The Firstborn (19 page)
Blake grabbed her by the wrist—she was starting to become a problem.
“Blake! Ow, you’re hurting me. You have to tell me what is going on.”
“Quiet!”
Blake looked back and saw two figures cross the street. He grabbed her, pulling her hard and fast, but it wasn’t fast enough. Devin Bathurst and John Temple were coming down on him fast.
It was too far to plunge ahead with the girl.
They were gaining on him.
He looked to the right—a stone wall. He looked to his left—there was a long drop past the railing leading down into some kind of promenade—rocks and running water flowing down a pathway.
Trapped.
The sounds of feet smacking down on concrete reverberated as they echoed off the walls.
Hannah looked back. “Devin?”
They were close enough that she could recognize them—they were too close.
He plunged his hand into his duffel bag and grabbed what he was looking for—in one swift move he snapped around, leveling the pistol.
“
Stop!
” he shouted.
Hannah moaned in anguish.
They kept coming.
“I’ve got a gun!” he called through the dark.
They stopped fifteen feet away.
“Back off!” Blake shouted, spit erupting from his mouth.
He looked over John’s face—worry and panic. Good.
He looked at Devin—eerie calm. Blake pointed the weapon.
“Stay away!” he shouted to them.
Devin’s face remained calm as he turned to John. “I’ll stay here; you go get help.”
John nodded and began to back away.
Blake shifted his focus—concentrating on the missionary’s chest through the iron sights.
John stopped.
Devin relaxed his shoulders and adjusted his shirt cuffs. “It’s time to stop running, Blake.”
“Stay back!”
“I know you murdered Al Nassar.”
“He worked for Hamas!” Blake shouted back. “He recruited suicide bombers in Israel—he was responsible for the deaths of dozens of innocent people! I saw it!”
Devin continued, “And I know you killed Henry Rice.”
“What?” Hannah demanded, turning her pained face to Blake.
He looked into her eyes as they began to fill with tears.
“It was an accident!” he shouted. “I wanted to include him, but he wouldn’t have it. He found out about Al Nassar and the others. I told him about our plans, but he wanted to stop us.”
“Us?” John said. “Who do you mean by us?”
“I know what you’re planning, Blake. I’ve seen it,” Devin said with a cold nod. “The bombing. You’re going to kill innocent people. Why?”
“To save hundreds more!”
“You don’t know that,” John interjected.
Blake shook the pistol. “Don’t tell me what I do and do not know! It has to be done!”
Devin’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still just a murderer.”
“And what does that make you, you coldhearted thug? I know the things you’ve done.”
“To prevent worse things.”
“I’m doing the same thing.”
“Killing after the fact isn’t the same.”
Blake put his finger to the trigger as he strangled the pistol grip. “I was placed in this life to execute God’s wrath on Earth.”
“And yet your God hates all the same people as you,” John replied gravely. “How convenient.”
Blake shook, rage overtaking him. “Do you know what it’s like? To see what’s been done? To see the things that people have done to others? To live with that? Murder or rape? Pictures of dirty back alleys rolling around in your head? Don’t tell me you’d do nothing.” He pointed at Devin. “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t kill in the name of justice.”
“It’s not about justice,” John said boldly. “Jesus Christ paid the price of all sins on the cross when—”
“Shut up!” Blake shifted the weapon again. “Real people don’t talk like that. You think your pious act sounds good, but it’s just a show. Real people know that we live in a real world, and there are a thousand Al Nassars wandering the streets every day.” He shook all over. “You can talk about Jesus like you know what you’re saying, but what do you do when you have the chance to stop someone?”
Silence.
Blake began to scream. “You don’t understand because it’s all just a game to you. It’s all about an image—Christian chic. But you’re not down in the trenches, looking life in the ugly, nasty teeth. It’s all academic to you.”
John’s fists clenched.
“You’ve never watched mass murder,” Blake continued, “in all its gory detail, knowing full well that the man behind it was parading behind his own mask of piety, walking the streets unharmed.”
“I felt Henry Rice die!” John shouted back, stepping forward. “I felt his fear and his pain. I felt the betrayal as you shoved him down those stairs. I felt his bones breaking and snapping—and I felt him die!”
Hannah began to writhe in Blake’s arms, trying to fight free.
“Stay back!” Blake shouted, finger trembling over the trigger. John continued forward. “I have no problem killing you!”
Devin reached for his cell phone and began dialing.
“Stop!”
Neither ceased.
Blake’s mind raced—out of options.
He threw Hannah at John, then turned and ran.
John felt Hannah’s thin, young frame slam into him, steadying her before he turned his attention back to Blake.
Blake had a head start and a thirty-foot gap. John surged—then saw Blake swivel and—
BLAM!
A bright yellow flash as the weapon blasted at the night air.
John hit the ground, tumbling to a stop, concrete tearing into his hands and knees and back. He covered his head.
