White Heat (29 page)

Rachel knew she wasn't going to find out by cowering in her room. According to an alarm clock on the nightstand, she waited an hour, maybe longer. Then, when she found the hall dark and empty, she slipped out.

I
t wasn't going to be as difficult to get in as Nate had thought. The fence was high, was topped with razor wire and appeared to go at least a foot deep into the ground. But it was regular chain-link, and there were only two guards on duty, both of whom sat in the station most of the time and rarely walked the perimeter. If he came upon Paradise from the opposite side, over by the mountains, he'd place himself behind the Enlightenment Hall and out of sight of those guards. He'd also be close to where he wanted to end up. All he had to do was cut the fence along the ground, slide beneath it, bend it straight and throw a little dirt to hide where it'd been cut.

Supposedly, Ethan had weapons, which meant that Nate risked more than getting his ass kicked again. Although he'd been sorely tempted, he hadn't brought his gun. He figured he'd have a better chance of convincing them he was simply a vengeful husband bent on getting his wife back if he wasn't armed. Then, if he did get caught, it might not blow the whole operation.

But he didn't plan on getting caught. This time he wasn't here to put on a show. He wanted to talk privately with Rachel, make sure she was okay, find out what she'd learned so far and decide how he could best support her—but mostly, he just wanted to see her.

Making a wide arc, he stopped to take a look at Paradise through the night-vision goggles he'd brought in his backpack. Two dogs trotted back and forth in a cage not far from the Enlightenment Hall. He'd seen them when he was here before but had forgotten about them. Although he was far enough away that they didn't seem to notice or care about him, that wouldn't be the case as he got closer, and he couldn't have them barking and making a fuss.

While checking for other problems, he decided to change his point of entry. He'd come through the fence by the garden area. There were no dogs there. That meant he'd pass through the largest number of tents but he'd soon reach the cheese factory, which should be deserted at this hour. Most people were going to bed. If he acted as though he belonged, maybe anyone he met would assume he was one of the guards. Many of them wore camouflage, too.

If that didn't work, he'd have to start acting belligerent again.

Stretching his sore jaw, he winced at the thought of playing it that way.

After gathering the items he'd need, he hid the rest of his gear behind some boulders and hiked down. He was pretty sure his clothing was thick enough to protect him when he slid under the fence. But he'd have to shed his jacket once he got through. No one wore a jacket in the middle of a night as warm as this one, and he couldn't afford to stand out.

How he'd get into the building once he breached the perimeter, he had no idea. He was hoping it wasn't locked. It probably wasn't. They lived behind a tall
fence patrolled by armed guards. Why would it be necessary to lock the doors?

If the place
was
locked, he'd just have to break in.

He could do that.

Maybe…

The ground was as hard next to the fence as elsewhere in the desert. Silently cursing the rocks jabbing into his knees as he knelt, he used wire cutters to create the opening. Then he bent the fence and slid underneath on his back so he wouldn't get snared on a piece of sharp wire.

Once he'd made it through, he saw that the damage to the fence was more obvious than he'd expected. He considered repairing it, at least superficially, but the fact that it was nearly eleven o'clock and most people were in their tents satisfied him that it was safe to wait.

He bent the fence back as far as he could, donned the ball cap he carried in his pocket and took off his jacket and gloves.

Movement and voices from inside the tents reached Nate's ears as he passed. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible, he put his head down and moved with purpose, and no one seemed to notice him—until he rounded the corner of the cheese factory and started across the open courtyard. Then he encountered a man and a woman, holding hands as they strolled. He attempted to walk right past them, but the man stopped and caught his arm. “Hey, do we know you?”

 

The Enlightenment Hall was completely empty. Rachel had already tiptoed through the kitchen, which had been cleaned and abandoned for the night, plus the room where they'd performed her baptism and initia
tion, the conference/dining room and Ethan's office, all without running into a soul. Now she was back on the second story, standing in a suite of rooms that could only be Ethan's private chambers. The scent of his cologne was stronger here, and one of his robes had been tossed over a chair.

