The Thieves of Darkness (57 page)

“And you’re worthy of making those decisions on behalf of the world?”

“I will be the teacher, I will be a resource for the curious about what lies beyond the shadows, beyond the hidden doors. It is time.”

“A twisted benevolent act? You’re so full of shit.”

“Do you know what this place is? Do you know what lies above us? It’s Shambhala, Michael. A convergence.”

“That’s a name ascribed to it by men. An ideal, a Buddhist myth.”

“Which you deny even after seeing it, even after standing in it.”

“Enough.” Michael waved the rifle at Venue, motioning him to walk out of the room. “You’re the last person to try to convince me of anything.”

“Call it what you will.”

Venue laid down Jabad’s book and walked through the room, past the piles of gold, and out into the main cavern. Michael followed right behind him, the gun aimed squarely at the man’s back.

“You’ve seen the wealth here—”

“Which you were planning to steal—”

“I don’t deny that, but what good is wealth, what good is all this knowledge and power if you’re dead.” Venue paused. “You still don’t see it, do you?”

Michael looked at Venue as they walked through the main cavern toward the only exit.

“You did not see those that live here, those that visit. They do not age. And with all of this knowledge, all these years of philosophical debate, they have yet to share any of it with the world. From upon this mountain one could rule the world.”

Michael broke out in a huge smile. “Do you hear yourself?”

They arrived at and stood before the rocky stairs that rose out of the cavern.

“You sent KC to die, you son of a bitch, you sent her to prison to be
executed, knowing she was your daughter. A man like you isn’t fit to rule even himself. Get your ass to the door,” Michael said, waving his gun at Venue.

Venue remained motionless. “If you’re going to kill me, I suggest you do it now,” Venue said. “Because if you don’t, I promise it will be a mistake you will regret for the rest of your short life.”

“You’re my passport, for lack of a better word, out of here.”

“Do you think there is anywhere you can go in this world where I can’t reach into your life and destroy it, destroy everything you care about?” Venue paused. Hate filled his eyes as he looked down at Michael. “Do you really think I’ll let KC live knowing how much you care for her?”

Michael smiled.

“Something humorous?”

“I said you were my ticket out of this temple; I never said anything about letting you live.”

Venue took a step onto the first stair but abruptly stopped.

“No more talking. I’ll shoot you where you stand.”

“That would not be a good idea,” a voice said from deep within the stairwell.

Michael instantly dove for cover, his gun raised in a two-handed grip, aiming at the dark-shrouded stairs.

“That would be an even worse idea,” the voice said. “You don’t want to hit KC, now, do you?”

Two rifles emerged from the darkened stairs, trained on Michael; the two guards approached, poised and ready to shoot, awaiting the order of their leader. Iblis came down the stairs behind them, KC at his side. He nodded at Venue as he passed.

Iblis’s face was devoid of emotion as he pulled KC by the shoulder toward Michael.

KC and Michael locked eyes, pain-filled and heavy with regret.

The two guards approached Michael and tore the gun from his hand. They spun him around, zip-tied his wrists together, and shoved him back to the room of gold and books as everyone followed.

“You came back for him?” Venue looked at KC and shook his head in disappointment. “For what, something romantic like love? What a waste.” Venue turned his attention back to Michael. “I told you, you should have killed me when you had the chance.”

And with a sudden burst of violence, Venue drove his foot into Michael’s back, kicking him to the ground. “Now, who do we kill first and who’s the lucky one that gets to watch?”

Busch carried Cindy into the room where the monks stood. The group parted and guided him to a prayer mat where he laid her down. The blood was everywhere, coming from the wound in her stomach, the shirt around her fingers. Her breathing was shallow, her skin beyond pale as the life seeped away.

Busch looked about the room and turned to Kunchen, who stood in the doorway holding the rifle.

“Where’s your friend?” Busch asked.

“He went with one of the monks.”

“What?”

“They said they had to go downstairs…”

Busch never heard the last of his words as he took off at a full tilt out of the room, running down the hall. He made it to the mandala vestibule and charged down the stairs, coming out in a dark foyer to find a tall monk. His skin was deep brown and weathered; he wore a simple blue robe, and as he grasped a heinously evil-looking door, pushing it closed. Sonam stood there confused as Busch charged into the room and grabbed the man, fiercely pulling him back.

