious laugh. He stumbled forward on the rain-slicked pavement and tried to run faster than his legs could establish traction. Artemis swept his legs out from under him with a quick, smooth motion and sent him sprawling to the concrete. She kicked him hard in the crotch as he lay on his side. He curled into a fetal position and moaned. The police officer who had rushed to the exchange knelt and cuffed him and then looked up at Artemis.
She put her hands on her hips and shrugged. “I guess I didn’t need to deliver that last one. I just really don’t care for Reverend Uberdorf.”
The officer slid his hat up on his forehead and did a double take. There had been something about her eyes, he thought, but it was gone now. He grinned. “I didn’t see
you do anything, Miss. If anyone asks me, I’ll tell them Reverend Asshole here tripped and fell on his johnson.”
*
“How about the Blessed Sacrament?” Hemsley asked his chief of staff.
“Not so good, I’m afraid. The explosion was in an alcove of the cathedral and blew out several windows and part of a wall.” He wiped rainwater from his brow. “The interior is a mess, but the funny thing is the place was empty. There was a choir practice scheduled, only they had all left moments before the bomb went off. It’s weird, Sam. Not a single person was injured.”
Relief evident on his face, Hemsley thanked his chief of staff. They agreed that the explosion at the cathedral had to be Uberdorf’s work. The head of capitol security mandated an immediate evacuation of the capitol despite the terrible weather. Hemsley didn’t have time to argue the point. Now he was angry. He would brook no impediment to continuing the conference and he had an alternate venue at his disposal. They would change the venue back to the conference center while the capitol was locked down. He sent Jim to deal with the press and several guards to round up the conference attendees. They should be established in the new auditorium by 11:00. The situation well in hand, the governor made his way from the capitol to the conference center, noting the smoke still rising from the cathedral.
*
Artemis needed to change before making her presentation. Jim had texted her that they would start at 11:00 which gave her barely forty minutes. She hurried through the lobby only to hear someone calling her name. Strang stood and waved her over.
“The others are out admiring the Christmas decorations,” he said as they settled into overstuffed lobby chairs. “They bundled up against the rain. I suspect Lucy will also want to check out the explosion at the church.”
“She’s a reporter.” Artemis smiled. “I’d expect nothing less.”
Strang cleared his throat. “But I was waiting to see if you came back. I wanted to talk to you about what Angie said shortly before the bomb went off and ask you a question.”
Artemis smiled remembering Angie’s admonition to her mother about churches.
“We were just finishing our meal when the child tensed and told us to be quiet. She was listening to what she calls her angel and was most distressed for a moment. Then she sat back and told us everything was all right, suddenly perfectly happy as if nothing was wrong any longer. The change was most extraordinary.” He put his hand on his chin and tapped a finger against his lips. “I want to tell you her exact words. She said, ‘they are all out now.’ Those were her precise words. We wanted to ask her what she meant, but the explosion happened and then of course we knew.” He tugged at the lapels of his sport coat. “I heard a children’s choir was rehearsing for a Christmas pageant at the cathedral at the time. Minutes before the explosion, the children insisted that everyone had to leave the church.”
Artemis gave him a quizzical look. “What is your question, Wolf?”
“Has the child always experienced precognition, Temmie?”
Artemis ran her tongue along her lips. “I don’t know, but at least since her stroke. That’s when the voice started in her head.”
He stood and flailed his arms in the air as he was wont to do when given to thought. “Then Angie’s gift is not necessarily related to the object near the Great Rift.”
“But it is, Wolf. I know it is. It’s all connected just as you surmised.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lucy overheard the man at the counter inquire about Miss Andronikos and decided to help him out. She crossed the lobby and intercepted him as he went searching for a house phone.
“Temmie’s not here,” Lucy told him.
Jim gave her a quizzical look. “Who the hell is Temmie?”
Lucy blushed. “Sorry. I meant Artemis. Artemis Andronikos. That’s who you’re looking for, right?”
“Yeah. Do you know where I can find her?”
“She went to change clothes.” She held out her hand. “I’m Lucinda Breem, by the way. I report for the Riverside Messenger.”
He thought for a moment, shaking her hand. “You’re the one who wrote that first article about the Harbinger, right?”
She grinned. “It wasn’t called the Harbinger then. I wrote the article about the accident in Lake Isabella.”
He nodded. “So that’s how you know Miss Andronikos. Do you happen to know when she’ll be back? I need a copy of her address, and I just have time to get it into the teleprompter for her.”
Lucy studied the man’s face. “You’re James What’s-his-name, the governor’s chief of staff. I didn’t recognize you with that big stain on your suit. It kind of draws the eye, you know.”
