The Veritas Conflict (25 page)

She began to tremble and pulled away. Suddenly, rough hands gripped her arms, holding her tight. She looked wildly over her shoulder at the stony faces of two large men she had never seen before. They held her fast as she began squirming in earnest.

Victor watched impassively as she began screaming for help, twisting and scratching. Somehow she broke free and darted toward the crowd. Hands grabbed at her clothing, wrenching her back. She felt the rough grasp of the two men, yanking her hair, pulling her backward and down to her knees.

She was panting, the knees of her elegant trousers soaking in the moisture of the grass. Desperately she sought the faces of her friends among the crowd of Fellows. They had stepped to the front of the group, their expressions hard, cold.

Suddenly she understood. Her heart contracted with bottomless despair.

Large hands were firm on her shoulders, holding her down. With a shuddering breath, she looked up at the sky. The stars were pin-point bright, scattered through the blackness like tiny shards of broken glass.

Victor stood still, staring down at her, his lips parted in a small smile. Someone had handed him a head-high wooden pole that he held like a ceremonial staff. It was intricately engraved with a leafy vine and bore a wicked steel point.
A pike
.

Victor checked his watch and nodded at the men behind her. She raised her chin, defiant. They yanked her to her feet and faced her toward him. Each one took a wrist and pulled outward until she was stretched out between them. She clamped her mouth shut, trying not to gasp in pain.

Victor took a short step forward and backhanded her across her fece. Johanna was
thrown sideways. The large men faced her forward again, and Victor struck her other cheek. One more time, and she slumped between her captors, her head thick and the taste of blood in her mouth.

Victor stepped back, stretching out the pike toward the hanging figure. “Here we have the traitor, the one unworthy of our sacred trust. She has broken the first article of the Cardinal Mandate.”

“The Masters demand a sacrifice,” the crowd responded.

“Let this, the first atonement in five years, serve as a pleasing offering to prosper our way.” Victor raised his chin and slowly scanned the crowd. “And let this serve as a warning to the younger ones among us who may have been lax in considering the pledges of their blood oath.”

He paused and addressed the small group of Fellows at the front of the crowd. “And let this motivate you all to follow the approaching matter with the utmost care. No mistakes.” His eyes bored into those of James Station, emphasizing each word. “No mistakes.”

He turned back to Johanna’s two captors and nodded. They released their grasps. Johanna swayed slightly in surprise. Suddenly, Murphy and James were beside her, the other Fellows approaching from the front. They began crowding her backward, their hands pushing and prodding, their eyes intent.

She took one step backward, then another. She could feel the cool breeze from the ocean, hear the waves crashing on the rocks below the bluffs. She tried to push against her former friends, tried to shove forward through the crowd, tried to scream. There were too many hands, knocking the wind out of her. No sound came out.

Johanna felt the ground grow soft under her heel, and her mind reeled in terror. Only moments. Only moments.

James grabbed one elbow, Murphy the other.

“No! NO!” Her mind grappled for something, anything to save her. “God, help me!

The crowd hissed, their faces contorted.

With a flood of emotion, she felt a terrible pain at the utter selfishness of her life, the futility of how it was ending. She twisted and struggled with all her might. “O God, O Jesus! Forgive me!” She tasted salty tears as the final inches gave way. “Forgive me!”

And as her feet left the edge, her mind was flooded not with terror, but with a strange sensation she’d never felt before. She floated downward, a rapturous smile growing on her face as a shining person came into view above her. She reached out and He took her hand, the depth of eternity in His voice.

“Today, my child, you will be with Me in Paradise.”

The rocks rushed toward her, pain exploding in her head, a white-hot comet flashing toward an unknown realm. The last of the blackness that her wonder-filled eyes saw was a glimpse of Victor at the edge of the cliffs, screaming in rage.

TWENTY-THREE

M
URPHY
B
ARKER STEPPED OUT OF THE SAUNA
, clouds of steam billowing out the door behind him. The air of the locker room was like a cold blast on his skin. He grabbed a thick towel from the folded pile nearby, wrapping it around his waist. The soft terry cloth was monogrammed with KCP—Keppler, Collins, and Preston, the New York investment bank where he’d spent the first four years of his career.

