The Revelation Code (Wilde/Chase 11) (8 page)

6

A
faint knocking woke Nina. She frowned and raised her head, eyes still half closed. ‘Eddie, get the door, will you . . .’

Memory slammed back into place. She jerked upright in fear and confusion. Books and papers fell to the floor. She had fallen asleep fully clothed, her research scattered around her. How long she’d been out, she had no idea, but the daylight beyond the shutters was back; it had faded into night long before she dropped into an uneasy slumber.

Another knock at the door. ‘What?’ she shouted, scrambling to her feet.

‘Dr Wilde?’ came a female voice. ‘My name’s Miriam. The Prophet asked me to bring you to him.’

‘He did, huh?’ she said, crossing to the door. Red lights blinked on the cameras as she moved. She flipped them the bird. ‘Well, he can wait until I’ve had a shower and some breakfast.’

A pause, then the voice hesitantly returned. ‘Uh . . . he wants to see you right now.’

Nina tried the door; this time, it wasn’t locked. Standing outside in the morning sun was a slim, pretty woman in her early twenties, wavy rust-brown hair dropping to her shoulders. Her clothing, a knee-length dress and a pair of sandals, was all white. ‘You pregnant, Miriam?’

Her visitor was startled. ‘Ah . . . no?’ she said uncertainly.

Nina opened the door and pointed at her own bump. ‘Well I am, and let me give you some useful advice for if you ever are: pregnant ladies always get to choose when they meet people. Okay? Tell your Prophet I’ll see him when I’m good and ready. Which might be in ten minutes, it might be ten hours. Later, tater.’ She gave the freckle-cheeked woman a mocking wave, then slammed the door before going to the kitchen to search for food.

Another knock came a few minutes later. ‘Yeah, what?’ shouted Nina through a mouthful of cereal.

Miriam peered around the door. ‘I’m sorry, I . . . I don’t want to intrude, but . . . but the Prophet sent me to bring you, and – and I don’t know what’ll happen if I go back to him without you.’

Nina spotted the glistening line of a tear on her cheek. ‘Are you crying?’

Miriam hurriedly wiped her face. ‘I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry . . .’

The redhead’s annoyance changed to concern. Her visitor was upset, even afraid. Nina went to her. ‘Are you okay? Your Prophet, Cross – will he hurt you if I don’t go with you?’

She was genuinely shocked at the suggestion. ‘No, no, of course not! It’s just . . . I don’t want to let him down.’

‘Were you standing outside the door this whole time?’

Miriam nodded. ‘I didn’t want to make you mad, especially as you’re with child.’

‘Trust me, you’re
way
down the list of things that have spiked my cortisol levels in the past twenty-four hours.’ She glared at the nearest camera. ‘So, what,’ she told her watchers, ‘you send this poor girl to get me as part of some emotional blackmail plan? Jesus!’

Miriam’s mouth fell open in shock, this time at the blasphemy. Nina gave her an irritated look. ‘I’m guessing you’re not from New York if something that mild upsets you. All right, okay, I’m coming,’ she told the camera with a frustrated shrug. ‘First things first, though.’

‘What?’ asked Miriam.

‘I need to pee. Maybe that’s over-sharing, but I really don’t care.’ She disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the blushing woman staring after her.

After an unrushed break, Nina re-emerged to find her guest still waiting. She gathered her papers. ‘Okay, let’s go.’

Miriam led her out of the house and through the Mission. She was silent to begin with, only piping up very quietly about halfway down the street of little houses. ‘Ulysses.’

‘What?’ said Nina.

‘Ulysses, Kansas. That’s where I’m from. Well, not the actual town – I grew up on a farm about ten miles away. So no, I’m not from New York.’

‘Yeah, I’d guessed.’

‘But I always wanted to see it. It looks amazing. Scary, though. Isn’t there a lot of crime?’

Nina made a sarcastic sound. ‘Sure, if you hop in your time machine and go back to the seventies. You aren’t going to get stabbed in the middle of Times Square in broad daylight. Probably.’

‘Okay . . .’ was the uncertain reply. ‘I’d still like to go one day, though.’

‘What’s stopping you? You’re not a prisoner here, are you?’

‘Of course not! I came here by my own choice, to follow the Prophet.’ She smiled and gestured at their sunny surroundings. ‘It’s lovely here. And I’m with friends who think the same way I do. Why would I want to leave?’

‘I can think of a few reasons,’ said Nina, regarding the nearest set of security cameras. ‘So where
is
here?’

