The Prophet (Ryan Archer #2) (25 page)

Archer studied the man standing guard. The front door was obviously not going to be an option. He was curious about the level of security and the cars parked around the driveway. It seemed as if there might be a special event planned for the evening. He wondered why a simple church function might require so much security. It seemed to him like overkill. Unless they had something to hide.

The hedge that ran along the perimeter of the castle was dense and tall. He needed to try to reach it to take cover. There were visible cameras placed along the overhang from the roof. He watched them for several minutes and they appeared to be static, but there were enough of them that it would be a challenge to move from the wall to the hedge without getting picked up by one of those cameras or getting spotted by the guard at the door.

He used the binoculars again to get a closer look at the perimeter. It was well lit, with periodic pockets of shadow. It was going to be like threading a needle. Something in his gut told him he was getting close to Tatum, but he still had no tangible proof.
 

He wasn’t going to be able to move an inch as long as the guard was posted at the door keeping an eye on the driveway. Archer needed a way to distract him.
 

He didn’t have to wait long.

Archer heard the rumble of a diesel engine and glanced down the hill at an approaching panel truck. A delivery was being made. Archer timed his move, and when the panel truck was between him and the guard, he ran to the back of it and crawled underneath. He heard the truck door open and close, and then there was a brief conversation.

“Around back,” he heard the guard say.

Then there were footsteps returning to the truck and the diesel engine grunted back to life. Archer held tight to the undercarriage of the truck as it followed the blacktop drive to the rear of the castle. It hadn’t gone according to plan, but he was actually pleased with the way things had turned out.

Archer dropped to the ground and looked out from beneath the truck. A service door was open and several staff members started hauling the freight the driver had delivered to the door using a two-wheeled dolly. From his position beneath the truck, Archer spotted a silver Ferrari parked in a small parking lot at the rear of the castle. It was Jimmy Cloud’s car. He recognized it from the house in Malibu.

Jimmy was here with Tatum.

Archer had come to the right place.

* * *

In the grand ballroom of the castle, final preparations were underway for the evening’s event. Guests had begun arriving. Members of the church. The event was by invitation only. The kitchen staff had been busy all day and the dining room smelled amazing. No expense had been spared. Dinner would be served at eight o’clock. And then the guests would move into the ballroom so that the ceremony could begin.

Alexander made the circuit among the guests, flashing his famous smile and spreading his charm around. Silas would not make an appearance until it was time for the ceremony. It was Alexander who typically did the heavy lifting for his employer. He was handsome and charming and was an effortless socializer. He roamed the hallways, glad-handing, networking, making everyone feel comfortable. Waiters circulated with trays filled with drinks and
hors d’oeuvres. Alexander didn’t drink but made sure everyone was well taken care of. He made introductions and greeted every face in the room. The atmosphere was jubilant and the air pulsed with energy.
 

Alexander was in constant radio contact with Victor Klosko. A mike was pinned to his label, and a tiny receiver was plugged into his ear. He listened to the communication between Klosko and his men. So far everything was moving along according to schedule. For the moment, Alexander felt cautiously optimistic.

* * *

Tom Webb drove home again. He parked the Prius and entered the house through the garage. He dropped his attaché case at the door and went upstairs to the bedroom. He stripped out of his Armani suit and pulled jeans and a navy blue Eddie Bauer shirt from the closet and dressed quickly. The Eddie Bauer was older than both his kids and had paint stains on the collar. Karla attempted to donate it to Goodwill every six months but Webb had always retrieved it at the last minute and returned it to his closet. He changed socks and pulled on some old work boots he didn’t mind wearing in the rain.

A rain jacket was in a closet near the front entry. He pulled it off the hanger and put his arms in the sleeves, then grabbed the keys to the Mustang from a hook in the kitchen. The house had a three-car garage. His 390 GT was parked in the third bay under a plastic tarp to keep dust off. Webb punched a button on the wall and the door went up. The tarp was brown and he tugged at one corner and whipped it to the floor. It was a 1968 Mustang, the same model year driven by Steve McQueen in
Bullet
. The car was Webb’s hobby, and was the only thing that made him hornier than the sight of Karla’s bare legs. He paid Jay Leno’s personal mechanic to do yearly tune-ups to keep it in top shape but rarely took the monster out of the garage.

