Freedom Does Matter (Mercenaries Book 2) (47 page)

“Yeah. I can’t believe I can go in and convert him to reality after all these years. But I want to try. Once more, for the Gipper. Isn’t that what they say?”

“Some say that. Most of them in South Bend, I suspect. How long do you want?”

“Let’s talk about that. If I go in…”

They decided to allow Beckie ten minutes before Ian entered, accompanied by Elena. At least at first, Beckie and Ian would act as if they were strangers. Kevin would back them up, coming in if needed. She dropped Alisha’s gun on the table and told Ian she planned to take it with her. She left the bullets; it would be a weapon only if thrown.

They drove by the church in Olathe to confirm Billy was not in residence before finding the interstate and driving to Kansas City. Morning rush hour traffic had thinned by the time they started off and no accidents marred the commute this Tuesday morning; they made good time. Kevin parked the car as a church bell rang eleven.

Beckie walked away from the car, reciting the Pledge of Allegiance, testing the radio Elena and Kevin had woven into her pony tail. “I doubt he’s gonna say anything useful,” she’d said. “It’s so you guys know what’s happening.” Ian’s thumb went up and she turned toward the entry.

The car door slammed behind her. When she turned to look back, Ian held up a finger before pointing to Kevin.

Okay, she thought. Kevin walked away from the car. She skipped back to stand beside the car.

“A garage entrance might be open,” Ian said.

Beckie nodded and smoothed her skirt again. Bright in the morning sun, she relished the colors.

After a couple of minutes, she heard Ian’s radio: “Okay, this has to be the car. Be right back.”

Ian nodded to her. “Be careful.”

She smiled in agreement and walked toward the front of the building. Inside, she shivered briefly in the air-conditioning, then approached the receptionist. The gentleman took her name, gave her a pass and pointed her to the elevator she’d used the night before.

She pushed the button for Ten and waited as the car rose.

Today, the ornate entrance to the church’s offices stood open, welcoming any who chose the path, Beckie supposed. She walked through anyway, and stopped inside.

Larger than expected, the room fulfilled the promise of the entry. A deep pile rug comforted her weary feet; the design worked in was an idealized version of the Creation. In the front. Further back the woven scene merged perfectly with the mural on the wall, depicting the crucifixion. A door had been set where the center cross had been painted. Billy’s office, I’ll bet.

“Door was wide open,” Beckie whispered. “Wait till you see this. It’s right out of a first grader’s illustrated Bible.”

To her right, a chair stood beside a table with a lamp. The setting was mirrored to her left, although the table to the left held a two foot tall ceramic vase. Or, recalling an art class, maybe it’s an amphora. Light came from the ceiling. Beckie didn’t worry about it beyond noticing that the single lamp was off.

A disembodied voice filled the room. “Yes, young lady? What… How may we help you?”

I guess my outfit worked. Sounds like a hall monitor asking for my pass. “I was hoping I could see… the Reverend… Reverend Billy.”

“He doesn’t usually speak with…” Beckie loved the possible implications of the man’s lengthy pause. Finally, he spoke again. “What is your visit apropos of?”

“I want to talk about his granddaughter, Sarah, and one of her friends.”

A clatter, quickly hushed, followed by silence.

Beckie wandered a few steps on the thick rug, looking at the art in the rug and mural. As she studied the crucifixion scene, the door opened and Reverend Billy stood there.

She recognized him from the photo on the church’s web site. That image, however, was a poor representation of the man. A tall, conditioned figure, he wore black trousers and a white shirt with clerical collar; while tanned, there was no mistaking the fact the man was Caucasian through and through.

Beckie was a little surprised; Billy’s smile spread across his face in welcome.

“Good morning. What do you want to discuss involving Sarah?” He stepped aside and waved her in. “Please come in. Take a seat,” he said as he followed her in.

“Thank you, Reverend. And thank you for agreeing to see me without an appointment.”

