Sullivan Saga 2: Sullivan's Wrath (8 page)

“There’s so much that’s confusing,” he said.

Liz sighed. Her expression was one of pain, of sorrow. “When this is all over, everything will make sense. And we will be together and happy, Frank. Trust me, darling. Trust me.”

And he did. Allen nodded slowly. He trusted her fully and completely. He felt sleepy, his body felt limp.

“Lie down,” Liz commanded.

Allen stepped over to the bed and fell down onto his back.

“That’s good, Frank.”

Allen nodded.

“Now go to sleep.”

Allen closed his eyes. He could feel a chill run down his arm and knew she was stroking it. But it was different this time. This time the chill didn’t frighten him, it didn’t put him on edge. It was soothing, comforting. He felt the chill pass across his arm onto his stomach, then down past his waist.

“Soon, Frank,” Liz whispered. “Soon.”

Allen smiled. “Soon,” he said. He sucked in a breath. The sensation between his legs grew more intense. He let out the breath as he felt himself release, then relax. Within moments, he was sleeping soundly.

PRIME MINISTER STEVE Hall paused as he stepped out of his office and into the waiting room. He glanced from General Miller to Kate to Sullivan. “Rick Sullivan.”

“Hello, Steve.”

Miller reluctantly took Sullivan’s hand as he glanced at Miller. “General, I take it you don’t have urgent business to discuss?”

“This is urgent.”

Hall nodded. “Come into my office, then.”

Sullivan had barely waited for the door to close before speaking. “It’s simple, Steve. A ship belonging to Miss Alexander was salvaged by your government. We want that ship back.”

Sullivan watched Hall’s face as he processed the request. Sullivan smiled. Hall was a good politician. He didn’t betray that he knew what Sullivan was talking about.

“A ship?”

“Yes. It’s one of the specially equipped hyper-hyperspace ships that were used to bring the invasion force to Edaline.”

“They were all destroyed, Rick.”

“Not this one. It was damaged but still salvageable.”

Hall shook his head. “There was a lot of confusion just after the war. There were several paramilitary factions who tried to take control of the city, loyalists plotting against the new government. It was nothing short of chaos. I don’t know who took the ship.”

Sullivan lowered his voice. “This isn’t a time for games, Steve. We’re not here to give you grief about taking the ship. But it is crucial that you tell us where it is.”

“Why?”

“It’s a complicated matter. Please, Steve. We need the ship.”

“I don’t have it, Rick.”

Kate stepped forward and put her hand on Hall’s shoulder. “Prime Minister Hall… Steve. My name is Kate Alexander. My father was Benjamin Alexander. Have you heard of him?”

“Of course.”

“You know that he was—that I am—very wealthy. I have more resources at my disposal than some planets. Those resources could either help you or hurt you. I could invest in the future of Edaline and make you look quite good, or I could invest in the political campaigns of your opponents. It’s really your choice.”

“You’re blackmailing me, Miss Alexander?”

Kate smiled. “Rick has told me a bit about you. Do you want to know what he said?”

“Of course.”

“He said that you are a self-serving man.”

Hall’s face tightened.

“But he also said that when it matters, you can be counted on to make the right decision. Will you make the right decision now?”

Hall licked his lips then smiled thinly. “Like I said, I don’t know anything about the ship, but I’ll find it for you.”

“Good,” said Sullivan. “When will you let us know that you’ve found it?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

“You’re confident you’ll find it by then?”

Hall smiled. “For the hero of Edaline, I’ll move mountains. You’ll have you ship, Rick.”

ALLEN FELT THE chill. Before he could turn around to look for her, Liz spoke. “Now, Frank. You have to move fast. Call Sullivan.”

“You have the number?”

“Yes.”

Allen spoke the number into his earpiece as Liz gave it to him.

“Hello?”

Allen smiled at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Hello, Rick.”

“Frank? Where are you?”

“I’ll tell you in a minute. But there are some other things I need to tell you first.”

Liz moved to stand in front of Allen. She fixed his gaze. Behind the smile, Allen sensed displeasure.

“Rick, I’m sorry.”

“For what? What have you done?”

