The Prophet (Ryan Archer #2) (23 page)

Silas had had total faith in Klosko’s abilities as head of security until the man from Webb & Associates managed to gun down two of his top men so easily. Ryan Archer made him uncomfortable. Archer wasn’t flashy. He was simply persistent and very skilled. That made him extremely dangerous. But Silas believed that the message he had sent both men today should have been persuasive enough to keep them away at least until the ceremony tonight had been completed. He had showed Webb and Archer that no one in their lives was safe as long as they continued to stick their noses into places they didn’t belong.

On a monitor in Klosko’s office they were able to observe both Tatum and Jimmy in the respective rooms. They appeared content and patient. Silas’s mind was busy, unable to rest or relax as something indefinable needled at him. He left Klosko with a few final instructions, then he and Alexander returned to the elevator.
 

When the door closed, Klosko exhaled, relieved to have survived Silas’s final inspection.
 

* * *

Jimmy Cloud had no memory of his conversation with Silas. And his memory of the stranger in the desert had been reset so that it represented nothing of significance. He did, however, remember calling Webb to say he’d found Tatum and that she was fine. Now he happily waited in the room Silas has provided in anticipation of the event he had been invited to attend this evening. These people were apparently new friends of Tatum, and he looked forward to sitting with her at a table and celebrating the fact that she had been cured of her heliophobia.

Jimmy had explored the room. The door was locked from the outside, but he didn’t feel threatened by that. He spent most of his time seated on the bed, patiently waiting. They had taken his cell phone, so he couldn’t call Shay or talk to anyone about work. But that was fine with him. He was in no hurry. For the first time in his life he was content to simply sit and wait.
 

THIRTY-THREE

Sonny Webb opened his eyes. He still felt sleepy. It was hard to keep his eyes open but he leaned up onto one elbow and looked around. He was on a bed with his sister. Natalia had her back to him. He touched her shoulder with his hand, and whispered, “Natalia.” But she didn’t answer. She was snoring.

Sonny tried to sit up but was too tired and couldn’t find the strength. So he relaxed and laid back down. The bed was just a mattress thrown on the floor against a wall in an empty room. His eyelids fluttered as he struggled not to doze off again. He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to get up and play or do something fun. But Natalia was still asleep and he felt a little sick to his stomach.

The last thing he could remember was being in Mom’s car, driving to school. But he didn’t remember school, or anything else about his day, so why were they already in bed? Plus, he didn’t recognize the room. Where were they?

Sonny was too sleepy to care about any of his unanswered questions. So he simply snuggled up to his sister’s warm body and went back to sleep.

* * *

It was finally agreed that Karla Webb should not return home alone. In fact, for the moment, it would be a smart idea for her to stay with a friend until she could get a good night’s sleep and have a chance to create some space in her mind between her thoughts and the events of the day. Webb had spoken to Mike Townsend, the PhD from UCLA, and Townsend’s advice had seemed both wise and logical. Webb then reached Karla’s best friend, Katie Golding, who sounded happy and eager to move Karla into her family’s guest room.
 

Webb arrived at the Goldings’ home right as Katie’s white Escalade was turning into the driveway. Karla was in the passenger seat. She unbuckled and got out and spotted her husband’s Prius. Webb hugged her and kissed her cheek. Karla appeared tired, but other than that seemed to be functioning at about seventy-five percent. But then he looked into her eyes and was glad he had listened to Townsend’s suggestion. Karla had no business being alone right now.

Webb had run by the house to pack her an overnight bag. He carried it inside and looked around the guest room. He had been in the Goldings’ house a million times. Bob Golding was a close friend and all-around great guy. Karla was in good hands. Webb thanked Katie and kissed his wife good-bye, then called Archer on his cell.

“How did the girl die?”

“For the moment it looks like she drowned,” Archer said. “I don’t believe that for a second, but we won’t know anything concrete for a few days. How are you holding up, sport?”

“I’d rather not answer that.”

“Understood. Where are you?”

“In my car, heading across town.”