He sighed. There wasn’t time for this. “Uh huh. Listen, I need to find Miss Andronikos.”
“She doesn’t have anything written down, James. She’s going to just say what she thinks.” She grinned. “She always does.”
Jim felt his heart sink into the familiar misery of his OCD. He needed to see the governor about removing Artemis from the schedule of speakers. No politician in his right mind would offer a speaker without knowing what they were going to say. He turned on his heel and headed to the conference center. In his head he reordered the afternoon agenda, deciding to put Dr. Fielding last or second to last if Andronikos showed up and the governor still wanted her to speak. His stomach churned, and he prayed his gut would make it through the rest of the day. The foul smell from his jacket wasn’t helping.
*
“The teleprompters are loaded in the order of the presentations.” Jim reported on the status of his to-do list. He was obsessing and looked it. “I’ve reduced each speaker’s time by fifteen minutes to get them all in. I hope nobody decides to ad-lib. With this late start, the schedule is tight. We’ve only got five hours. I don’t see how we get a Q and A session in by the end.”
Hemsley pressed down the lapels of his suit coat and straightened his tie. “We’ll go long if we have to. We’ve only lost three hours. I think we can squeeze in a half hour for a late lunch break. Thank God there weren’t any casualties at the cathedral, or I’d have been forced to cancel.”
Jim’s mind was spinning. “The media is taping the whole thing. We need to make sure they pick out the best sound bites for the evening news. The media is all about the cathedral right now. We’re not getting the live coverage we’d hoped.”
Hemsley patted his chief of staff on the bicep, careful not to touch the ink stain that had spread across Jim’s chest since he’d gotten soaked in the rain running back and forth from the cathedral.
“Stop worrying, Jim. Everything is going to go fine. We’ll get the coverage. Let’s just get this thing underway.”
He scanned the crowd assembling in the meeting hall. The huge Memorial Auditorium was filled to nearly a third of its thirty-five hundred seats. And the audience looked to consist primarily of tourists seeking a place to sit and relax with their children out of the rain. Most had come to see the aftermath of the explosion at the cathedral and got caught in a downpour.
There were a hell of a lot of children in the auditorium, Hemsley noted with a frown. To his relief, he also saw a few legislators who’d wandered over from the capitol and a good contingent of press. If nothing else, he could have his presenters speak to an empty room so long as they were recorded. He needed to get this completed.
Jim took him aside and groused about not having seen or heard from Miss Andronikos.
“I have no idea what she is going to say,” he complained. “I haven’t received anything for the teleprompter. She’s the last speaker of the conference. What if she flakes?”
“She didn’t impress me as a flake, Jim. She’s probably just had to change her clothes.” He pointed to Jim’s soaking suit and its enormous ink stain as emphasis. “She’ll be here and whatever she says, I’m sure it will be worth hearing.”
He climbed the steps to the stage and adjusted the microphone. Expressing gratitude to those who braved t
he weather and the attack on the cathedral to attend, he opened the session. He introduced the first team leader and descended the stairs to his seat in the front row. It was just past 11 o’clock. He knew they would need to be lucky to finish in time for the evening news.
*
Uberdorf was fuming at the realization he’d be spending at least three nights in jail. They had taken his cell phone which made him glad he had used a timed detonator for the finale. He had been clever this time. The Harbinger would bring the convention to its cruel end, and it would be difficult to blame him since he was in jail.
He had made his one phone call at the police station. That hadn’t gone very well. His lawyer hung up on him when he’d started berating the man, and most of his Servants with access to his accounts had also been arrested. There was no way for him to make bail in the morning. “That Stone witch had warrants all ready to go.” He pounded on the wall and let out a trail of un-reverend-like expletives. Nothing was going to get him out until after the weekend.
He scratched the top of his head. His tonsure needed a shave, and that always made his head itch. He paced and ranted and smoked the last of his cigarettes. They wouldn’t tell him much about the cathedral. He really wanted to know if there were any victims. He liked to keep pictures of his escalations in the scrapbook in his head. He wanted to see what the news was showing. He always got a thrill from the newscasts. His Servants had melted into the background on this one once it was clear the police were hunting for them. He wondered how many had gotten away and where they’d gone. He needed his fucking phone.
He punched the solitary pillow the man had permitted him and set it at the top of the thin cot. At that moment, his head felt like it was exploding with the sound of bells. At first, he thought the Cathedral of the Blessed Sacrament was mocking him. Then, amid the excruciating pain, Uberdorf understood the Harbinger was real after all.