“I’m sorry for lying to you and Kate.”

“It’s all right, Frank. We just want you to come back with us. Whatever you’re going through, we can help you. We’re here for you, Frank.”

Allen swallowed hard and fought back tears. “I know, Rick. But I can’t leave just yet. I have to take care of some things.”

“I know about the ship, Frank. You want to get back into hyper-hyperspace, don’t you?”

Allen glanced at Liz. She nodded.

“Yes. I want to be with Liz.”

“That’s not Liz. You can’t trust her, Frank. Look at the way she’s been manipulating you.”

“No, it’s not like that. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done voluntarily. I’ve done it because I wanted to do it.”

“You wanted to betray your friends?”

“No, I….”

“Listen, I know you never would have done that if you weren’t being influenced. You can end this.”

“I don’t want to end it, Rick. I don’t want to leave her. I can’t leave her.”

“It’s not her.”

“No, I know that. But she’s as close as I’ll ever get.” Allen looked at Liz again.

“Set it up,” she said.

“Listen, Rick. I want to say goodbye in person. Come meet me.” He took out his tablet, unfolded it and tapped on the screen. “I’m sending you an address. Be there in one hour.”

Allen tapped on his earpiece and ended the call.

“Good,” said Liz. “Very good. Now call Brooks again. Make sure he’s ready.”

PETER HAD INTENDED to speak to Father Curtis after evening prayers, but as he caught Curtis’s eye, he felt the same reluctance creep into back of his mind. Instead he smiled at Father Curtis and bade him goodnight.

He tossed and turned for several hours in bed. The last time he’d checked, the clock had read two thirty. Peter looked again. Two thirty-three.

“Dear Lord,” he whispered, “please bring me peace so that I might sleep.”

Peter turned onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. There, just as he had seen it on the wall and in his mind every night since then, was the crucified Jesus. Peter blinked several times to make sure he was truly seeing the image. Remembering an old trick—he didn’t recall ever having done it before, and he felt silly doing so now—he pinched himself on the arm. He squeezed his nails into his flesh until the pain became unbearable. He couldn’t remember ever having felt pain in a dream before, so he knew he had to be awake.

This was the clearest he had ever been able to see the vision. The appearance on the wall of his room had been brief, and the vision he had seen when he closed his eyes, even though it had been constant, had seemed blurry and far away.

As his heart began to race, he took in the details. If he truly was seeing Jesus, he wanted to remember everything about how he looked. The crown of thorns around Jesus’s head could not diminish the beauty and nobility of the face. His hair was shoulder-length and curly, and he wore a closely-tapered beard.

Peter cast his eyes across the arms of Christ. Multiple lacerations could be seen where the whip had missed his back and curved around his shoulders and upper arms. Jesus was nailed to the cross through his hands, not his wrists as skeptics had been insisting upon for hundreds of years.

The spear wound in Jesus’s side was dripping blood which ran down the side of his leg. Peter glanced at Jesus’s feet. A single long nail was driven through both feet. They were resting on a small block of wood, also nailed to the cross.

Peter clasped his hands in front of him as he stared up at Jesus. “Dear Lord, what message do you bring me?”

Jesus, whose head had been hanging, looked up and fixed Peter in the eyes. Peter could see the pain and sorrow in those eyes, and it brought tears to his own.

“Dear Lord,” he repeated.

A sound filled Peter’s ears. It was a sound unlike any he had ever heard, like a chorus, but there was something metallic in the voices.
No
, he thought.
Something golden
.

He watched Christ’s lips slowly part. At first he heard only a weak exhalation of breath. Then words formed on the breath. Peter strained to hear what they were, they were so faint. Slowly, Jesus repeated the words before the image dimmed and faded. Peter felt a chill run down his spine, and his pulse began to pound in his ears. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought he had understood the words the second time: “Look… for my… return.”

RICK SULLIVAN TAPPED his fingers on the table. Kate was sitting on the bed, leaning forward, watching him. She looked at his restless hand. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Despite his generally calm demeanor, she could tell he was anxious.

“We should go,” said Kate.

Sullivan shook his head. “I’ll go, but you have to stay here.”