“I had Cory call the other girls and tell them to go home and not open the door for anybody. Not that they are in any kind of danger, because I don’t see how any of the remaining girls had any kind of direct contact with the church. So they should be safe, but no reason to take chances.”

“What about Danielle?” Webb said. “She didn’t have direct contact with the church, at least none that we know of.”

“My suspicion is that she probably met Alexander.”

“Who is Alexander?”

“Somebody who gave Cecile Espinoza a ride.”

“You are to stay away from that church, Archer.”

“There was something spooky about the sound of Jimmy Cloud’s voice when he called you today,” Archer said.
 

“I can’t get the photo of my kids out of my head. You are going to put them in even more danger if you go near Silas Sawbridge.”

“I’ve never seen you this intimidated by anyone.”

“I’m scared to death, honestly.”

“Go back to the office, or go home. Let me handle this.”

“You will only make things worse. We have to be patient.”

“What was that?” Archer said. “You’re breaking up …”

“We have to be—” Webb started to repeat, but the call dropped.

Because Archer had pressed END and dropped his cell phone in his lap. Archer smiled as he made a U-turn and threw gravel as he accelerated toward Beverly Hills.

* * *

Tom Webb exited the freeway and drove home. It was a bad idea but he did it anyway. He parked in the driveway and went inside. Stood in the entryway where he had kissed Karla good-bye that morning, and felt an eerie emptiness pressing in around him. He left the door open and went to the kids’ room, stood in the center of the room and stared. The bunk beds were unmade. Clothes strewn on the floor. Toys scattered. He closed his eyes and let the wave wash over him. The digital image from Rosemary’s computer hung in his mind like a billboard.
 

When the initial tsunami of grief had passed and he could feel his legs beneath him again, he opened his eyes and returned to the front door. He set the alarm and locked the door. Got in his car and drove to his office. Rosemary hugged him as he entered and they had a brief conversation that he quickly forgot. Webb shut his door and turned out the lights. Then he poured himself a drink and sat in the dark.

THIRTY-FOUR

The overcast day never relented. The sky had threatened rain all afternoon, and by early evening it appeared that the promise would finally be fulfilled. The rain began gradually. Archer felt the first few fat droplets on his face as he walked out of Ed Giricki’s body shop. Giricki kept his shop well stocked with gun ammo for personal use and to supply his most trusted friends and family. Archer walked out with a box of 9mm rounds.

He sat in his truck, ignoring the droplets hitting his arms. The rain felt good. He found the darkening sky inspiring. He reached over and punched the button for the glove box with his thumb. The door fell open and he slid the crisp box of ammo inside. Then he turned into traffic and drove four miles to a supermarket. He checked the time on his cell phone. It was nearly seven o’clock.

The supermarket parking lot was only about half full. He parked in the middle. Loaded his gun with bullets, and loaded a second magazine, which he tucked away in his back pocket. The gun was a Beretta M9. Military issue. Archer had carried the weapon all over the world, through countless conflicts, doing the dirty work of fat men in suits behind desks in government offices. It had taken the lives of nameless men in jungles, deserts, and the dark streets of a dozen exotic cities. Each magazine held fifteen rounds, so he would be walking into a potential hostile situation with thirty rounds total. He hoped it would be enough. It would have to be.

Thunder crackled and lightning flashed. The air felt heavy. Archer could feel a charge through the hairs on his arms. He glanced at the sky. The dark clouds had bunched together. A storm was coming. He watched lightning branch out in an awesome display of pyrotechnics. He checked the time again: 7:10.

He was two miles from the Church of the Narrow Gate. An easy walk.

He turned the Beretta over in his hand. Chambered a round. Shoved it into the back of his pants and pulled his shirt over it. From the glove box he removed a pair of compact, folding binoculars and hooked the Velcro pouch on the waistband of his jeans.

His neck and chest were sticky with perspiration. And he could feel himself sweating through the back of his shirt.

Archer walked away from his truck. When he crossed the parking lot to the street, he glanced back only once. Then he crossed at the intersection and focused on the task ahead.

* * *

Sonny woke up again. The sun had moved and the room was darker. Not dark, but filled with long shadows, and the bedroom light was off. He rubbed his eyes and yawned. He had no idea what time it was or how long he’d slept.

