Cain (36 page)

Archette responded. "General, you are making vague but serious accusations. Are you saying that—"

"I'm saying that you wanted Trinity to fail. You approved Trinity but you didn't know that
Soloman would be a factor. There was no personnel, just a plan. But when Soloman got involved you got scared because you knew he might actually be able to hunt this thing down and put it in the dirt. No, I don't have any proof because you're too smart to leave any. But I'm going to find somebody, in the end, who will talk. Then I'm going to haul you before a tribunal and you can spin this yarn to them. But it ain't gonna go easy on you, 'cause I'll be there. And you'll curse the day you ever heard my name."

"This release of absurd anger is not the purpose of our meeting, General." Archette s gaunt face was unshaken. "We are here to decide an effective means of terminating the Trinity Failsafe."

"They're finished," Ben grunted. "You'll see to it." He let it settle. "All of this is being recorded by the Office of Security but I don't care ‘cause you're finished. You crossed the line with Soloman, old son. Crossed the line with me. Crossed the line by authorizing Genocide One when you knew what might happen. I may never be able to prove anything but I'm gonna haunt you the rest of your life. 'Cause you can't do this to people. You pushed Soloman’s wife and kid into the street because Soloman was somehow messing up your plans. I know it. I can feel it. Then you tried from the first to negate the Trinity Failsafe because Soloman was recalled to active duty. And you're scared of him. You've always been scared of him."

"General, try and be civil." Archette was sympathetic, as if dealing with an overstressed patient. "I truly admire Colonel
Soloman. Indeed, he is a soldier worthy of respect. And I have done nothing more than deliver my opinion to these inquiries. I have no secret agenda and I am willing to open myself once again to investigation should you accuse me of such. But a catastrophe is on the table and we must deal with it effectively. We must decide an alternate approach because Trinity is obviously inadequate."

"Your opinion," Ben growled. "In my opinion, Trinity has gone above and beyond. They've lost almost every man on the team and they're still fighting. They've got less than they've ever had and they're closer to winning this thing than they ever were. So patronize these other idiots, Archette. But don't lie to me. I've got your number."

"General." Archette was painfully patient. "I will be more than generous in any investigation you wish to initiate. But we must decide on Trinity. That is the issue at hand." He was eminently forgiving. "The rest of what you declare can be dealt with at a later time."

Silence.

It was a brief war of wills, but Ben knew he couldn't overcome the chair of this meeting. Archette would navigate the debate to his own course, and there was nothing he could do about it.

But if
Soloman or the kid were hurt, Ben knew, Hell itself would pay.

***

Aveling finished the conversation with a remarkably excited Monsignor Balcanza—as if the old priest had found his World War II blood electrified by the game—and did not look at Barth as he returned to the room. As Aveling strolled, his face was a study in stony concentration.

"And what did the Monsignor discover?" Barth finally asked. "Did his
reply fulfill your suspicions?"

"There are several families," Aveling said. "But there is one
that is far, far above the rest. It is old, and virtually unknown. But we do know of it."

He turned to the window, pensive. "It is on Long Island. They are ...
rich beyond measure, and discreet rumors have intimated that they have strong intelligence contacts. We have never confronted them."

"And now?" Barth was steady. "Will you commit us to this, Aveling?"

"Yes," he said. "And that will be the risk because, as you say, I could
be deceived by my own cunning. I could be chasing a serpent in the sea with no light to guide me through the green depths." He paused. "Use one of our more skilled people to contact this general, Benjamin Hawken. He and Soloman are apparently close friends, and we must decide to trust someone – a necessary risk. And I speak not as a priest; I speak as a man who loves someone as a son, and knows the value of sacrifice. So give this general our suspicions and then provide him with the address of these people on Long Island. If the CIA agent goes to this location, then our gambit is confirmed. From that point, it is in the hands of this man. And God."

Exhausted, Barth rose to his feet. "How much long
er, Aveling? How much longer must we endure?"

