Empire of Dust (39 page)

A noise came from Ezekiel Swain like vomit striking cement. "Fat. Chance."

"So basically," Joseph said, "the church is endangering the world by keeping this insane whatever-the-hell-he-is accessible, in the eventual hopes of good PR, or maybe to use his power in its own interests? Is that the skinny here?"

"The church's interests," said Father Alexander, "are
good
."

"So are everybody's, Father," said Joseph. "Everybody's always got our best interests at heart, including, probably, the soldier boys out there now. Who are they, anyway?"

The priest had opened his mouth to answer when they heard a dull throbbing, like a huge heart beating all around them. "Helicopter," Tony muttered.

In another second, the door at the top of the cellar stairs opened, and Commander Bowman trotted down. "We'd like to invite you outside," he said. "There's something that you should see—the coming of the leader of a new Holy America."

"Well," said Joseph, "how could we possibly refuse an offer like that?"

"Not him, though," said Bowman, pointing at Swain. "He smells."

Swain, still bound, rolled his massive head on his shoulders and looked at Bowman. "
You
try, being dead."

The three operatives and Father Alexander followed Bowman to the top of the stairs, where they were joined by four armed men who kept their weapons trained on the little party. They were led through the mission and outside, where, on the patch of land that had once been farmed, the first of two helicopters was landing.

"Black," murmured Laika, shielding her eyes from the sun with her hands.

Joseph nodded. "Nice touch."

As the first helicopter touched down, they could see the second behind it. Beneath the second one, Laika saw a wide-wheeled motorcycle dangling from what looked like a thick cable. "Now I get it," Joseph said. "Remember our sunburnt hippie and his mother ship and baby ship? There they are. The bike's attached to the copter by a rod."

"You mean the cable?" asked Tony.

"Uh-uh, not a cable. That is a flexible rod, probably retractable, operated by hydraulics. Look—you can see the tanks next to it. They lowered the cycle by the rod, and the rod's rigidity stabilized it. No feet in the sand; it just dropped right down. Then the copter flew in tandem with the bike—skated across the sand, like that witness said—lifted it when it was done, and
presto
, no entrance or exit path. Sonofabitch rod is probably a hundred yards long or more, so that's why the sand wasn't disturbed. The copter didn't get close enough to the ground.

"Look," said Laika as the second copter came closer. "The tires have no tread."

"Wouldn't need to, with the copter providing the horsepower," Joseph said. "All the motorcycle was was a motorized pencil. My compliments to the chef. Very simple, very effective."

"And who the hell
is
the chef?" Tony asked, then glanced at Father Alexander. "Sorry, Father."

"No, my son, you're quite right. Who the hell, indeed? For whoever this man is, it is the Devil's own doing that brings him here to free his son."

They didn't have to wait any longer to find out. The door of the first helicopter opened, and a man holding a video camera stepped down from it. He aimed the camera back at the copter door and began to shoot the next man who came out. There was no doubt that this second man was the leader, for his bearing stated that he was used to being deferred to, and that was only a step away from being worshipped.

He was a few inches over six feet, and his carefully coiffed dark hair was gray at the temples. A moustache flecked with gray adorned his upper lip, and he was wearing a perfectly tailored set of fatigues, along with a red beret that Joseph suspected he wore because he thought it made him look dashing and jaunty, when he really looked like a militaristic French waiter.

But even out of the suits and ties the man always wore in public, they could not fail to recognize him. His picture had been in a thousand newspapers and TV news reports, as well as on all the covers of his bestselling book.

"Mr. Christian," Joseph said so softly that only Laika could hear. "Michael LaPierre himself, come to save the world for Jesus."

L
aika tried to put it all together. "The book," she said. "LaPierre's book—it was there on purpose."

"Right," said Joseph, "to keep us on the trail."

"But that means LaPierre had to be behind the code as well," said Tony. "And that means his people were in New York. . . ."

"It means that Michael LaPierre has been in on this every step of the way. Somehow he's been steering the ship," Laika said.

"And I bet it's heading right," said Joseph. "
Far
right. Or should that be far starboard?"

Bowman was talking to LaPierre now. Though Laika couldn't hear the words over the sound of the copter blades, she knew he was telling LaPierre about them, for LaPierre was looking over at them and smiling like a cat with a mouthful of canaries. Two big men with big weapons had gotten out of the copter with LaPierre, and continually flanked him as he moved.

The quartet of LaPierre, Bowman, and the bodyguards now came over to where the operatives and Father Alexander were standing. "Thank you all," LaPierre said to them.

"I didn't notice us applauding," Laika said, "though the entrance was dramatic."

"Sons and daughters of Ham," LaPierre said, shaking his head in mock dismay. "Always so
sassy
." Laika hadn't been called sassy since she was a little girl, and she couldn't ever remember being called a daughter of Ham.

"Of course," LaPierre went on, "I suppose working for this godless government brings out the worst in people. Be that as it may, I wasn't thanking you for any recognition per se, but for helping us achieve our most cherished goal."

"And that is?" Laika asked.

"Why, finding the enemy, of course . . . the Antichrist. So now at last we might destroy him."

"You got here first," Laika said.

"Oh yes, but we never would have, had it not been for you. We've been following you for a long time."

"Why?" Laika asked. "What got you started?"