“We must close this,” the man said in broken English. His voice was calm but firm.

“My friends are down there,” Busch growled, ready to kill.

“You don’t understand.” The man stared at Busch with fear in his eyes. “There are things down there.”

“I don’t care what’s down there, monsters, murderers, or boogey-men, you’re not closing this door. Now, get back upstairs,” Busch yelled, raising his rifle, pointing at the monk’s head. “Before I shoot your ass.”

Michael sat on the floor, his back against the wall, under the lone torch that lit the piles of gold and stacks of books. His hands were trussed behind his back, as he constantly struggled to free himself. Venue, Iblis, and KC stood staring at one another.

“I don’t have time to deal with you,” Venue said to KC in a dismissive tone. “You’re as stupid as your mother; you could have lived, but you came back. For that?” Venue pointed to Michael on the ground.

“My mother was far from stupid; she hated you.”

“I know.” Venue smiled coldly. “Do you know why?”

KC remained silent.

“She hated me because of what I was, a criminal; she couldn’t handle the fact that she loved me in spite of that. She was so worried about the influence I would have on you. Ironic, isn’t it?”

KC closed her eyes, hoping to block out his words.

“What do you suppose your mother would think of what you’ve become, darling?”

“She never loved you,” KC said painfully.

“Parents rarely speak to their children of their own hearts, of what they truly feel.”

“She wanted nothing to do with you.”

“Actually, your mother chose me, pursued me. You can’t handle that.
Her mind was fragile, KC. I never really loved her; how could I? She was just a great fuck, that’s where you came from. You were just a by-product of a drunken tumble in the hay. Did she ever tell you that?”

KC’s eyes filled with pain.

“I figured as much. Hell, I only married her after I went to prison. And only then for conjugal visits.”

“You’re a despicable human being,” KC finally exploded. “I’m ashamed that your blood flows in my veins.”

Venue’s words came slow and angry. “I’d be happy to remedy that.”

“Thank God she thought you were dead.”

“Actually, she was one of the few people to figure out I was still alive. Your mother found out I escaped from prison behind the ruse of death, substituting another body in place of mine. She knew I was alive, she saw my picture, somehow she recognized me, came to me for money, told me she would expose me if I didn’t pay her. So I paid her a visit.” Venue paused, taking a moment to build up her fear. “She didn’t jump off that building, KC, I threw her. But before I did, before she sailed seventy-five feet to her death, I told her the one thing that I hoped would scare her even after death. I told her someday I would kill her daughters, our daughters.” Venue paused, taking pleasure in his story. “Then, after she died, I thought of something better. What if I were to turn you into what she hated most? The irony of that would be just too good. I hope she knows that you turned out to be everything she loathed, that you turned out to be a criminal just like me.”

KC’s eyes filled with tears of rage. This man, this thing before her, had killed her mother, taken everything from them. He had created her. Everything about her life was the result of Venue’s actions: the loss of her mother, the loss of her childhood, the loss of her sister. And just as Michael was about to right her world, he was about to take it all away again.

Venue walked to Iblis and took his pistol from his shoulder holster. He raised the gun and pointed it at KC’s head.

“You’ve taken everything else from me,” KC shouted in challenge. “Take my life.”

“Goddammit,” Michael screamed. “Leave her alone!”

Venue stood there a moment, his mind spinning. And then he smiled. He turned the gun on Michael. “I haven’t taken everything from you, KC … yet.”

KC stepped in front of Michael. “Don’t you dare,” KC screamed. “This is between us.”

“Exactly. You thought to rob me of my desires; I’ll rob you of yours.”

Iblis stood next to Venue, watching the battle of wills, his eyes flitting between KC and Venue.

“KC. No!” Michael yelled, struggling against his bonds, kicking and writhing on the floor. “You son of a bitch, you can’t kill your own daughter.”

“You don’t think I would shoot my own daughter? You’re mistaken.”

Venue aimed the gun at KC’s heart and pulled the trigger.

