The Tower (53 page)

It was the Hubble control technician from Goddard. It was Merriweather.

Liv saw Gabriel appear at the edge of the light and walk towards her. She thought it must be some kind of hallucination brought on by hormones or pheromones or endorphins or any combination of the three.

She felt the weight of the baby as it was placed on her chest and she looked down at it – this tiny, perfect being. She had never really believed in love at first sight but in that first moment she saw her baby she loved it more than she had ever loved anything in her life. She would die for it right now if she had to.

She looked back up, expecting the vision of Gabriel to have gone but he was still there, solid and real. He too had tears in his eyes and he was looking down at her and the baby.

Liv smiled and wept all at once, holding the baby’s velvety head close to her mouth. ‘It’s your daddy,’ she whispered. ‘He came back.’

Then she saw movement, directly behind Gabriel.

Merriweather stepped into the blaze of light and beheld the bizarre nativity: the woman on the bed, holding the false prophet in her arms – the un-doer of everything, the Antichrist.

He stepped forward, unbuttoning his tunic and letting it fall to the floor, no longer Merriweather, now revealed as his true self – the
Novus Sancti.
He opened his arms to form the cross with his body, revealing the ritualized cuts in his flesh, and the packs of explosives strapped to his chest. In one hand he held a gun, in the other, a wire connected to the explosives.

Now he could complete his transformation and become the instrument of mankind’s delivery, the first martyr of the reborn church, ending this Satanic rebellion before it had even begun.

Gabriel saw the fear in Liv’s eyes and turned to see what had put it there.

He saw the bomb, the outstretched arms, the ritual cuts of a Sanctus.

His instinct was to just hurl himself forward and knock him away from Liv and the baby. But the Sanctus was too far back. Gabriel would be shot before he covered the distance. But he was also too far away from Liv and the baby and he could see by the look in his eyes that they were his target. He would move closer, to try and close the gap between himself and everyone else to make sure the bomb blast was effective. That was when Gabriel would do it.

Then someone stepped into view, and the Sanctus reacted, spinning round to point the gun at the newcomer. The gunshot was like thunder. The man fell back, thrown by the impact of the bullet. Gabriel threw himself at the Sanctus, hitting him hard and sending them both to the floor. He pinned his gun hand down beneath the weight of his body and grabbed for the hand holding the wire, digging his thumb hard into the wrist tendons, seeking the pressure point that would weaken the man’s grip. In a detached part of his mind he remembered his grandfather doing something similar to save him and his mother from a grenade. He had smothered the blast with his body, giving his life in exchange for theirs, and now he must do the same.

The Sanctus roared in pain as the thumb dug deeper. He tried to twist away and brought his arm down hard on the top of Gabriel’s head. Once, twice the elbow driving the full force of the blow into his skull.

Gabriel held on, weathering the blows as best he could, unable to raise an arm to protect himself. He had to keep hold of the Sanctus, if he let go then they were all lost. The blows continued to rain down and the jarring movement of them caused Gabriel’s hand to slip. The Sanctus pulled his wrist free and the button fell from his numbed hand.

Gabriel kicked hard with his legs, digging into the earth and pushing them both a few inches further from the bed and the precious people on it.

He reached for the hand again but the Sanctus had twisted it away far enough to keep it out of reach. The hand found the button and Gabriel kicked again to try and jar it free or gain a few more precious inches.

But it was not enough.

He saw the hand close around the button and he shut his eyes, bracing himself, hoping the ground and his own body would absorb enough of the blast to protect Liv and his child.

Shepherd came through the canvas screens on the opposite side to where the others had entered. The rider who had greeted them was lying on the floor, a gunshot wound bleeding in his chest. Hevva was by the bed, her eyes fixed on the violent struggle taking place on the floor. He stepped forward. Saw the hate burning in Merriweather’s face, saw the bomb, the newborn baby, the mattress out of place, even the light on the stand burning like the sun had burned from the poster – all of it so familiar from Hogan’s Alley and the other dark basement.

He raised the small gun he had taken from the woman and aimed it at Merriweather’s head, trying to put all that had happened before from his mind.

