The Prophet (Ryan Archer #2) (29 page)

There was a mad rush for the doors, pushing and shoving and screaming. The lights fluttered, then all power was lost. The ballroom went completely dark and the level of panic escalated exponentially.
 

Klosko had taken Archer’s Beretta. Archer found him on the floor and searched his coat for the gun. He found it and quickly turned away. Emergency battery-powered lights kicked on and partially lit the room.
 

Archer ran across the room through the chaos, his eyes searching for Silas. He dodged overturned tables and chairs. Scrambling church members stumbled over one another desperate to escape. Archer could smell smoke.

Then he spotted Silas moving toward a door behind the podium. Archer started in that direction. Silas reached the door, paused, saw Archer pursuing, and then hurried through, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Suddenly there were gunshots and Archer turned to see men in dark suits rushing toward him. Archer dropped to the floor and aimed at the gunman nearest him. He fired once, hitting the man in the left shoulder, spinning him around. A second gunman was sprinting down one side of the room, continuing to fire as he ran. Archer dropped him mid-stride, placing a bullet in his chest. Then Archer jumped to his feet and ran to the door that Silas had vanished through.

The door was locked. Archer aimed the Beretta at the doorknob and fired twice. Then he took a step back and raised a boot and kicked it in. The door rattled open in a cloud of dust and splinters as smoke began to fill the ballroom.

Beyond the open door was a short hallway that ended at a narrow flight of stairs. Archer took the stairs three at a time, and when he reached the landing at the next level of the castle in the darkness, he was hit in the face by something hard. The wooden chair splintered and Silas watched Archer stumble backward on the stairs, then he turned and ran.

Archer was seeing stars. The blow had come from out of nowhere in the dark and for a long moment he was stunned and confused. He regained his composure and then started to pursue, but then he paused as a thought occurred to him.
What about Tatum?

He decided his first priority was to make sure the girl was safe. He hurried down the stairs and into the ballroom. Jimmy was standing at the door where the man in the tuxedo had left with Tatum.

“Who was the man with your daughter?” Archer asked over the noise.

Jimmy was choking on the smoke. “His name is Alexander,” he said.

Archer remembered Glen, the dope dealer, mentioning someone named Alexander picking Cecile up for church.
 

“Are you okay?” Archer asked Jimmy.

Jimmy nodded. “I think so.”

“Get outside as fast as you can,” Archer told him.

“What is happening?”

“Jimmy, get out of here!”

Jimmy nodded again. “Okay.”

FORTY-FIVE

The explosion had happened the instant Alexander opened the door to leave the grand ballroom. It felt as though the door had been rigged to set off the detonation. When the blast rocked the castle, Tatum lost her balance and fell backward, striking the back of her head against the edge of a table. Her vision had blurred as pain tingled down her spine. Alexander had helped her up and rushed her out the door.

As they hurried through a hallway, a cloud of smoke enveloped them. Tatum tried to cover her face with her hands but the smoke still burned her eyes and she couldn’t breathe. She began choking and stumbled forward. Alexander had her by her arm and wouldn’t let her slow down.

“Where … where are you taking me, Alexander?” she asked.

Alexander didn’t answer her. He was trying to figure out what had happened. What could have caused the explosion? He wasn’t going to wait around to find out. It was too important to get Tatum out of the castle and get her to the private jet for the overnight flight to Switzerland. He would travel with her, make sure she was comfortable in her new home, then return to Los Angeles in a week or so.

Then he heard a voice in his ear coming from a member of the security team.
 

“We have a problem at the front gate,” the voice said.
 

Alexander waited for Klosko’s response but none came.

“Victor,” the voice continued, “the FBI is here. They want to question Silas about the two dead girls. What do you want me to tell them?”

Alexander felt his chest tighten. He would have to take Tatum off the church grounds by a different route. That was not a problem; it would simply take a little more time because they would have to travel by foot until they were outside the wall.

Alexander spoke into his walkie-talkie as he gagged on black smoke.