“What if he really just wants to say goodbye?”

“It’s not right, Kate. This address he sent me is a warehouse in the industrial part of the city. Why not meet somewhere like a hotel, a restaurant?”

“A warehouse? Do you think he’s found the ship, then?”

“I’m almost certain of it. But I can’t understand why he wants me there.”

“I’m telling you, it’s to say goodbye. He’s leaving on the ship, and we may never see him again.”

Sullivan turned to look at her. “Kate, it’s not right. He knows that once I know where he is, I’ll try to stop him. I won’t let him leave in that ship. Besides, it’s not safe for you to be out on the streets after dark.”

Kate got up and moved to stand behind him. She put her arms around his shoulders. “Then why did he call?”

Sullivan stopped tapping the table. He brought his hand up and rubbed his eyes. “I think he wants to take me with him.”

Kate moved away. She rounded the table and sat across from Sullivan. “These entities… they’re up to something big, aren’t they?”

“If I only knew what it was, I could….” He paused then lowered his eyes. “What could I do? Against beings like this, beings I can’t see, can’t touch, can’t kill….”

“Then don’t go, Rick.”

Sullivan stood, folded up his tablet and shoved it into his pocket. “I have to. If I don’t, they’ll find a way to get me eventually. Whatever they want, they have the power to ruin my life, maybe even harm you if they don’t get it.”

“Rick, no.”

Sullivan pulled Kate into an embrace. He kissed her lightly on the lips then turned away. “I can’t let them harm you. Trust me.”

Kate began crying. Sullivan quickly crossed to the door, opened it and stepped through before she could change his mind. She threw herself onto the bed and began sobbing uncontrollably. After fifteen minutes, the tears had given way to stinging eyes and a headache. Kate got up and went to the bathroom. She washed her face and splashed cool water on the back of her neck.

She knew Rick was right. If the entities wanted something from him, they were definitely capable of forcing his hand.

Returning to the bedroom, Kate caught sight of her open suitcase. The gilt lettering on one of her father’s books caught her eye. It was the
Discourses and Enchiridion
of Epictetus. She took it from her case and opened it as she lay back on the bed.

Riffling the pages, she skipped past the dense text of the
Discourses
and found the much more accessible chapters of the
Enchiridion
. It was this work, along with the
Meditations
, she recalled, that her father had prized above all others. As with the
Meditations
, Benjamin Alexander had bookmarked pages in this book. She stopped at one of the bookmarks: “Seek not that the things which happen should happen as you wish, but wish the things which happen to be as they are, and you will have a tranquil flow of life.”

Kate wiped her eyes again. It was so easy to say such things when the things that happened were not so trying. In the past two years, Kate had been kidnapped twice, her father had been killed and she’d watched the man she loved go off to war. Rick was no longer fighting a war, but he was still in danger. He was in danger on Stellar Assembly planets, with a warrant out for his arrest, and he was in danger on most other planets due to the reputation that had been spread about him. How could Epictetus assert that just letting things happen as they are would lead to tranquility?

Kate caught herself feeling embarrassed, even though no one else had been witness to her negative thoughts. Epictetus, she recalled, had been born into slavery in Ancient Rome and had been, for most of his life, a cripple. She, on the other hand, had been the daughter of one of the wealthiest men on all the inhabited planets, and until recently her life had been one of ease and luxury.

She opened the book to another marker: “Let death and exile and every other thing which appears dreadful be daily before your eyes, but most of all death, and you will never think of anything mean nor will you desire anything extravagantly.”

Kate closed the book and meditated on these words. She recalled how such trivial things had seemed so urgent in her previous life. She remembered how she had been so angered by the petty jealousies and bickering of the other girls in Silvanian society. She remembered how shallow she had been, how much importance she had placed on material goods, on status.

It was true that her father had possessed many expensive things and had lived an exceptionally luxurious lifestyle, but unlike the parents of her friends, he never seemed to place much importance on it. Knowledge and art were the things he prized. She supposed he had been a different man when he was younger, when he was building his empire. But after he turned control of the company over to the board of directors, he was able to spend time on things other than making money.