The bullets are real
– he told himself –
and so is the bomb.

And Hevva is standing right by it.

His finger tightened on the trigger but Merriweather jerked away, swinging his other hand round. Shepherd saw the gun in it, saw it angle down towards the man he was struggling with. He took a step forward, not caring about getting shot, only about narrowing the gap and improving the accuracy of this tiny gun he had never fired.

The explosion was so loud Gabriel thought he must be dead. Even so he still clung on. He felt that if he could brace himself against death, even for an extra few microseconds, it might make a difference to the living.

So much flashed though his mind in that moment, fragments of the life he was about to lose. He saw the baby he had barely glimpsed growing into a – what? He didn’t even know if he had a son or a daughter and he would die not knowing. He would have liked to have known his child and spent his life with Liv by his side. But this was not such a bad death, if his death meant life for them.

Then the echo of the gunshot rang away into the night.

And Gabriel opened his eyes.

Shepherd sat on the edge of the water, tossing in stones. They sank beneath the surface, leaving no ripples, a tiny marker of the new universal order.

After everything Kinderman had said about the new age of peace, killing Merriweather had seemed like a particularly obscene and revolting act. He knew it had been unavoidable, but still …

He had drifted through the aftermath of the shooting on auto-pilot, clearing the area as if it was just a normal crime scene and backup was on its way. But he was on his own out here and he felt the sadness settle on him like his darkest depressions had done in the past. But there was one bright shaft of light shining through it all. Hevva was OK. He had saved his daughter.

Once the bomb was made safe he had called Franklin, old habits dying hard, and told him everything, using his partner like an old-time priest who might hear his confession and forgive him his sins. And when Franklin hung up, promising to call back with more news, he felt like he was all talked out and empty. He had handed on the baton of responsibility. He was free.

He stared out across the pool, the mirror of its surface reflecting the night sky. The night was cold, but he didn’t mind. He had taken his jacket off and draped it over Hevva when she had curled up and fallen asleep in his lap. He sat like this for a long time, just holding her until the phone buzzed again and he answered it quickly so as not to wake her.

‘It’s Franklin. I’m standing in Merriweather’s apartment looking at plans of Marshall, fake IDs, and a whole directory of names that includes our good friend Fulton Cooper. Seems Merriweather was something of an archiver – you should see the collection of old 45s he’s got here – he recorded everything, you couldn’t ask for a more smoking gun. There’s also some kind of shrine in his basement, like an altar or something with a big T-shaped cross hanging on the wall – it’s a proper fanatic’s home-from-home.’

Shepherd nodded but said nothing.

‘Listen, Shepherd, if you want me to arrange transport back, I can do that. Just tell me where you are and I’ll set the wheels in motion.’

Shepherd looked up at the sky. ‘I think I’ll stay here a while,’ he said, watching Hubble twinkling like a new star. ‘It is Christmas after all. Isn’t that when you spend time with family?’

‘I didn’t know you had a family.’

Shepherd felt Hevva stir in his arms, her head nuzzling him as she slept. ‘Neither did I. You should go home too, Ben – spend some time with your family.’

‘I will, just as soon as I’ve arrested the guy behind the explosion at Marshall that nearly got us killed.’

Shepherd frowned. ‘Not Merriweather?’

‘No. He couldn’t possibly have got there before we did and set all that up in time.’

‘Who then?’

Chief Ellery looked up from his desk as the door opened and a man wearing a black suit came in. He didn’t recognize him, but he knew the Sheriff who walked in with him, a kid called Rogers, someone he’d known from back when he was still in uniform.

The suit showed him his FBI credentials, read the charges then Sheriff Rogers stepped forward to read him his rights, looking slightly embarrassed about the whole thing. Ellery looked up at the photograph of his younger self. He’d never really wanted to quit being a cop, but the Church had wanted to keep a close eye on NASA, maintaining its long tradition of suspicion regarding science in general and astronomers in particular.

Sheriff Rogers finished Mirandizing him and stepped forward, reaching for the cuffs on his belt clip.

