The Stolen Gospels (19 page)

Chapter 21

There are several signs of demonic possession. One is to speak in a strange tongue, a language that is not of the person’s experience.

—
The Rites of Exorcism
, a Roman Catholic handbook

Midnight . . .

Fear washed through Lori as she slipped down the stone staircase, just behind five shadowy figures: Alex Jackson, Yonney Zakheim, Mila Bennett, and two men whose names Lori couldn’t recall, each of them dressed in dark clothing. The group moved with urgent purpose, and Lori felt instilled with the feeling that she had to do this, no matter the danger. Wearing only a thin black blouse and jeans, she shivered.

At the bottom they slid furtively along a wall, not walking boldly through the corridor. The two women carried pistols, while the four men had automatic rifles.

Overhead, electric lamps flickered on and off, casting eerie shadows. The wall of the passageway was moist against her arm, and bore the odor of mildew tinged with a chemical, perhaps something that had been sprayed on it to kill the growth. Somewhere she heard rainwater running through ancient gutters, a familiar sound to her now.

Glancing back, she thought she saw movement in the shadows behind them, and whispered a warning to Alex, just ahead of her. He passed the information forward, and Mila called them to a halt.

“What did you see?” Mila whispered, moving close to Lori.

“I’m not sure. Maybe it was a trick of my eyes, or of the light. I thought I should mention it.”

“You did the right thing.”

In her pocket, Lori closed her fingers around a small handgun. Glancing back, she didn’t see anything now, and neither did her companions. Cautiously, they continued forward.

* * *

“We’re almost there,” Alex whispered to Lori. He hoped that it wasn’t a mistake to bring her on this important mission. In these catacombs, ghostly shadows and unexplained sounds had a way of playing tricks with the mind. Some people said the spirits of the dead haunted the remote mountain, the revenant forms of monks who had dwelled here in centuries past. Over the years there had been numerous sightings and strange noises that people tittered and whispered about, but always with a nervous edge, as if they weren’t quite certain.

Normally Alex and his companions might have taken the rail car for a short distance, but they couldn’t risk it this time, because of the chance of discovery. The operation had to go smoothly, on a tight schedule. They had to coordinate with other people coming from different directions, converging on the exact same spot.

Ahead of him, Mila picked up the pace, while Alex thought back to earlier in the evening, when he had met with the others, including Lori Vale, the newest member of their clandestine group. . . .

* * *

“Tell me again what she said to you,” Yonney Zakheim had said. The paunchy, bespectacled man had been leaning across the rectangular table in his own studio apartment, glaring at Liz Torrence, a computer programmer who was the niece of a councilwoman. She’d been sitting next to Alex in an apartment that was a windowless room, used in centuries past by cenobite monks.

A slender young woman with the long, elegant fingers of a piano player and green eyes, Torrence had responded, “But I’ve already told you. Jen said she wasn’t feeling well, that she was going to consult with one of the musers.”

“Those old men?” Zakheim had said. “What do they know?”

“She thinks the monks know things, ancient healing methods. They do trace back to the original inhabitants of this monastery.”

“And no one here has seen any sign of her since?” Zakheim had then asked, looking around at everyone except Lori, who didn’t even know Jennifer Aldrich. “Doesn’t it bother any of you that she knows our complete plan and no one knows exactly where she is? What if she turned us in to Alex’s mother?”

“What if Alex is a spy for his mother himself?” Liz Torrence said. “What if, what if? If we worry about everything, nothing will change around here. The children will never be rescued from those crazy women.”

Others had been seated with them at the table: their leader Mila Bennett, strangely silent; Dan Rhodes, a muscular laborer; Siana Harui, daughter of another councilwoman; and Christine Brickowski, whose older sister was one of the Scriptorium scholars working on the
Holy Women’s Bible
.

“At least Jen doesn’t know when we plan to make our move,” Siana Harui said. She had short black hair, and a small bone structure like her mother. “We’re deciding on that right now.”

“She knows enough,” Zakheim said. “She knows all of our names, and what we intend to do. It doesn’t ring right. Why isn’t Jen here?”

Torrence heaved a deep sigh. “You worry too much.”

“I don’t like it. I just don’t like it.”

“Jen did look feverish, and her face was sweaty.”

“I hope it wasn’t nervous guilt,” Zakheim said.

“You’re always so paranoid,” Torrence snapped. “Every one of us is sick of it.”

“So you’re all against me, is that it?” His eyes feral, Zakheim looked from face to face.

“No one’s against you,” Bennett said. She placed a reassuring hand on the doctor’s arm. With the man’s coat off, Alex saw the shoulder holster he wore, and the composite pearl handle of a pistol. Nearby, a black automatic rifle leaned against the wall. The other men, including Alex, had similar weapons, and every woman—including Lori—concealed a pistol in her purse. All of the guns were constructed of new ceramics and plastics, and could be folded into innocuous shapes, making them undetectable by surveillance equipment.

“I say we make our move tonight,” Bennett said. “If we delay, it only increases our chances of being discovered.”

They had split into two groups, approaching the target from different directions. . . .