He turned the key in the ignition and listened to the V8 roar like a lion.

It rolled out into the rain. Webb watched the mirror as the garage door closed. He tapped the gas and gripped the wheel. Then he took the curves through the neighborhood and waited for a light to change. He had talked to Jason Eckhart and Eckhart had updated him on the latest Intel on Silas Sawbridge and Victor Klosko. It was enough to light a fire under him. Eckhart had told him that he’d already passed the info on Klosko along to Archer, so Webb knew Archer wouldn’t be sitting around on a rainy Friday night with his fingers crossed, hoping for the best. He knew better. Archer was somewhere in the rain right now, getting ready to pull the trigger. And Webb had a feeling he knew exactly where he could find him. So Webb turned through the intersection and punched the accelerator, lightning popping overhead.
 

He was done letting those bastards hold his children hostage.

THIRTY-SEVEN

It was almost 8:00 PM. The last of the guests had arrived. Each of the cars had passed through security and everything looked clean. There were plenty of groans from both security and the guests about the weather, but Silas refused to postpone the ceremony. The storm couldn’t have picked a worse evening to arrive.

Silas, Alexander, and Klosko met briefly in the solarium, and Silas gave the go-ahead to lockdown the castle.

“No one is to come or go until after the ceremony,” Silas said.

Klosko nodded. Then he spoke into his radio and gave the command to go into full lockdown.
 

Alexander remained in the solarium a moment longer to update Silas regarding Tatum and her father.

“They will be served dinner in their rooms. I thought it best to keep them separated from the other guests until we are ready for the ceremony to begin,” Alexander said.

Silas offered no reaction. He was lost deep in contemplation.
 

“Both of them seem to be in good spirits,” Alexander added.

“I’m pleased,” Silas said.

Rain drummed down on the glass dome overhead, streaming over the crazed biblical imagery cut into the stained glass, seeming to bring the drama to life.

* * *

Sonny was scared of storms. He huddled next to his sister and pretended to be brave but every time lightning crackled outside the window, he would flinch and try not to act like a baby.
 

The storm didn’t bother Natalia at all. She barely noticed it. She was too busy making plans in her head. The men in the suits had told them things she didn’t believe. Mom and Dad would never have approved of whatever was going on here. These men were strangers, and Mom would have never let them be taken to a place like this with strangers.
 

Her mother was super smart, so Natalia sat cross-legged on the mattress, trying to think what her mother might do in this situation. She knew the storm bothered her brother, so she did her best to comfort him.

“It’s only rain. It will pass,” she whispered into his ear.

Sonny shrugged. “I’m not scared,” he insisted.

Natalia was hungry and needed to pee but was more concerned with the fact that it was now dark outside. She had noticed the blond man step out a few minutes earlier and speak to the man with dark hair. She thought the man in the other room might have left to get food. That was good. Not the food part, but the fact that the other man was out of the building for a little while.
 

Her memory of the day was fuzzy. She thought probably these men had given them something to make them sleep. But now she was starting to remember sitting in the car with Mom at the stoplight. There was a black car in front of them, and then a door opened and someone got out. The images came in bits and pieces. She closed her eyes and tried to remember. Then she saw it. The man with the blond hair smashing her mother’s window and pulling her out of the car. Natalia felt a twinge of fear in her chest. She swallowed hard. Was Mom okay? What had they done to her?

Then she glanced at the rain-streaked window and narrowed her eyes. She was more mad than scared. She hated bullies, and that’s all the men in suits were, just big bullies.

She turned to the man seated in the chair beside the door and said, “I need to pee.”

* * *

The land the church was built on was tiered, like a series of shelves cut into the earth. Various outlying buildings were staggered across the grounds. Buildings made of white stone with terra-cotta shingles. The architecture was very uniform. From the rise where the castle stood, the Pacific was visible in the distance. The castle featured a tower at each of the four corners.