Natalia was sitting up. She had a piece of gray tape over her mouth. Her eyes looked like she’d been crying. There was a plastic zip tie around her hands. Sonny sat up and snuggled against her. He too had a zip tie around his hands but nothing over his mouth. He glanced around quickly and saw the man sitting in a chair beside the door. The man was staring at them.

Sonny tried to hug his arms around his twin sister.

“Where are we?” he whispered into her ear.

She looked into his eyes and shook her head to say
I don’t know.

The zip tie was uncomfortable. He wriggled his hands, trying to loosen the tight binding but nothing he did seemed to help. The man in the chair stared at him. The man never smiled. Sonny sat cross-legged and stared directly back at him. The staring contest seemed to go on forever.

“Who are you?” Sonny asked.

The man didn’t speak.

“Where’s my mommy and daddy?” Sonny asked.

“Sit down and be good,” the man said.

“But I’m hungry and I need to pee. I want to talk to Daddy.”

“He’s not here. He asked me to tell you to be a good boy. He’ll be here in a little while, but he’s busy right now.”

Sonny stared at him and processed the story the man had told him. He wasn’t sure what to think about it. Sonny was typically a very trusting kid, but even he was skeptical of the man seated in the chair. Something didn’t ring true to his young ears.
 

“I need to pee,” he said again. He squirmed a bit to show that his bladder was full and making him uncomfortable.

“Try to hold it,” the man said.

“I can’t. I’m a kid and I need to pee.”

The man shifted in the chair. Then he sighed. He stood up.

“I’ll be back in a minute. Just try not to piss your pants,” the man said.

He opened the door and stepped out. A few second later he reappeared with a second man. The two men looked very similar, except that one man had dark hair and the other was kind of blond. Both were dressed in expensive suits and looked like they should be working in some kind of important business office rather than watching a couple children in a ratty-looking apartment.

The man with blond hair helped Sonny off the bed. The other man opened the bathroom door and then returned to his chair. Natalia watched her brother disappear into the bathroom, then her eyes flicked to the man in the chair. His eyes were on her and it made her feel very uneasy inside.

The blond man in the bathroom lifted the toilet seat and waited for Sonny to urinate.

“I can’t pee with this thing on my hands,” Sonny complained.

The man debated a moment, then used a small knife from his pants pocket to snip the zip tie in half. The plastic band fell to the floor.

“Go,” the man said.

“I can’t pee with you watching,” Sonny said. “Stand over there, please.”

The man sighed again and stepped away, turning his back to give the boy a moment of privacy to do his business. A moment later he heard the stream hit the toilet water in a series of short bursts. When the kid was finished he escorted him back into the bedroom where the boy hopped back onto the mattress next to his sister.

Sonny whispered into her ear.

“Have they let you pee yet?”

Because of the tape over her mouth she could only shake her head no.

“Let them know if you need to go,” he told her.

The blond man walked over to the bed.
 

“Put your hands out,” he told Sonny.

Sonny did as told and the blond man put a new zip tie around his wrists and tightened it. The boy winced.

“Too tight!” he said.

“It’s fine,” the man replied and walked away.

There was a window above the mattress. Sonny rose up on his knees to try to see out. He couldn’t see much.
 

“Can you please take the tape off my sister’s mouth?” he asked the man in the chair.

“Sit down and be quiet,” the man said.

Sonny huddled against his sister, his eyes on the window. He wanted to know where they were and how long before his mom or dad came to get them. His stomach was making sounds because he couldn’t remember eating anything after breakfast. He was craving a snack and a juice box.
 

The man in the chair didn’t look like a very nice person. His eyes looked cold and uncaring. When he shifted in the chair, Sonny saw a gun inside the man’s suit coat. Sonny was suddenly very scared and needed to pee again.

THIRTY-FIVE

Archer was in no hurry. The walk gave him time to think, to plan. A Google search had provided a few overhead satellite images of the Church of the Narrow Gate, as well as a smattering of good, clear stills of the building. So Archer had a vague idea of how to approach the grounds and what he was heading into.