"To the end," Aveling said, concentrating. "To the end."

***

Frowning,
Soloman slowly picked up the phone. Said nothing.

"Sol?"

"Yeah. I'm here."

"We've been recalled," Ben said fla
tly. "I fought with all of them but Archette was chairing. He's got his own agenda and you need to be careful. They denied me every extension of funds and equipment. Recalled all of us. I'm sorry, buddy."

Soloman
's laugh was frightening. "You tell 'em that it's too late for that. If they want to recall me, they can kill me. That's the only way they're taking me out of the field."

There was a disturbing silence and Ben lowered his voice. "Look, Sol, this line ain't secure
and, I'm telling you, Archette says it's over. Officially over. We're out of funds and support."

"I know the line's not secure, Ben."
Soloman's voice held a bitter edge. "That's why I'm saying it. I'm going to get Amy back and if they want me out of the game, they can kill me."

"Look, Sol, I'm serious about this." There was no exasperation in the tone, just anger. "And believe me, buddy, if they have to put you in irons until this is over, they will. Our papers are canceled. Passports are recalled. Customs has shut us down."

Soloman's bitter smile didn't fade. "Tell 'em to go ahead." He was emotionless because all human emotion had been burned from him, replaced with a suicidal rage. "But if they try to put me in irons, somebody could get themselves killed. There's a little girl out there, Ben, and I'm going to find her."

Nothing was said for a time but
Soloman could almost hear Ben pondering.

"Sol," he continued, "listen to me on this, and listen good. I think they're sending over a team for you. They want you out. And I can advise you that you should expect to be arrested. They're not going to let you run off
..." Ben was silent a moment. "... like you did before."

A grimace twisted
Soloman's face and he slowly sat up. Something had been hit hard, awakened by the words—something he'd strangely forgotten in the horror of the night. He stood with profound purpose and Marcelle caught the commitment. Sister Mary Francis focused on him as he released a heavy sigh directly into the phone.

"You're right, Ben." His voice held an air of disappointment. "Tell them that I'll go peacefully. I won't make any trouble."

"I'll tell 'em, Sol." Ben hesitated. "The good guys left a few minutes ago, so they should be there within ten minutes. And good luck."

Soloman
hung up and motioned silently to Marcelle. Then he pointed to Mary Francis and the bedroom where Maggie lay and the old nun moved fast, her black cloak flowing.

Soloman
peeked out the front window and saw nothing, but didn't trust it. He spun as the priest came up, "Do your people have the resources to finish this, Marcelle?"

Marcelle nodded hard and
Soloman returned the gesture in a secret pact as the Mother Superior emerged, half-supporting Maggie. She was still groggy from the sedative and Soloman lifted her strongly in his arms. Marcelle opened the door and they descended the steps of the town house. They reached the car, a new LTD, in seconds.

Dropping Maggie in the backseat
Soloman snapped open the trunk and moved to the rear of the vehicle, jerking out the radio module to hurl it into the street, where it was snatched up by a group of high school kids. Then Marcelle settled beside him in the front seat as Soloman backed the car, Mother Superior Mary Francis supporting Maggie's head in the back.

Marcelle whispered, "The radio?"

"Has a GPS in it," Soloman said as he threw the car into drive and they broke into traffic. "Do you have a place we can hide until Maggie wakes up from the sedative?"

"Yes," Marcelle replied immediately, indicating a turn. "The Church
is not unqualified for the task." He gripped the seat as Soloman hung an extremely hard left. "We will finish this alone?"

"Yes!"
Soloman shouted, livid. "They're pulling the plug on us. They'll probably turn it over to the CIA. It doesn't matter. Amy will be dead by the time they find Cain. And I'm not going to let that happen."

"The FBI is hunting us?"

"Every intelligence agency in this world is hunting us."