“Pfaugh! Appointments.” He made what could have been a rude gesture, but funnily, Beckie didn’t feel offended. “Highly overrated.” He chuckled as he sat down. He spread his hands, palms up. “But now you’re here, what shall we discuss?”

Let’s get moving; I’ve only got five minutes left. “Sarah. Alisha Rashid. The direction in which you have directed your church and as a result, the policies of the state of Kansas. Where you don’t even live.”

Billy sat back, but he wasn’t taken aback. “I suspicioned this as a possible subject when you mentioned Sarah. How did you meet her?”

“I met both yesterday. I must say, your granddaughter is quite a diplomat. Very persuasive. We laughed that it might be your influence, as effective as you are.”

“Neatly done, Miss… I must have missed your name.”

Beckie fingered the badge she’d been given. “I apologize. I expected the information to precede me. I am Beckie Sverdupe.”

“And what school are you enrolled in?”

“University of Miami, in the College of Engineering. Well thought of, and close to my… employer.”

Beckie enjoyed the look of surprise on Billy’s face as he processed her statement. He was silent for several seconds. “I had no idea.” His eyes went up and down her body. “Really.”

She shrugged. “Classes start in a couple of days, but… Not important.” She leaned forward and placed her hands on the table. “What
is
important… How can I convince you your beliefs about abortion are… I won’t say wrong, but… lacking any compassion, any flexibility—”

“I have no flexibility when the theft of life is concerned! I must follow the Bible, the Word of the Lord, my God. All life must be protected. This will be a short audience if you do not accept this.”

“I don’t accept a book written by men—some as recently as ten years ago—can purport to be written by God. And,” she said as Billy began to blow up in indignation, “I’m sure that if you can find a verse making that claim, I can find a contrary one.” But…” She stared him back into his chair. “That’s not the discussion I want to have.” She turned on her chair, crossed her legs. She glanced down and smoothed her skirt again. Okay, maybe… She reached for the little clutch in which she’d put her passport, phone and driver’s license and importantly, the small revolver Alisha had given her. She undid the clasp but held it closed. “You said ‘all life must be protected,’ right?” He nodded. “I agree with that, maybe that’ll be sufficient common ground.” Billy relaxed and he smiled again.

Beckie enumerated several flexibilities that could make abortion available in cases of great need without allowing it to become a popular contraceptive mechanism.

Billy did not argue; he simply said “No.” He clasped his hands as if praying. “I recognize your intelligence, though you have been bamboozled by the agents of sin and corruption. College does that, I understand—”

“Except for Liberty, I suppose.” While Beckie intended to speak her comment, she hadn’t intended it to be heard.

“Umm?” When she didn’t respond, he continued, “Truly, I cannot understand how you can claim to honor all life while suggesting that the death of a fetus can have any justification.”

“What about capital punishment?” she asked, more as a delaying tactic than an argument, but it brought him up short. Watching him, she opened her bag and pulled Alisha’s gun from it. She brought it above the table and tossed it to the surface where it skittered along before falling off the other side. Billy’s surprise when she showed the pistol become a flash of fear until she released it, then he showed amusement as it fell, clattering on the tile floor.

“What about a woman who is so revolted, horrified, that she bought that…” Beckie waved at the gun. “… and planned to use it on herself if an abortion was not available? What life do you protect? How would you justify any decision?”

Billy’s mouth fell open, his eyes open and staring at her. “I cannot believe… This must be a lie! Or… No sane woman would want to terminate a child’s life. A beautiful thing—”

“I agree, Reverend. The child created by two parents in loving partnership is beautiful. This woman is not in that relationship. Her partner is unknown, forcing his sperm on her not in loving embrace, but in violence! How can she ever disassociate the child with her conception?”

A speaker near the desk announced, “Ian Jamse.” The mechanical voice was so soft Beckie would have missed it if she hadn’t just stopped to breathe. So he did know my name.