Miriam opened her mouth to reply, then clapped it shut. ‘I, uh . . . I’m sorry, but I was told not to tell you anything about the Mission.’

‘But we’re somewhere in the Caribbean, right?’

She clenched her hands in agitation. ‘I’m sorry, really I am, but I can’t tell you.’

‘You do know that I
didn’t
come here by my own choice? I was kidnapped, Miriam – that’s a federal offence, and every country in the Caribbean, even Cuba, has an extradition treaty with the US. Anyone who’s involved in keeping me a prisoner here will be counted as an accessory. That’ll get you a minimum thirty years in a federal prison.’ She had no idea if that were true, but could tell from Miriam’s alarm that she had made her point. ‘You realise that, don’t you? But if you help me get out of here . . .’

Conflict was clear on the young woman’s face. ‘I . . . I’m sorry, but I can’t, I really can’t,’ she said at last. ‘I can’t go against the Prophet. I just can’t! I’m sorry.’

Nina held back her anger. Miriam was genuinely upset at not being able to help, but also unwilling – or unable – to disobey her leader. ‘This Prophet,’ she said instead, changing tack, ‘why do you follow him? What’s he offering you?’

Miriam’s smile returned as if a switch had been flipped. ‘He’s going to lead us to the new Jerusalem! God’s dwelling place will come down out of heaven to the earth, and He will live amongst us and wipe away all the tears from our eyes.’

‘And there’ll be no more pain or sorrow, right?’ Nina recognised her words as part of Revelation, which she had read several times the previous night.

‘That’s right!’

‘And how exactly is he going to do this?’

‘I don’t know. But I trust him,’ she quickly added. ‘Everything the Prophet says makes sense. Revelation will come to pass, and God’s kingdom on earth will begin.’

‘So you think your Prophet’s a good man?’

‘Of course he is!’

Nina’s expression hardened. ‘Good men don’t kidnap pregnant women, Miriam. And they don’t torture people to force them to cooperate.’

She shook her head. ‘He wouldn’t do that.’

‘He
has
done that! He made me watch my husband being electrocuted with a cattle prod!’ Seeing the other woman’s dismay, she pressed on: ‘He’s no prophet; he’s an ex-CIA agent who went nuts. Whatever Cross really wants, it’s not peace on earth and everyone singing “Kumbaya”. You’ve got to help me!’

Miriam scowled. Nina realised she’d pushed too hard and put her on the defensive. ‘He’s not nuts,’ she protested. ‘You’ll see. When the angels are all released and the seventh trumpet blows, you’ll see!’

‘What will I see?’

‘The truth,’ said a new voice. They had almost reached the church, and Nina looked up to see Cross at the top of the steps. ‘God’s truth will be revealed.’ His eyes flicked towards the papers Nina was holding. ‘Soon, I hope. Very soon.’

Miriam curtseyed. ‘Prophet, I’ve brought her, like you asked.’

‘Thank you, Miriam. You can go back to your studies now.’

She nodded, giving the archaeologist an uncertain look before departing. Nina glowered at her host. ‘Hope you’re not expecting
me
to curtsey.’

‘Come inside, Dr Wilde,’ he said. ‘I hope we’ve got a lot to talk about.’

Nina followed Cross into the church. With him was a large young man she didn’t recognise, hard-faced and with a distinctly military-style moustache. ‘Replacement bodyguard?’ she asked. ‘What happened to the charmers who brought me here?’

‘The Witnesses are preparing for a mission,’ Cross replied. ‘They flew out last night; I want them ready to move as soon as you find the location of the first angel.’

‘They’re the two witnesses?’ Nina asked, picking up on another Revelation reference.

‘Yes.’

‘That explains the outfits, then.’

Cross nodded. ‘Chapter eleven, verse three – “And I will give power unto my two witnesses, and they shall prophesy a thousand two hundred and threescore days, clothed in sackcloth.”’

‘Must be itchy for them. Especially in this heat.’ Even early in the day, the temperature was already well over seventy degrees Fahrenheit.

‘They can endure it. They’ll endure anything to get the job done.’

They went through to the control room. It had acquired a table and chairs since her previous visit. Cross’s imposing high-tech throne was at its head; he took his seat and gestured for Nina to join him. She sat at the opposite end, making a point of sliding her chair as far away from him as possible. The other man took up a somewhat intimidating position close behind her. ‘Now,’ said Cross, ‘the Synagogue of Satan, the Throne of Satan and the Place in the Wilderness. Do you know where they are?’

‘Not yet,’ she lied. ‘I might have some ideas – but I’m not doing anything until I see that Eddie’s okay.’