"I'd be happy to tell you all about it, so that when you stand before the Lord you can tell him of the part you played in destroying the greatest enemy of Christ. Then perhaps he will weigh that in the balance and have mercy on your souls." LaPierre turned to the priest. "But for you, papist, there can be no mercy. The Church of Rome is a blasphemy, and you are condemned to hell, as are all those who accept its teachings."

"Like me?" said Tony tensely.

"Like you, Mr. Luciano."

Laika's eyes widened. "You know our names?"

"More than that." LaPierre turned to the four armed men Bowman had assigned. "Two of you, take the old man back to his prison. As for the others, come with me. We'll sit together, have a glass of water, and I'll tell you of your part in all this."

Bowman led them to a shaded area behind the mission building where canvas folding chairs had been set up, along with a table, glasses, and pitchers of water and ice. As they walked, Laika saw men in fatigues taking supplies from trucks that had appeared since they'd been taken to the cellar. LaPierre's men had probably hidden them up the canyon in anticipation of the agents' arrival. Several of the men were setting up a large tent, the type a Victorian general might have used while invading some third-world backwater. LaPierre did have style.

"The Goldfinger syndrome," Joseph said to Laika. She almost smiled.

"Something to share with the rest of us?" said LaPierre, who had overheard.

"Yeah," said Joseph. "Goldfinger, or Hugo Drax, or Doctor No, or Blofeld, or. . . ." He made a slight bow. "Michael LaPierre. It's a cliché. Asshole in charge tells back story to temporarily beaten heroes. But they always do it. They can't just kill them right off, they have to bore them to death first."

LaPierre wasn't smiling. "Would you rather die not knowing? I'd think it would be a comfort to go before the Lord in full knowledge of what good your acts have done, even if, Mr.
Stein
, your people have not accepted Christ as their personal savior."

"That's why they call us Jews."

LaPierre looked puzzled. "I don't understand."

"It's a Jewish thing. You wouldn't."

LaPierre gave what he must have thought was an appreciative chuckle for the jibes of a lesser being, then told them to sit down. "Humility is something I've struggled to attain for many years, often unsuccessfully. So I don't mind admitting to you and to the Lord that part of my telling you my story is born out of pride. I try to subdue it, and I trust the Lord will forgive me for slipping up one more time. Now. I have been told that you are responsible for the death of your fellow CIA agent Paul Daly. True?"

"Like we told Bowman," Laika said, "don't expect him anytime soon."

"That's a pity." LaPierre shook his head and took a sip of water. "One reason is that I have no doubt the man is in hell as we speak. I never got the impression he believed in anything, let alone Jesus. He worked for us for money, nothing more."

"You turned Daly?" Laika asked.

"It didn't take much. Money. Your government is cheap with the people whose loyalty they need. God has been so generous to me that I needn't make the same mistake. I wanted someone within the CIA the way I have others within other agencies, including your Vatican, Agent Luciano. It was from him that I first heard the stories of how the Church of Rome was sheltering the Antichrist. It's no wonder. They'd have used him for their own ends as they've always used any kind of power. The Antichrist, through the papist church, rules this world. But once the Antichrist is slain, then the true kingdom of the Lord will be at hand."

"That's nice," said Laika dryly. "But how did you get tipped off to the three of us?"

"Daly had been entrusted by your superior, Mr. Skye, with the knowledge of your activities. He was supposed to keep a watch on you."

"So Skye's never trusted us," Tony said bitterly.

"I don't know that," LaPierre said. "One of my very few areas of ignorance. From what Agent Daly said, I assumed it was not so much a case of not trusting you as of trusting Daly
more
, which goes to show what dreadful judges of character federal bureaucrats can be. But then, character has never been a requirement for civil service. That will change, too."

"So Daly told you about the Holberg affair," Laika said.

"Yes. We had been informed that seemingly paranormal occurrences might be indications that the Antichrist was in the vicinity. As evil as he is, he is still a miracle worker. So when Daly told us about the sculptor's disappearance and the destruction of his final sculpture, we began spying on the spies."

Laika nodded. "You put the bug in the warehouse where Holberg made the sculpture, and we reassembled it."

"Correct. And we also saved your lives in the subway station when those Satan worshippers tried to kill you.
And
it was us who you were shooting at in the vacant office building where the Antichrist was being held. We'd have had him then if it hadn't been for you."

"I doubt it," Laika said. "We tripped the alarm system and warned the priests. You'd have done the same. If we couldn't catch them, your people wouldn't have."

"Yes, but you didn't have Jesus on your side."

"I didn't notice Jesus and his pals being able to outshoot us." Then something occurred to Laika. "And is human sacrifice part of your religious services?"

"Ah, you mean that boy. Yes, that was a shame, but it was a contingency put into place in case the Antichrist escaped. You see, if that happened, we never intended to kill you. We needed you to find him for us again. We knew that he spoke to one of you, that one of you was a minion of his, whether he wished to be or not. Naturally, we suspected the Jew."

Joseph nodded in acknowledgment. "Naturally. The traditional minions of Satan."

"We have no such people in our organization, of course. If we did, then they would no longer
be
in our organization. We couldn't tolerate anyone akin to the Antichrist, whether by blood or by other . . . affiliations. So we had to keep you on the trail, and the best way of doing that was to plant our evidence that it was
Christ
that was being held by the papists. We knew that at least one of you," here he nodded at Tony, "would wish to free him. The young man who provided the book code was sacrificed for Jesus, and he lives now in eternal bliss in the presence of his Lord."