“This is Alexander. Stall them,” he said. “Tell them no one is here.”

“They heard the explosion. The fire department has already been called and trucks will be here shortly.”

“Stall them,” he said again. “Whatever you do, don’t open the gate.”

“We can see flames from the castle from here,” the voice insisted. “They will not let us keep them out much longer.”

Alexander didn’t reply. There was nothing more he could do now except take care of Tatum. He had personally given the orders to kill both Cecile and Danielle, but had also made sure there was no way to trace the murders back to the church. The FBI would never be able to prove that Tatum had been at the castle and now Jimmy Cloud had pledged his full allegiance to Silas, so he would never tell the FBI anything to hurt the church. As long as Alexander successfully delivered the girl to Switzerland, safe and sound, all would be well.

The explosion had blown through walls and debris was everywhere. The castle was on fire. Tatum screamed. Alexander tried to keep her calm but his priority was to get her free and clear of the chaos and reach the wall at the rear of the estate before the FBI could breach the gate.

They climbed over rubble of stone and brick and twisted metal. A man in a service uniform appeared from out of the smoke, his clothes and hair on fire. Tatum screamed when she saw him. Alexander shoved him aside and ushered her forward. Rain was pouring through a huge gash in the wall. They ran through the hole together, into the rain, crossing the blacktop drive to a paved path through the trees, into the dark.

FORTY-SIX

Archer emerged from the smoke as he stepped through the gaping hole in the castle wall, two minutes behind them. He stood in the rain, glancing right and then left. Rain sizzled on the paved surfaces, black smoke rising into the gloomy sky as the flames continued to twist upward.

There was no moon and no stars—only clouds and rain.

Archer heard running footsteps approaching. A man in a suit came up the drive from around the building. He looked like every other member of church security. There was a gun visible in his hand and he spotted Archer and fired as he ran. The shot wasn’t even close. Archer dropped a few feet from the gouge in the wall and squatted on the wet grass. He raised his arm and sighted down the Beretta. The guy was moving, but for Archer he was still an easy target. Archer fired and the guy dropped with a grunt, falling facedown on the blacktop.
 

Which direction had Alexander taken Tatum?

He heard sirens approaching. The explosion and the visible flames from the burning castle would have provoked a slew of 911. Archer stepped across the blacktop drive and spotted the swirl of flashing lights coming from the direction of the front gate. That was good news.

So, he could now eliminate the front gate as a potential route of escape for Alexander. Archer turned his attention elsewhere.
 

Then he spotted a paved footpath leading directly away from the castle. He jogged toward it and stopped at the top of the path, studying how the path disappeared into the dark cover of the trees. The path appeared to meander down through the tiered grounds and out of sight.

Archer glanced over his shoulder. Where else might they have gone? What other viable escape route could Alexander have chosen?

Archer went with his gut and headed down the path, first at a jog before breaking into a sprint.
 

* * *

Special Agent Dale Coffman had parked his car outside the entrance to the Church of the Narrow Gate and was on his cell phone, assembling his men around the property. Tom Webb stood next to him.
 

“Are you sure Archer’s inside?” Coffman asked.

“Absolutely.” Webb nodded.

The gunfire had started about thirty seconds after Coffman arrived. He was suddenly taking Webb’s call about the dead girls very seriously.

“Do you think he is armed?” Coffman asked.

“I certainly hope so,” Webb replied.

LAPD cruisers had the street blocked off, light bars flashing. Local citizens stood in the rain across the street, holding umbrellas and watching the excitement.

Coffman had spoken briefly with a church security officer through the iron bars of the gate, but then the man had retreated deeper inside and communication had ceased. Webb stood with his arms folded over his chest. He had received a call from Detective Pruitt that officers had located Natalia and Sonny, and that they were in custody and safe. It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. His family was safe. Webb was suddenly reenergized.
 

Coffman put his cell phone away and turned to Webb. “The decision has been made. We are going to bash in the gate. Let’s clear out of the way.”

Webb nodded with a smile. “Good plan.”