The cult leader let out an irritated breath. ‘All right. You can see him.’ His hand went to one of the touch screens.

‘And talk to him.’

His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t push me, Dr Wilde. My patience isn’t infinite.’

‘Mine’s hanging by a frickin’ thread. I want to talk to Eddie before I do anything else.’

‘You want to talk to him? All right.’ There was a nasty undertone that immediately put her on alert, but he tapped at the pad. The wall of screens lit up, showing the same elevated angle of Eddie as before. He was either asleep or unconscious, his arms and legs still secured. ‘There he is.’

‘Eddie!’ she called. ‘Eddie, are you okay? Eddie!’

‘He can’t hear you,’ Cross said. ‘I haven’t turned on the microphone yet.’

‘Then do that. You want me to cooperate, you want me to find your damn angels? Then let me talk to him.’

He sneered, then ran his finger over a slider. ‘Okay.’

‘Eddie, can you hear me?’ she said.

For a moment there was no response, then her husband raised his head. ‘Nina?’ he croaked.

‘Oh, thank God. Are you all right?’

He tried to move, only to let out a sharp gasp. ‘Ow! No, my arms are fucking killing me. These bastards left me cuffed to this fucking chair all night.’ He rolled both shoulders, trying to ease the pain in his stiff muscles. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And the baby?’

‘Fine, it’s fine. They haven’t done anything to hurt me – yet.’

‘Wish I could say the same.’

‘Me too. But I’m going to do everything I can to get you out of there. They’re trying to find the angels in the Throne and Synagogue of Satan—’

Cross stabbed at the pad again, cutting her off. Only one end of the link had been muted, though. ‘Nina?’ said Eddie with growing anger and alarm. ‘Nina, what’s happening?’

‘You’ve spoken to him,’ Cross said to Nina. ‘Now, this is what happens if you make another demand of me.’ Another swipe at the slider. ‘Mr Irton? Proceed.’

‘No!’ cried Nina, but he had already cut the mic. Irton stepped into frame, holding a couple of large, thick cloths.

Eddie struggled uselessly against his bonds. ‘You get away from me, you fucking—’

Irton punched him in the stomach, leaving him gasping. Two more men came into view. One went behind the chair, releasing a chain that was holding it to a metal ring on the floor, while Irton wrapped both cloths tightly around the Englishman’s head.

Nina realised what they were about to do. ‘God, no!’ she cried, jumping to her feet, but the bodyguard pushed her roughly back down. ‘Don’t, please!’ She grabbed her notes and waved them at Cross. ‘I’ll tell you what I’ve found out!’

His response was a look of cold dismissal. ‘I warned you, Dr Wilde.’ He worked the volume control again. ‘Do it.’

The cloths were secured. Eddie jerked in the seat, straining to draw in air through the stifling material. The two other men hauled the chair and its occupant a foot off the floor, then tipped it until the back of Eddie’s head thumped against the concrete. Nina cringed, knowing that he was about to suffer even more – and that she was utterly helpless to prevent it.

Irton had moved out of sight while his companions lifted the chair; he now returned holding a bucket of water, which he held over Eddie’s head . . .

And started to pour.

The water splashed on to the wrapped cloth. The weight of the sodden material pressed it down on to Eddie’s face, revealing its contours – and his mouth opening wide as water filled his nostrils. He tried to cry out, but all that emerged was a gargling moan as Irton kept pouring.

Nina stood again, but was shoved back into her chair. ‘Stop it! Stop! Let him go!’ she screamed at Cross. ‘You bastard, you’re killing him!’

‘He’ll live,’ he replied. ‘British special forces, wasn’t he? He’ll have had SERE training; he can withstand being waterboarded. For a while, at least. Nobody can hold out for ever.’ He looked back at the screens, where Eddie was squirming as the water flowed over his head. ‘The CIA didn’t teach us these techniques so we could resist them. They taught them so we know how to use them.’

She stared at him, appalled. ‘You’re insane.’

‘Insanity is seeing all the evils in this world and refusing to do anything to stop them. I’m going to stop them, Dr Wilde. And you’ll help me.’ His intense eyes locked on to hers. ‘Are we in agreement?’

‘Just stop hurting him,’ she said, defeated. ‘Please.’

Cross was still for several seconds, then nodded. ‘That’s enough, Mr Irton. Bring him back up.’

Irton retreated. His companions hauled their prisoner upright, one securing the chair back to the floor while the other peeled away the soaking fabric. Eddie retched, blowing water from his nose.