Hesitating near the door, she listened to make sure no one was coming. Then she shored up her nerve and moved farther into the suite, which consisted of three bedrooms and two baths. The first bedroom, obviously Ethan's, was the grandest. The second looked lived in, as well, but she wasn't positive it was Bart's room until she spotted his blue jalabiya in the closet.

Ethan kept his head of security very close, closer than she would've expected. But maybe he was paranoid. Maybe he'd done enough horrible stuff that he
should
be paranoid….

Beneath the various garments Bartholomew owned was a guitar. She hadn't thought of him as someone who'd be interested in music.

There were other surprises, as well. The boxes stacked on the shelves above the clothes rail contained photo albums from when Bartholomew was a child. Although Rachel was curious and wanted to look through them—she couldn't imagine Bartholomew ever being a child—she didn't dare take the time, not when he and Ethan could return at any moment.

She shoved the albums back where they belonged and poked her head into Bart's bathroom, but there wasn't even a washcloth to suggest he'd used it recently. If this was his bedroom, why didn't he use the bathroom?

“Interesting arrangement,” she murmured, and visited the third room, which was obviously unoccupied.

Once she had an overview of the suite and knew for sure that it was empty, Ethan's room became her main focus. She went through his closet and drawers and quickly found drug paraphernalia—a pipe and what appeared to be a dime bag of meth. She wished she could turn him in for possession, but that wouldn't put him out of circulation for very long. She had to come up with something bigger.

The entrance to Ethan's bathroom was right next to his dresser. It had elegant washbasins, marble floors and a gigantic shower made of clear glass. It was unusually large, almost as big as his bedroom, but the bathroom drawers held the same toiletries found in most bathrooms.

Then it occurred to her—there were
two
toothbrushes in the holder.

She fingered the bristles. They were both wet.

I was wondering when you were coming to bed….

Ethan's words had sounded a bit like one married partner speaking to another, but she'd shrugged them off. Bart was Ethan's bodyguard. Of course they'd stay close. But…those toothbrushes made her wonder just
how
close.

“Hiding a few more secrets than I expected?” she breathed. If Ethan was gay, it would be quite ironic that he led a church that followed most other Judeo-Christian religions in condemning homosexuality.

A noise caused Rachel to freeze. She'd put Ethan's meth in the pocket of her robe. Having discovered
some
evidence of wrongdoing, she was reluctant to give it up, even though it wasn't the kind of evidence she needed.
But now she wished she'd left it. She didn't want to be caught in his bathroom with his drugs. They proved she'd been snooping and made it impossible to use the excuse that she was merely seeking him out so they could talk about her conversion or her situation with her husband or whatever.

Listening for the sound she'd heard a moment earlier, she tiptoed through the bedroom and peeked into the hall. The noise wasn't repeated, but she was fairly sure someone else was in the house. Had Ethan returned? Was he on his way to bed?

A creak broke the silence, coming from the stairs, but it was too dark to see anyone. Should she return the dope or get the hell out?

The second creak convinced her. Someone was climbing the stairs. If she didn't get out, she'd be trapped.

Swallowing hard, she moved as quietly as possible into the hall. Snippets of her conversation with Nate played in her mind as her heart rate spiked. She didn't want to be Ethan's next target.
Help me make it. Please help me make it,
she prayed.

She breathed more easily once she got to her room. Whatever she'd heard must've been a product of her imagination, reinforced by nerves, because as far as she could tell she was still alone. At least, she
thought
she was alone—until she closed the door. Then someone grabbed her from behind and clapped a hand over her mouth.

 

Bart was surprised to find their housekeeper, Maxine Maynard, waiting for him at the door to the pit. They'd held no public rituals tonight. They'd had a private
meeting for the Guides alone. So why hadn't she left at ten, as usual? What was she doing here at nearly two in the morning?