FORTY-SEVEN

There was a cemetery located at the northern edge of the estate. A metal fence surrounded it. Some of the tombstones dated back to when the original Catholic priest first founded the mission. Most were cut from limestone and had shifted in the ground after two centuries of storms and strong winds, while others were wood with names and dates chiseled into the pine and faded with age. The cemetery was mostly forgotten and was thick with weeds. The fence was rusted and the white paint had flaked off decades ago.

Alexander and Tatum reached the end of the paved path and Alexander opened the cemetery gate. Tatum’s eye widened at the sight of the gravestones. She suddenly clutched tightly at Alexander’s hand.

“Why … why are we going in there?” she stuttered.

“We are going
through
it,” he said as he reset the latch behind them.

Lightning forked across the sky above the trees. The ground was muddy. Tatum tripped over her own feet and fell, arresting her fall by putting out her hands. She was suddenly up to her forearms in mud, face to face with the wooden grave marker of a teenage girl who had died before the Civil War. Tatum read the dates chiseled into the wood and then rocked back into a squat to catch her breath.

“Get up,” Alexander said, tugging at her sleeve. He stared back up the hill the way they’d come. He looked very anxious. Tatum had never seen him this way. He had always appeared so calm and unruffled. She had believed that nothing on earth could possibly bother him. Now she was seeing something new.

“Up!” he said.
 

Tatum detected anger in his voice. It made her feel scared. For the past week she had felt so totally and completely safe in Alexander’s presence. But she suddenly didn’t feel that way anymore. In that moment she no longer trusted him with all her heart.

“I want to go back and find my father,” she said. She pushed her wet hair out of her face. There was a streak of mud on her cheek.

The look of anger in his eyes softened for a moment as he put out his hand for her.
 

“I’m sorry if I frightened you,” he said. “That wasn’t my intention. It’s just very important that you come with me right now. I’m taking you somewhere safe. Please trust me, Tatum.”

But she didn’t. The warmth in his eyes seemed insincere. She felt manipulated. It was an icky feeling. Suddenly she began to doubt the entire experience of the past week. Had they really healed her? Yes! She was certain of it. She’d spent the past day enjoying the daylight, without fear or crippling anxiety. Confusion swirled inside of her.

“What was the explosion?” she asked. “What happened?”

“I do not know,” Alexander answered truthfully.

“I need to know that my father is safe. I’m worried about him,” she pleaded.

“There is not time now. Silas will make sure your father is safe.”

Tatum felt conflicted. From where she stood the trees were thick enough that she could no longer see the fire.
 

“How much farther?” she asked.

“We are almost there,” he assured her.

She took his hand and they worked their way down the remainder of the hillside. The ground was sloped and muddy. Tatum couldn’t keep her footing. Alexander helped her along. Finally they reached the wall. He cleared away a pile of limbs and brush to reveal a door panel set into the ground. It was metal with a loop of chain attached. Alexander heaved on the chain to lift the door open. Tatum gazed into the darkness below. There were wooden steps inside.

“Go on,” Alexander told her.

Tatum nodded and started down the steps into the underground passage. Alexander followed right behind her, then paused long enough to swing the door shut above his head. They stumbled along in darkness for a hundred feet until they reached a place where water was pouring down through an iron grate. Alexander lifted up on the grate and shoved it aside. He climbed out first, then reached in to help her. Tatum looked around and realized they had simply come up out of a drainage gutter on the side of a road. Both of them were covered in mud.

Tatum backed away and turned in a circle to look around. She looked across the street at the church wall. She actually felt a twinge of sadness in her heart that such a perfect few days had come to an end. During her time there she had felt like a new person.

Alexander glanced at his watch and knew they had to hurry. He was still anxious to get on the jet and get it off the ground. He turned to walk to his waiting car when something grabbed his leg.

Archer had reached out of the hole and grabbed hold of Alexander’s ankle. Then with one firm pull, jerked him down into the underground passage with him. Alexander landed on his back and saw stars for a moment. Archer pounced on him.