* * *

Thinking back on the meeting, it troubled Alex that no one had located their dark-haired companion Jennifer Aldrich, that she wasn’t participating in the operation. A rail car maintenance employee, Jen was in a key position to cause serious disruption to the Monte Konos transportation systems, and had successfully sabotaged the rail lines twice without being caught.

Now Alex and his companions hid in the shadows of the corridor beneath the Scriptorium Building. Through a high-arched doorway, a guard station was visible to them in a pool of illumination, and beyond that, the bullet-proof glass doors of the living quarters of the she-apostles.

Alex glanced around nervously. A little ahead of schedule, they had several minutes to wait for the next guard shift to take over, the women they had paid off. A short distance down the corridor, on the other side of the guard station, he saw movement along the wall, and a light that blinked once. The rest of the rescue team.

“Everyone is ready,” Mila Bennett said in a subdued voice, remaining in the shadows.

Lori moved closer to Alex. “I’m not afraid,” she whispered.

“I know that. You’re tougher than I am.” He checked the clip on his automatic rifle, snapped it back into place.

“It would be nice if we could just give the children back to their families,” Lori said, “and forget about having any so-called experts look them over and prod their minds.”

“It’s a complicated matter,” Alex said. “These kids are from all over the world, and we need to turn them over to the appropriate authorities first.”

“I suppose so,” Lori whispered. But she wasn’t even sure if she agreed what she had just said, about what to do with the children. Morally it seemed wrong to keep the children away from their families any longer than necessary, but what if they really were reincarnated apostles of Jesus? The thought frightened and exhilarated her. She had to admit that she had felt a visceral connection to Veronica, and even, for some odd reason, to Dixie Lou herself.

“We’re rescuing them,” Alex said. “The UWW kidnapped them, and we’re reversing it.”

“I should be mad at you for tricking me,” she said. “For playing the fool—and playing me for a fool.”

“Are you? Mad, I mean?”

Her eyes danced across the shadows of his face, only inches from hers. “I haven’t decided.”

Focusing on the guard station beyond him, Lori watched the arrival of four women in pale gold uniforms. They were talking with the other guards. Alex looked at his watch. “Five minutes to shift change,” he said.

She noted increased nervousness around her.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he said, “I fooled a lot of other people, too, including my mother.” Lori felt the warmth of his breath against her face.

Following a moment’s hesitation, she asked, “How did you deceive your clever mother?”

He smiled, but warily, alert to his surroundings. “So many questions, so little time.” Again, he glanced at his watch.

Moments later, the guards changed shift. At a signal from Mila, the two groups of rescuers joined forces, and they removed child carrier backpacks from a large sack, strapping them onto their backs.

Lori ran forward with the others. They opened the heavy glass doors and hurried inside.

* * *

Lori stood in what appeared to be a lounge, furnished with black leather couches and chairs. On a wide wall ahead of her were eleven closed doors, each with the name of a female apostle written in golden script over it, the same ornate lettering style she had seen on the Scriptorium computer.

One of the doors was designated “Apostle Veronica,” and on each side of that were inscribed the names of the others, Mary Magdalene, Abigail, Sarah, Lydia, Kezia, Hannah, Esther, Rhoda, Priscilla, and Candace. A twelfth door was unmarked.

Pursuant to the plan, Lori’s companions opened the doors and began loading children onto the backpack carriers. A toddler with black hair whimpered softly as she was lifted into place on Yonney’s back. Lori saw her kicking and waving her chubby little arms, heard her protests increase in volume. Some of the other children began to fuss as well. They were a variety of races and combinations of races.

Lori’s assignment was to protect the escape route, remaining near the entrance. At a counter on the right a white-uniformed attendant dozed in her chair, her head drifting toward the counter top and then bouncing back every few seconds. She snored, made intermittent snorts. Even the commotion of the children failed to waken her.

Yonney Zakheim disconnected her videophone, used the receiver to smash the plastic connector, so that the phone could not be used.

Now the woman sat straight up, her eyes open wide and filled with terror. Around fifty, she had a bun of gray hair and a high forehead. “What’s going on here?” she demanded.

“We’re taking the children,” Zakheim said, identifying himself as a doctor.

“I need to call for approval,” the attendant said. She lifted the videophone receiver, but he put his hand on hers.

“It doesn’t work,” he said. He was larger than she was, and stronger. Taking her firmly by the arm, he led her to a storeroom and locked her inside.

When all of the rescuers were gathered, with children on their backs and in their arms, Lori scanned the young faces, searching for Veronica, the one she had been with in the Scriptorium. To her surprise she didn’t see her, though she counted all eleven children. A sinking feeling set in.

She met Alex’s startled gaze. He had noticed the same thing.

“These aren’t the real she-apostles!” he shouted.

“Are you sure?” Mila asked.

Alarms sounded.

“It’s a trap!” Lori yelled.

“Leave the kids here!” Mila commanded. “Everyone outside, fast!”

As the would-be rescuers emerged into the corridor, their guns drawn, the guards attacked, firing automatic weapons. More guards appeared from hiding places.