Iblis dove at Venue as the report of the gun exploded, echoing and amplified by the cavern.

KC’s eyes went wide as Iblis snatched the gun from Venue’s hands, tossing it into the darkness of the cavern … and collapsed. And as Iblis hit the ground, the blood began to blossom on his shirt.

To everyone’s shock—Michael’s, KC’s, Venue’s—Iblis had taken the bullet meant for KC.

Venue stared down at his partner, his underling, his personal assassin, his confusion finally erupting in a laugh.

Iblis stared up at him with his pale, hate-filled eyes.

“You fell in love with her,” Venue said as he leaned forward. “Didn’t you? When I sent you to teach her all those years ago, when you trained her…” Venue couldn’t help laughing, but then his humor dissipated as a thought washed through his eyes. “It was you who tipped off the Vatican; that’s how St. Pierre knew where she was, how she escaped from prison.”

Iblis remained silent as he stared up at Venue.

“You love her … You truly are insane if you think someone like
her could ever love you,” Venue taunted, “that anyone could ever love someone like you.”

KC stared at Iblis, backing up as he cast his dying eyes toward her. She slowly fell to her knees, their eyes fixed on each other. The shock of Iblis’s feelings being verbalized as he lay dying numbed her. And as he stared at her, she finally leaned against Michael, the simple act of their touching conveying her love for him and the impossibility of her ever having feelings for Iblis.

“And you gave your life for her?” Venue continued. “Did you think that through? She’s still going to die.” Venue took a moment, watching as the life poured out of Iblis’s chest. “You’re going to die before I have a chance to punish you for this betrayal.”

Iblis’s two men stood there paralyzed as their leader lay dying, their eyes filled with confusion. They both suddenly raised their rifles at Venue.

“See this gold?” Venue said, looking back and forth between them. “Keep me alive, you get to keep Iblis’s portion.”

Both men’s loyalty was easily bought, their smiles reflecting their greed and agreement as they lowered their guns.

Venue looked about the cavern, his eyes finally falling on the bubbling pools just outside the door, and he smiled. “I have the perfect going-away gift.”

Venue picked up the golden chalice and walked out the door to the pool of superheated water and clay. He dipped the goblet in, careful to hold only the bejeweled stem, and filled the goblet to the rim.

“Fitting where we are. Before you die,” Venue walked back in and stood over Iblis, holding the chalice high. “I baptize you in the name of darkness, in the name of pain, for that is all you will know for eternity.”

And Venue poured the boiling muck upon Iblis’s face. It hit the left side, sizzling upon contact with his perfect skin, steaming, oozing down, the gray muck coating the side of his face, the smell of boiling flesh filling the air.

Iblis’s eyes widened in a silent scream as he writhed upon the ground, his hands clawing at his melting flesh.

“Let your last moments of life be pure agony.”

And then, with a sudden sharp jolt, Iblis stiffened and fell motionless.

Venue turned to Michael and KC, who lay against the wall under the lone torch, its wash of flame the only thing lighting the carnage and wealth in the room.

“No more screwing around,” Venue said as he turned back to the guards and pointed at Michael and KC. “Kill them both now.”

I
N ALL THE
confusion of Iblis’s being shot, no one saw Michael pull the lighter from his back pocket, Silviu’s lighter, a ninety-nine-cent Bic that Michael now held in his restrained hands behind his back. Nor did anyone notice the thin gray strip of sailcloth that blended with the earthen wall and ran straight up to the torch above their heads.

Michael flicked the Bic behind his back and leaned back against the wall.

The small flame hit the base of the makeshift fuse and instantly raced up the strip of cloth, up the wall, up the shaft of the torch, and with a loud crack the head of the torch exploded, extinguishing the flame in the same way Red Adair used to put out oil fires.

The room fell into total darkness, a pitch-black shroud that covered everyone, leaving them disoriented and shocked.

Michael had cut the strip of the sail, poured the gunpowder from twelve bullets along its length, and twisted it up, making a fuse. He had sealed it with dabs of pitch from the torches and used it to affix the makeshift fuse to the wall and the torch. He ran it along the shaft, terminating it at the small charge made from six bullets just below the torch flame.