He rubbed another towel over his face and hair, then strode to his locker. Better get back to the desk before the conference call with Mulligan on the Lima deal. Their paperwork had had some dangerous holes again. If their cash flow was going to be of any use to the Mandate, they’d better exercise a little more quality control. They—

“Barks!”

Murphy swiveled. “Hey, Tank, how’s it going?” He sat on the bench and pulled on his socks and shoes.

“Much better since we kicked your sorry tails all over the court last night.” His colleague opened the locker a few paces down the row and loosened his tie. He grinned sideways. “Word on the street is that you were so distressed this morning you went out and made a few stupid calls on the Mulligan deal when the markets opened.”

“Not stupid, Tankton. Well informed.”

“What … have you actually talked to Mulligan?”

“You know that’s illegal.”

“Yeah. So was some of that garbage you pulled in the basketball game last night.”

Murphy smiled and closed the locker. “Gotta go. I’ve got a one o’clock conference call I shouldn’t miss.”

Two hours later, Murphy finished entering his notes from the call into a secure file. He shook his head in exasperation. For such a longtime Fellow, Mulligan was unusually verbose.

He went on-line and typed in a site name. The screen came up a uniform white, empty. He clicked on a particular corner of the screen, and a small dialog box popped up. He typed in a password and another dialog box floated to the surface: “Verify specifications.” He entered several letters and numbers.

The computer hard drive whirred for a moment. The screen read “Entering secure Intranet. Please wait” then changed to “Transmission verified. Please continue.”

The glow of the computer monitor was reflected in Murphys eyes as he clicked through various tasks, uploading the secure file he’d just finished, replying to several directives, and posting responses to colleagues in other locations.

It took over an hour, but he didn’t mind. This was his real job.

He was just finishing his last posting when he heard a sharp rap on his office door. He quickly pressed a key and a KCP media report appeared on his screen as the door opened.

His boss looked in. “You in the middle of something?”

“Just reading today’s evaluation of the entertainment industry. Good growth potential.”

“Not in anything I’d want my kids to watch.” His boss dropped a thin file on Murphy’s desk “I need you to go over to the client site for a meeting in an hour. The lawyers need some hand-holding until this Lima pharmaceutical deal goes through. And we need Mulligan’s signature on this paperwork today. You obviously won’t be able to talk to him yourself, but see if the lawyers can walk it in to his secretary.”

“Sure, boss.”

As the office door closed again, Murphy made a face. What a sniveling idiot. Groveling to every directive was getting on his nerves.

He punched a keyboard sequence and returned to his original task. A request for a hand-carry from someone in another group caught his eye, and he smiled with anticipation as he picked up the telephone to call for details. He was going to be near that area of the city anyway. What perfect timing.

The rush-hour crowd was thick on the sidewalk as Murphy retraced his steps. They had said it was easy to miss. His eyes flickered to the numbers above the doorways. One door had no number, just a small sign reading Peephole Publications. Bingo.

The door was black with no windows. An intercom panel was set off to the side. Murphy set down his heavy briefcase and pressed the intercom button twice.

“Yes?”

“Tom Smith here. I’m picking up a package from Jenks.”

“Great. Come on in, down to the end of the hall.”

Murphy heard a slight buzz and a click as the door unlatched. A long hallway stretched in front of him, lit by bare florescent bulbs. Plastic chairs populated a small waiting area at the end of the hallway. Psychedelic murals lined the walls and ceiling. Random stickers and postcards decorated a closed door.

Murphy stood, waiting. The heavy smell of cigarette smoke—and something else—hung in the air. He’d probably have to get his suit coat dry-cleaned before he wore it again.

After a few minutes the door opened and a thin man strolled in carrying a thick manila envelope. He stuck out his hand. “Jenks. Good to meet you.” He looked about twice Murphy’s age, his hair thin and oily.

Murphy shook the offered hand. “Tom Smith. I’m here to pick up the third-quarter papers.”