‘You don’t need to do that, son,’ Ellery said, rising from his chair. ‘I’m too old to make a run for it or try anything stupid.’ He turned to the agent. ‘I’m surprised Agent Franklin didn’t come here to do this himself. I imagine he would have enjoyed it.’

The agent shot him a cold smile. ‘Agent Franklin’s got bigger fish to fry.’

Franklin pulled up outside the large Colonial-style house, took a breath then got out of the car. He waited for the two-man arrest team to join him on the porch before knocking loudly and smoothing his hand down over his tie. He smiled at the surprised-looking woman who answered the door and turned down the offer of coffee as he walked across the hallway to where a news station could be heard playing behind a door.

He rapped once out of courtesy then pushed the door wide without waiting for an answer.

Assistant Director O’Halloran looked up from the TV. Franklin saw surprise flash across his face, but he recovered quickly. ‘I was expecting your report, Agent Franklin, not a house call.’

‘A draft version of my report has already been filed, sir. I sent it to Assistant Director Murray.’

The surprise returned but this time it stayed. ‘Might I ask why?’

‘Murray took over the covert running of Operation Fish, sir – after you tried to shut it down. It was felt that your reasons for ending the investigation into highly placed and potentially influential Christians were not entirely robust.’ O’Halloran glanced past Franklin and saw the two uniformed officers waiting in the hall. ‘I can tell you what’s in the report if you like, though I’m sure you know how most of it goes – foot soldiers recruited and run by the Reverend Fulton Cooper through the Church of Christ’s Salvation to fight the good fight against so-called “heretical scientific exploration” and the rising tide of ungodliness, Chief Ellery at Marshall keeping his eye on James Webb, Merriweather over at Goddard doing the same for Hubble – all of them controlled centrally by a well-placed puppet-master inside the FBI, feeding them information and their mission orders for the greater good of the mother church you all serve.’

‘I assume your report contains proof?’

Franklin nodded. ‘Merriweather kept exceptionally detailed records – I guess it’s the risk you run if you start doing business with paranoid conspiracy theorists. I have all the evidence I need of the “How?” – the only thing I don’t have is the “Why?”’

O’Halloran steepled his fingers in front of him so it looked like he was praying but said nothing. Franklin nodded at the arrest team and they moved out of the hallway and into the den. He stayed by the door, ready to move if he had too, remembering how it had gone down with Cooper but O’Halloran just sat there, staring ahead while they read him his rights. When they had finished he looked up at Franklin. ‘If you want to know the “why?”’ he said, ‘just look at what’s happening in the world. A judgement is coming where all shall be held to account. I answer to His law above all others. I am ready to face my Lord, Agent Franklin – are you?’

Franklin stared into his face, hardly recognizing the man before him now that the weird light had crept into his eyes. ‘I believe in people, sir. If you spend as much time on the streets as I have, it’s hard not to. I used to believe in you, too, but when you chose to partner me up with a rookie on a case as important as this, even someone with Shepherd’s science background, I started having my doubts. It was as if you were setting out to hamper the investigation and limit its chances of success. But in the end, sir, that’s where you made your biggest mistake. You underestimated the power of people – and you picked the wrong rookie.’

Dawn rose over the compound, lighting up the dew on the grass and the unfurling petals of waking flowers and fresh blossom that dripped between the green leaves of the trees.

Two figures emerged from the main building and moved through the morning mist that had drifted across the ground from the central fountain of water. They walked in silence, though the way they were together told their story: he, with his arm round her waist; she, leaning against him, her arms forming a natural cradle for the bundle of a sleeping baby.

They headed up the incline, bare feet leaving tracks in the wet grass that swept up the hill to the graves. The smell of loam and earth rose from the mound of freshly dug dirt where the one who called himself
Novus Sancti
lay buried next to those he had called his enemy.

The two figures moved higher to a spot where the grass covered an older grave, now fuzzed with green, a slab of granite at its centre.

‘Here he is,’ the woman said, resting her head on the man’s chest. ‘I put the Starmap here because I wanted to mark it out in some way. I thought it was something you would do, if you’d been here.’