BLAM—BLAM—BLAM!
The sounds of running grew distant. John lifted his head, looking. Blake was gone.
Devin approached Hannah.
She was sitting on the ground, legs twisted beneath her. He knelt near her, checking to see if she was hurt. He took her wrist to check her pulse, but she threw her arms around him and sobbed.
His first reaction was to pull away, but he held there, body rigid. She stuffed her face into his chest, arms holding him tight. He took a hand and placed it on her shoulder, patting as gently as he knew how. She pulled close.
The whole thing made Devin uncomfortable—a nineteen-year-old girl with her arms thrown around him. But her grandfather was dead. He reminded himself that normal social rules had to be suspended. He wanted to say something comforting to her—to tell her that everything was going to be OK, that the life she had lived wasn’t over, that she wasn’t in danger—
But none of that was true.
D
EVIN STOOD WITH THE
others in his hotel room, putting his cell phone to his ear.
“Trista Brightling,” she announced from the other end of the line.
“Trista,” Devin spoke into his cell phone, “it was Blake Jackson who killed Henry Rice.”
“I understand.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m getting out of San Antonio, just like everybody else.”
“Everybody else?”
“The Firstborn are scattering to the wind, Devin. Clay Goldstein is long gone, and Morris is still missing.”
“Do you think someone grabbed him?”
“No one is sticking around to find out. I don’t know a single member of the Firstborn who was in that meeting that isn’t fleeing the city right now. I don’t know what you’re still doing in the city.”
“Blake is planning something,” he said flatly. “I think he’s going to set off a bomb somewhere. He said it was necessary.”
“Where are you?”
“My hotel room, packing.”
“Are you alone?”
“No,” he said, looking at the others. “I’m with Henry Rice’s granddaughter and John Temple.”
No reply.
“Trista?”
“What’s John doing with you?”
“We both found Henry Rice.”
“Keep an eye on him,” she said, voice brimming with anxiety. “I have to go.”
She hung up.
Devin looked at the other two.
“A bombing?” John asked. “Is that what Blake’s planning?”
Devin nodded. “I had a vision.”
“Where? When?”
Devin shook his head. “There’s no way to know for certain.”
“We have to get this figured out.”
Devin grunted. “There’s no ‘we’ in this. I have to find Morris, and I have to find Blake. This bombing needs to be stopped. Chances are good that both Morris and Blake are still in this city—if I can find one I’ll probably find the other, but there isn’t much time.”
“Do you know where they are?” John asked.
“No, but I’ll find them. I assure you.” Devin turned to Hannah. “You’re not safe. I need to get you someplace where you can stay unseen for a while—or until this scenario has come to completion.”
She wilted.
“I’ll look after her,” John said.
“No,” Devin replied, flatly.
“Why not?”
“Do you want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“What?” John’s face was turning red, fists clenching.
Devin took Hannah by the elbow. “Come with me. I’ll see to it that you’re safe.” He started to lead her out of the room.
“Hey,” John exclaimed, stepping in front of the door. “I can handle this.”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“You don’t have time to take care of her and find Morris.”
Hannah seemed to shrink in the face of the conflict.
“That’s the trouble with seeing only the moment,” Devin said. “You can’t see far enough forward to tell what’s coming at you. You can’t plan, you can’t predict, and you do what seems good at the moment—like seducing Morris’s niece.”
“I didn’t seduce her.”
“You destroyed her reputation, John. All because you couldn’t see past the moment—and that’s why you’ll always be reckless.”
John growled. “And all you can see is what’s coming—what could happen, what might be. You’re cold and distant and afraid. All because you can’t get your mind off the future—and that’s why you’ll always be a thug.”
Devin blinked then went to push past.
“Wait,” John said, thrusting his arm across the doorway, blocking the exit. “You need my help.”
“I need good help.”
John smirked scathingly. “Right now you know for a fact that a member of the Prima is guilty of murder, assault, and criminal intent in terrorism. The leader of the Ora knew this but said nothing, and the leader of the Domani is missing—which means it’s probably an inside job. So let me ask you—who can you trust?”
“I can’t trust you—not with my life”—he looked at Hannah—“or hers.”
“I’m the only help you’ve got. I may not be what you want, but I’m here.”
“You’re absolutely right…” Devin said with a nod.
John began to smile.
“…you aren’t the help I want. Now excuse me.”
Devin pushed past into the hall, holding Hannah by the arm.
John followed after.
“Where are you going to go? What are you going to do?”
“I told you, they’re probably still in the city.”
“Do you know that for a fact? Clay’s already left town. Blake could have gone anywhere, done anything. You don’t know where this mosque is—so how could you possibly have the first clue which way he was going?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
Devin felt a hand grab his arm.
“You don’t have a clue what you’re doing. You’re so used to seeing things coming that when you miss something you don’t know what to do next.”
