The Messiah Choice (1985) (35 page)

"How did you find us?" MacDonald asked the strange enemy. He was trying to place the voice, but, while it might be electronically altered, it really didn't sound like anyone he'd ever met or known.

"It was extremely difficult, I admit," the dark one replied. "Frankly, we felt we had blown it.

Your organization is far more efficient than we had dreamed or planned on, Mr. MacDonald. Of course, there were twin objects to the exercise. One was allowing Angelique to both sink into savagery and see what it was like to exist like that in the modem world. To dismantle the last of her civilized ego, as it were, showing the futility of flight and leading to this moment, where we demonstrate the futility of true escape. The second was the hope that she would lead us to parts of your organization, which we'd been otherwise unable to find or penetrate. Still, you led us a merry chase. When that seaplane vanished into thin air after leaving Ensenada air space, we were thrown into a panic. The odds were good after time passed that even if we found you, it would be too late for our ends. I'm very happy to see that it is not so. We would not have been so hesitant to act.''

"I'll bet. And yet you
did
track us down, even to this place."

"Believe me, we did not and could not. When we missed you at the house and discovered no one left knew where you were going or even what direction, it was almost as bad. We had to sit, and wait, and keep the pressure on, and, sure enough, it broke. Oh, don't worry about our little Angelique here being kept in the dark, as it were. She understands what I say as well as you—

although not what you say, sadly."

There was a sharp double knock on the motel room door that startled them but didn't faze the Dark Man. He reached over and turned the knob on the door, but MacDonald already had figured out who was there before Maria walked back in, looking quite wet and not at all happy about it.

For Angelique, though, it was a crushing blow, worse in a way than the appearance of the Dark Man.

She closed the door behind her and stood there next to the Dark Man, looking at the pair on the bed with a grim expression.

"Miss Iscariot, I believe," MacDonald said with a sneer. "If you were his all along, why wait until the last moment? Just rubbing it in?"

"I wasn't—his," she replied, sounding nervous and miserable. "I just—figured it all out—that's all. After I saw—
her
—in that parking lot, I realized just what she had become and what
I
had become. There's an eight hundred number you can call that will route your call to the Institute.

You know that. After I called you, I thought and thought, and then I called it."

"Pretty lousy response time for you, Blob Boy, isn't it? It took you almost three hours to hit the house."

"A message routing problem of sorts. It took a while to get the information to the right people, round them up, and get them in the right place to act without official interference. Still, you acted with even more efficiency than we did. That cost us. Then we had to wait. Wait until our little Maria decided to call again—either the number or the house. She finally called the house this morning from here. After that, it was mostly a matter of timing."

Angelique stared at Maria, appalled.
"Why, my daughter? Why? After so much and after all we
have been through.
..."

Maria answered slowly in English, but it was clear that Angelique could hear and understand whoever and whatever the Dark Man chose.

"Because I knew. They were either gonna kill you or lock you in like that forever, and I never figured on Greg actually going through with it. Even when he did, I thought about it. Like that, forever, always on the run, never being human—it was horrible, and you were dragging
him
down with you. I couldn't let that happen, but I couldn't let those cold blooded leeches blow you away, either. And for what? They said it'd only slow 'em down a little, not stop 'em. It was for
nothing
! So I called 'em. We made a deal, that's all, and you won't be stuck and neither will he and nobody will die."

Angelique felt tears coming to her eyes.
"More will die because of what you did. To save one,
or two, you may massacre millions!'

"Yeah, well, I don't know those millions and they never did anything for me that didn't benefit them more. I know me, and I know you two."

"And do you think he'll keep that deal now?" MacDonald asked her. "Why should he?"

"A proper point, and at this late stage rather beside the point," the Dark Man noted casually.

"However, we keep our bargains when we can. I must say it's rather nice to finally see you in the flesh, Mr. MacDonald. I must confess I'm rather glad you escaped our rambling and crude friend, which I wouldn't have sent in the first place, and I was quite impressed that you managed an effective escape from the island. You are a courageous, resourceful, and most dangerous man, MacDonald."

"I appreciate the flattery, but it seems that fighting gallantly isn't enough to win the war. I'd rather be less impressive, get some breaks, and win."

"Breaks. Fate. Such silly words to avoid any act of faith, any compromise with materialistic principles. Scientists ignore what they can not explain away, or create new theories to explain away problems that are more difficult to believe than the supernatural. One theory now says that the universe was created spontaneously out of nothing, with no cause. Don't you find that a violation of rational science in the name of science? Don't you find that concept even more absurd to the rational mind than the idea of a creator's will? George Orwell once saw a ghost and described it in great detail, yet he dismissed it in the end as some sort of hallucination because, in spite of the scientific evidence of his own eyes and experience, it violated his world view. He could not accept it. Neither, really, can Maria, here—or you."

"Spare me the lectures, eh?" MacDonald snapped. "What comes next?"

"Next? The most vital part comes next, and it is up to Angelique. She must return to us, willingly, with a vow to submit to her destiny."

"I
will never do that!"

"Oh, really? Now, consider your position, my dear. You are coming, willingly or not. You know that. But if you come willingly, and submit to us, I will not use this exquisite piece of precision weaponry on Mr. MacDonald." The Dark Man moved closer to them, so close that MacDonald would be within reach of that pistol with one quick move. He didn't think—he just acted, and nothing happened. He was stuck to the bed, his muscles simply not obedient to his commands no matter how hard he tried. After a moment, he gave up, resigned to it.

"Go ahead and kill me," he invited the Dark Man. "I'm not exactly thrilled at the prospect, but it sure won't get you what you want out of her."

"No!" Maria almost screamed. "He's mine! You promised me!"

"Shut up, Maria. I said we delivered when we could. Do not make me angry. You have seen what I can do if I am angry."