“Holy One!” An expression of relief swept over her face the second she spotted Ethan in the crowd coming up the metal staircase, but Bart quickly intercepted her. Ethan wasn't in his right mind. He wouldn't be able to respond coherently. If they had a problem on their hands, Bart didn't even want him to know about it. When he was like this, there was no telling how he might react, how difficult it might be to get him to go to bed and leave the important decisions to Bart.

“Is anything wrong, Sister?” he asked, steering her off to one side.

Obviously disappointed that he hadn't given her an opportunity to address her beloved leader, she frowned. “I saw something that troubled me.”

“What's that?”

She seemed reluctant at first. Bart didn't have Ethan's charisma, his way with people, and they often showed their preference for Ethan. But Bart had a better mind, made better decisions. Slowly, the Covenanters seemed to be accepting the duality of leadership. And Maxine served as proof. As soon as she started talking, she lost her initial reluctance.

“At first I thought she was just restless or that she was looking for Ethan, but…the way she went through the place…I know she was snooping around.”

Fortunately, Brother Titherington had engaged Ethan on the landing just inside the metal door.

The Guides were laughing, probably at a joke that had to do with the punishment they'd just dealt out to Martha. Ethan had framed this evening's activities as an
exorcism. He said the devil had taken possession of her soul and caused her to act as she had, which gave them license to be more violent than usual. It had been exceptionally impressive—until the drugs began to hamper Ethan's performance. When sober, he was magnificent. But he was sober less and less of the time. Bart wasn't sure what, if anything, he should do about that.

Hoping to prevent Ethan from noticing Maxine, he pulled her farther off to the side, between the racks of food. After the other Guides had filed past, he closed the pit door, keeping Ethan and Titherington inside, where they were still talking, but the dampness of the pit from which they'd emerged clung to his clothes, making the air in the storeroom musty and heavy. “You're not making sense,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Who's snooping?”

“The Vessel!”

“Rachel Mott?”

“Yes. I couldn't sleep so I wanted to do some knitting. But then I realized I'd forgotten my knitting bag. I was just returning to the Enlightenment Hall to grab it when I saw her slip into Ethan's office. I almost went to the guards. But…I was afraid the Holy One would be angry if I involved someone else. So I hid in the corridor, where I waited. And watched.”

“And?”

“She went through the drawers of his desk. I could hear them opening and closing. Then she came out and went upstairs and into the suite.”

“
My
suite? The Holy One's chambers?”

“Yes.”

“What was she doing in there?”

“I have no idea. I didn't dare go close enough to lis
ten. There's no alcove outside that door like there is near the office.”

He immediately thought of Ethan's drugs. What else would Rachel find in the bedroom? Evidence of their involvement? Maybe. But he didn't understand why she was even looking. What was she up to? Had he been right about her all along? He'd pressured C.J. to hack into Nate's computer but the man wasn't half as good as they'd assumed, or Nate's encryption was more complicated than most. “Is she still there?”

Someone pushed on the door from inside, but he didn't react. He had a few seconds before Titherington or Ethan realized it was blocked.

“Maybe. As soon as I saw her go in, I came here.”

Bart's blood ran cold. If someone like Maxine had a funny feeling about what was going on, he knew there was reason for concern.

“Hey!” Ethan called from inside. “Open the damn door.”

Shocked when he didn't immediately jump to obey this command, Maxine stared at him.

“The Holy One hasn't been sleeping well,” Bart explained. “I don't want him to hear about this tonight. It'll only upset him. We both know he'd want me to handle it, anyway.”

She nodded. “So should I go see if she's still up there? Confront her?”

“Bart? Did you leave me?” Ethan called. “Where are you? If this is a joke, it's not funny.”

“Hey!” Titherington joined Ethan in yelling. “Anybody there? Let us out!”

“I'll tell you what I want you to do.” Taking Maxine by the elbow, Bart drew her close so he could whisper
his instructions in her ear. Even though they hadn't been able to access Nate's damn computer, maybe there was another way to figure out exactly who the Motts were and what they were after. If he was clever enough, maybe he could do it without alerting Ethan or the two Guides who were too shit-faced to return to their tents and were planning to stay in the extra rooms on the third floor.