“Yes.” Jenks handed over the package. His eyes were wary. “The usual? Secure courier?”

“Absolutely. Hand-carried. Oh … and I’m supposed to tell you that because things have gotten so busy, it’ll probably be a week before they’re finished.”

“You boys really need to get more people working on it.”

“Oh, trust me.” Murphy’s smile was all teeth. “We’re recruiting all the time. And it’s in our best interests to process the quarterlies as soon as possible, too, you know. As soon as we do these, your bonus will be deposited.”

“Great. Fabulous.” Jenks took a cigarette packet from his jeans pocket and tapped a cigarette out. He stuck it between his lips, speaking around the obstruction. “So where do you work?”

Murphy just shook his head, smiling.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But I can’t help asking.”

Jenks lit the dangling cigarette and pulled the smoke deep into his lungs. Murphy made no move to leave. Jenks blew a cloud of smoke sideways, watching his visitor.

“You want to watch the shoot? We’ve got a new girl getting ready right now.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

The klieg lights were so hot. Beyond them, in the darkness, the young woman couldn’t see the shadowy shapes that she knew were watching.

Click! Click! Click!
Her back ached from the strain of holding her position. She could feel herself trembling, silky material caressing the backs of her legs. Her fingers tightened, holding the whisper-thin garment together at her collarbone.

She wanted to vomit. Why had she gone this far? Why hadn’t she spent her last few dollars on a bus ticket home? She had somehow known that this day, this choice, would come. Perspiration beaded on her upper lip.

“Cut!”
Jenks peeled away from the blackness behind the camera and set his hands on his hips.

The makeup girl appeared beside her with a giant powder brush. She applied powder
to her face, blotting out the offending moisture. The soft bristles continued their work, moving downward. She made a gesture and the young model slowly opened the garment, watching the makeup girl’s face as she worked. She was chewing gum, totally uninterested.

The young woman knew the gauzy material barely covered anything, but at least it was
some
type of covering. And what choice did she have, really? Yesterday her super had tossed her neighbor’s stuff out onto the sidewalk. “No rent, no room!” Behind the high-up blinds she had shivered, watching. In two days that would be her.

She had pounded the pavement, but there were so many girls chasing so few jobs. She didn’t even have money for food, and she couldn’t face going back to her mom’s trailer park—even if she could get there. The guy who’d offered to be her agent said it was only a matter of time before her breakthrough. And in the meantime he’d offered her a job that would make her rent for the month. Everyone in the industry knew these jobs were a rite of passage. Get with it. What was the problem?

She had stared at the business card a long time before she made the call.

The makeup girl stepped away, and she gratefully pulled herself together again.

“Hmm.” The word was soft. “Wait.”

Jenks suddenly appeared in the pool of light. “I liked that last view, my dear.”

He stopped in front of her, his eyes traveling her length. She didn’t move as he pulled the soft material away and down. “Yes, much better.”

As he walked back to the camera, she could feel the air conditioning against her skin. She bit her lip and raised her chin. She would not cry.

Murphy watched from the darkness, his eyes hungry and appreciative. These were the perks he liked best.

He spoke briefly to the girl’s agent, who was also smoking, a cigarette dangling from limp fingers. “How old is she?”

“Seventeen.”

“Old enough.” Murphy’s gaze never left the pool of light. “How’s business?”

“Better every year, my man. Better every year.”

TWENTY-FOUR

T
HE ROOM WAS SO QUIET
, C
LAIRE THOUGHT
, that you really could have heard a pin drop. Students packed the seats and stairs and every inch of standing room, yet each person at the Harvard Christian Fellowship meeting was enthralled as Professor Mansfield took them through the history of Harvard’s early years.

She had been startled to see that the dynamite speaker Brad had referred to a few weeks before was her European history professor. She was delighted to learn that he was a Christian and obviously beloved by the older members of HCF.

“How many of you have felt that the environment here at Harvard was apathetic or even antagonistic toward Christian beliefs and values?”

A forest of hands shot up in the air. Claire looked around. Nearly everyone in the room. It wasn’t just her!