Maria calmed down, but continued to stare menacingly at the Dark Man.

"Now, then," the mysterious one continued, "what makes you think I would ever kill you?

These tiny little cartridges pack a mean wallop. If I fire one exactly so, into a particular area at the base of your spine, you will be permanently and totally paralyzed below the waist."

Angelique stiffened as if shot.
"No! You can't!"

"That will be where the first shot goes, but it will not, I assure you, be fatal. We will see to that.

Then we will ask Angelique again, and if she still refuses, the second shot will be
here,
in a particular area of the upper spinal column. Then you will be as Angelique was, with no hope of ever regaining any movement or even feeling."

Angelique was sobbing now.
"No, no, no!"

"You can't do that! You
promised
me!" Maria screamed at him.

The Dark Man turned and made a gesture in Maria's direction, and she was rudely slammed up against the wall by some invisible force and held there. "I promised nothing of the sort," he told her. "I promised that you could have him after we were finished our business with Angelique. I said nothing about what condition he would be in. You're used to handling such cases. You'd have him all to yourself and he couldn't get away if he wanted to. I also promised I wouldn't kill him, and I won't. But, after the second shot, I will ask again. If the answer is still no, then there will be a third and final shot here, at an exact angle into the brain. He will be alive, and conscious, and all of his autonomic functions will remain, but he will be unable, ever, to move or take any other voluntary action. Ever. You know what that means for him, don't you, Angelique?"

"You monster!"
she screamed at him, and struggled to move against him, but, like MacDonald, she found that she could not. The fury and hatred building up in her was enormous.

"Then, of course, we will go, and achieve our goals by other, longer, and more difficult means,"

the Dark Man concluded. "You must believe that I will do what I have said I will do, Angelique."

"You
bastard!"
Maria screamed at him, struggling to free herself. "May you rot in Hell forever!"

"Why,
this
is Hell," responded the Dark Man calmly, "nor am I out of it. I weary of you. I was willing to give you what we could, but I think now that you will always have unreasonable demands. I promised you your youth until you die, and I will not take the craven out and kill you now to keep that vow the easy way. The rewards can be great if you understand your place, but if you do not then Satan will look to the fine print. In your ego you thought that he would fall into your arms if she were removed. You may have your crack at him, should he be worth having when we finish this business, but we can not trust you and have no more need of you. We leave you here—eternally young!"

Maria suddenly cried out, and changed before their eyes. The Dark Man had kept the letter his word, but only exactly. Maria now shrank and shimmered, and when it was done she was the cutest pre-pubescent ten or eleven year old girl anyone had ever seen.

"Now remain that way until death," the Dark Man said coldly. "Sleep now—I am finished with you forever until your soul comes to me."

She sank to the floor, out cold.

The demonstration of sheer offhanded power both impressed and scared Mac Donald, who was frightened enough already.

The Dark Man checked his pistol, then went and stood in back of the helpless Greg. "Now, Angelique, the first stage. I ask you if you will come with me voluntarily, with your vow that you will not resist the future. Leave attempts to stop us to others. They are impressively organized.

They
might
yet pull it off. Tell me now, or I fire the first shot. After that, it is irrevocable to that point. You know you're going back anyway. What's the point?"

Angelique felt shocked, confused, and upset. The Dark Man knew her own weak spots better than she. At this moment, she might even take that terrible fate, lying unmoving in that horrible hospital, but it was not she who was faced with this. Not she, but Greg.

She had just accused Maria of condemning millions for the sake of two or three, and she'd meant it, but this was not the same. Maria had betrayed them, when they had beaten even the Dark Man and were free and clear and about to foul up his terrible plans for good. She had elected to bring the Dark Man here. But now he was here, and what he said was true. She was going back, whether she wished or not, and she knew that one way or another he could break her.

He already had, to an extent.

"What will you do to him if I go now?" she asked, unaware that she was once again speaking nothing but a French-accented English.

MacDonald was startled, but found that he couldn't say a word. He had to be perfectly honest with himself. He still loved her, and he still hated the Dark Man and everything he stood for, but right now he voted for her to accept the offer. The Dark Man, however, didn't know that and wasn't taking any chances on him being noble to the end.

"If you go now, following all that I say, nothing. He will live, and I will place no curse upon him. I will leave him here, for us to perhaps meet, and contest, another day. He, too, is no longer relevant to us. He is relevant only to you."

"You won't kill him, then? Or do what you say anyway?"

"I will not. You have my word on that, and the devil is a gentleman in such bargains. He will remain, frozen, on this bed until we exit. Then he will be restored, free, with no restraints and no compulsions. I swear it. Only if he comes after me again will all bets be off. The next time, it will be on his head, not yours or mine."

"How do I know this is true? After what I have seen you do, how can I believe you on anything."

Believe him, believe him!
MacDonald thought, growing more and more nervous. He could feel the cold barrel of the pistol in his back occasionally as the Dark Man made his points.
Take the
deal, Angelique. I'll try and rescue you later!

"A fair question," the Dark Man admitted. "There is no real way to prove it. You can call on your spirits, but they won't come now. You can call on God and the angels, but they won't come, either. I can't really help you decide, but I can't think of a good clinching argument, either. You will have to make up your own mind, but I grow increasingly impatient. I believe that in one minute I will demonstrate my power.''

"No! Wait!" She needed time to think, and she wasn't being given any. This was all happening too quickly, too horribly. And then, all at once, she remembered the great, ancient angel who had communed with her.
You will be forced to make many choices,
it had said,
but the outcome, the
final choice, is not in your hands but in another's.
Might that other be Greg? She wondered about it. If the final choice, if whether or not they succeeded or failed, was out of her hands and in the hands of others, then she had no right to cripple him just to prove a point.