“My time’s up. Anyway, the answer’s bright in your eyes. You can’t accept that a person might disagree with you. Your answer’s always right because you know what’s best. For everyone. Your God gave you the keys!” She stood. As she began to walk around to collect Alisha’s gun, she heard a rap on the door.

She bent over to pick up the gun, at the same time watching the door open. A hand seized her upper arm, firm enough to hurt. Shit, she thought, not again.

The take-down worked last night. Maybe with a modification? She splayed her hand on the floor next to the gun, then using Billy’s grip on her arm, she dropped her head and landed on her back. “Ooof!” She kicked a foot up into his face. “Damn!”

She reached under her to remove the gun from her back, and looked up. Blood streamed from Billy’s nose and eyebrow. He was doing his best to mop it up with a handkerchief. Ian was standing, calm, watching.

“I’ll be going now,” Beckie snarled at Billy.

The man reacted quickly, stepping in front of her while keeping his distance. “No. The police will want to talk to you.”

She snorted as she stepped into his space. “I don’t know. How will you get around the fact that a little girl in a short skirt broke your nose and gashed your forehead?” She stepped back to allow Ian a chance to move in. “Don’t forget your prime directive: ‘All life must be protected.’”

Ian nodded to her. “I must say, Miss, very impressive. While the result is gratifying, your legs are a… a work of art!”

Beckie dropped her gaze. Even while irritating the target, making him nervous and keeping him off-balance, he makes me blush!

“What the Hell do you want?” Billy shouted. “How did you get in?”

“I walked through the door, of course. Do not act more foolish than you already appear. Your prime directive, as the young lady put it. Is she accurate?”

“Of course! Not that it has to do with you—”

“Does it have to do with poison gas and a soccer match at Wembley Stadium last week?”

Billy turned white and made unintelligible sounds. He walked from the table to his desk and fell into the chair.

“When did you discover your daughter and grandchildren were in attendance? Before? Or after? What about their lives? Not as important to protect?”

Billy hadn’t stopped his mutterings.

Ian shook his head and nodded to Beckie. “Call Kevin and tell him we’ll be down shortly.”

An audible “click” captured their attention. Behind the desk, Billy was dropping out of sight. Ian stared.

Beckie ran to see an open panel in the floor. “What else has this guy done, that he needs a James Bond escape hatch? Is a little boat going to fly out into the river?” She peered into the hole, but the light didn’t penetrate.

Ian chuckled as he tapped on his phone. “No, we are too far for that ploy to succeed. Kevin? Watch for the target. He should arrive downstairs shortly. Wait there for—

“Rebecca! Wait!”

Beckie dropped into the hole. With her bag in one hand, she grabbed her skirt tight to slide on. The bag she held up as a guard if the hole suddenly shrank. Her feet were in front. The tunnel was half-round, with her in the round portion. She felt the seams against her butt. Ian will be sooo mad! If I live.

I wish I had a light.

Chapter Forty-Four

Day Forty-seven - Kansas City

ALMOST AS SOON AS THE thought passed, Beckie wanted to take it back. Ahead of her, cold white light increased. She realized the downward slope turned, rotated as if a corkscrew, but it wasn’t as steep as it had seemed in the dark. Still, she slid down, ever down.

Suddenly, the ramp ended, launching her into a brightly lit room. “Ooof!” She landed on her butt, hard. Her head hit the cement floor; the shock and pain left her lying prone, still. Behind her, she heard a snorted laugh and froze.

“He said the girl would be cute.”

“Cute, and quick with her foot.”

Beckie hadn’t moved once she’d scraped to a stop, her skirt bunched at her hips.

Someone approached from behind. Something nudged her shoulder, first tentatively, then more forcefully. She rolled with the blow, trying to keep her muscles lax, as if she were unconscious. A hand investigated her leg. She opened one eye, and then, since the two men she saw were altogether entranced by her legs and underwear, she opened the other.