Archer was leaning against a low brick wall, patiently waiting for the panel truck to leave so that the staff would go back inside. On the other side of the wall was a loading dock with a sloped bay for deliveries. Beyond that was a green Dumpster. Archer craned his neck to scan the roof overhang for cameras. He held his position, waiting for security forces to show up and drag him away. But he heard no alarms and no one had come rushing over carrying automatic weapons.

He had seen the door where the service staff had received the delivery. It was a typical exterior door, but there would be too many eyeballs moving up and down the service area. The loading dock door would be locked, but was too exposed for him to attempt entry through it. A window might be a good choice, but with the level of security he’d already witnessed, and knowing Victor Klosko was in charge, most of the windows would likely be rigged with touch sensors. His options seemed fewer and fewer.

Jimmy Cloud’s Ferrari was parked nearby. Archer fumbled around with that riddle for a moment. Why would Jimmy have come to the castle? Had he called Webb’s office from here? He had told Webb to call off the search, so it seemed reasonable to assume that Silas Sawbridge must be blackmailing him in one way or another. Archer didn’t have time to put all the pieces into place right now. Something was going on inside the castle walls tonight, and his gut was telling him that the something involved Tatum Cloud and her father. The clock was ticking and time was running out.

Archer groped on hands and knees in the narrow space between the castle wall and the tall hedge that bordered the perimeter. The overhang provided limited shelter from the rain. From the sound of it in the tree branches and sizzling on the paved surfaces, the shower seemed to be intensifying. He reached a corner and peered around. He felt his cell phone vibrate but ignored it. The area beyond was well lit by flood lamps. He heard footsteps nearby and froze, instinctively lowering his head. He could see movement through the leaves of the hedge. Someone was walking down one of the paths.

Archer gingerly reached under his shirt and placed a hand on the Beretta. He watched and waited. He shifted slightly and lost his balance, having to grab at the hedge to keep from falling. The hedge made a crunching sound, and the man walking past halted, turning. Archer again froze and waited.
 

The man took a step in his direction.

Archer watched without blinking, his hand still on the Beretta.
 

The man came closer. He approached the hedge, stopping several feet away and raising a walkie-talkie to his face. Then he took a step closer, leaning in, trying to identify what might have made the noise inside the hedge.
 

Archer stopped breathing. He didn’t blink. Rain dripped from the tip of his nose.
 

The man lowered the walkie-talkie a few inches, and seemed to relax. When he took another step toward the hedge, Archer exploded outward, launching his upper body up and over, taking the man to the ground and pummeling him in the face with the barrel of the Beretta. The man was strong and attempted to fight back, but Archer was too powerful and his punches were too quick, and the man fell unconscious there in the mud. Archer dragged his body behind the hedge and left it hidden in the shadows. He took the man’s walkie-talkie and earpiece.
 

Archer scurried another fifty feet to an alcove in the wall, and discovered an iron ladder bolted to the stone. It appeared to extend all the way to the roof of the castle. He placed a hand on the bottom rung. It felt solid. So he hoisted himself up and began the long climb to the roof, hand over hand, rising into the rain and making himself an easy target.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Webb dialed the number again, and again his call went to voice mail. Archer wasn’t answering. Webb sent a text: LOCATION? But after twenty minutes there was still no reply.
 

The Mustang idled at a stop sign, the wipers dutifully clearing away the rain. The engine was growling. His headlights fell on the wall surrounding the Church of the Narrow Gate. He listened to the wipers whack, back and forth, back and forth. The rain drizzled down his window. He circled the block. No sign of the Archer’s truck. Where would he have parked it?

Webb drove slowly, following the perimeter of the wall, trying to find a place where Archer might have chosen to go over. He pulled to the curb on the opposite side of the street and crossed on foot. Strolled casually with his hands in the pockets of the coat. He walked past the gate and glanced in. Beyond the iron bars the drive disappeared into the gloom. A camera watched him walk by but he kept his head down.