Soloman
hung a hard turn, the LTD fishtailing. "But they can be beat. I've beat 'em before!"

Marcelle started violen
tly. "When?"

"When I—"

Soloman gritted his teeth as he chaotically crossed the curb to take the sidewalk, pedestrians scattering wildly. Then the LTD was on the street again, busting the light to get clear.

"For my daughter!"

Marcelle held the roof as Soloman hit another turn.

"Did you save her?" the priest shouted.

Soloman's reply was hard in hate.

"
No
."

***

Amy had stared for hours and yet the man had not moved. Sometimes his lips moved in a dark whisper but his eyes remained closed, his head bowed and motionless.

She was amazed as she had watched his body heal, skin peeling in sheets to fall away like the skin of an onion as new, pink skin, healthy and unhurt, emerged from beneath. His hideously ravaged head and face, also, had slowly reconstituted, becoming almost as smooth and unscarred as they were before the fight. Already a thin sheen of hair and skin was visible on the skull, which had gleamed a reddish-white only a few hours ago. Together they rested in the abandoned building somewhere in a city.

Cain sat on the dirt-caked floor while she lay on a moldy mattress, her hands and feet tied, tape over her mouth. And for the longest time she thought he had fallen asleep. But now she sensed that he was doing something else. He was meditating ... or something.

Finally he raised his head and a deep breath escaped him as he bent over, slowly opening his eyes to stare hatefully at nothing she could see.

Amy watched, afraid to move, hoping he'd forgotten her. Then he rolled his head and moved his fingers in a fluttering, quick gesture that made the talons click. He flexed a fist, holding it a moment before laughing that horrible, haunting laugh. Turned to her.

"Amazing, is it not?" He smiled slowly, a cruel red slash splitting beneath mocking eyes. "Amazing that this body holds such power." He
laughed again. "I thought that whore of a nun had exhausted my strength. How pleased I was to discover that she had not. For I still have much to do. I must locate Kano. I need ... The Circle."

Amy had trouble catching her breath. She didn't remember much of the night. Only cold, a soaring roar in her ears and then a landing silence with an even deeper cold. Then there had been a distant, frightening scream and more screams before the man returned and lifted her, moving with rumbling, galactic force through a dark forest. She woke up here.

"Mortals." He stared away. "They regard knowledge as evil. And yet they know nothing of knowledge. They know nothing of space or light or worlds beyond the scope of their imagination." He sighed, "I spoke with him—warred with him face-to-face and I knew the terrible scope of that arm. So, no, I was never deceived. And I myself was almost without limit, made to resemble him in every way." He frowned. "These mortals wonder stupidly at my image. But my image was as his – as the sun in all its glory. No creature in Heaven could look upon me with pride."

There was silence until he clenched his fists and gritted his teeth.
"Michael! You were such a fool! Together we could have made the North run red with blood! Together we could have taken that Throne! But then, there was always ... the Nazarene."

Amy saw the face darken,
the hard lines burning in the frown, the black eyes. "Yes, always the Nazarene – the one who had the pride to taunt even me! To call me murderer ... Thief ... Seducer ... Liar. But he will regret his scorn. For I will yet drag him down in his vassal’s human form to this disintegrating world, and the chains will change." He was silent a long time. "Do you really believe that I, as lofty as I am, failed to see the essence of what you were?" He laughed. "No, for certain, space and time cannot change. And you think I didn't understand? But I understood too well! I understood from the beginning what you had created and what my place could be within it! Nor did I care for what I could not claim!

"The infinite belongs to you and always shall! But this . . .
this
that exists in space and time was mine and shall be again!" He grimaced. "No, you are not undefeatable! I destroyed your work by power. I destroyed your work by deception. I defeated you again and again and I will defeat you again! Your only victory lies with the horror of the hill ... my only crime. For until then I had never killed an innocent man. I had never violated your ... your
justice
! I won by right! I won by might! I had taken nothing that was not rightfully mine!"