Victory of Coins (The Judas Chronicles, #7) (9 page)

There was no letter this time. It took my removing the tablet from the mailer and sliding the empty package to Roderick for him to believe Kaslow had skipped the customary paper correspondence this time.

“It’s like the bastard knew William wasn’t going to read it, and decided not to include it,” said Cedric to Roderick, who grimaced worriedly in response.

I turned on the iPad, thinking I would have to access the video using the main screen’s icon. Instead, the device accessed the video option on its own, and an instant later, my message was ready to play.

“Yes, that’s how the others were set up, too,” said Roderick. “He has hotwired them all, it seems.”

I pressed play.

At first, the foreground was void of anyone, and a desk that favored the older Byzantine design populated my view. The walls appeared to be ancient brick once covered by either paint or stucco that had peeled away in places. I assumed this place was underground, or at least sheltered from sunlight—either by time of day or lack of windows—since a single light bulb hung from a wire.

I heard moans from someplace to the right of the video screen’s view, and footsteps announced someone was approaching the camera from behind. By then I was already thirty seconds into the video, and admittedly hopeful that if Roderick’s pronouncement of a three-minute length was true, I would already be one-sixth through the experience.

A tall figure dressed in black stepped around the camera and leaned against the desk while grinning into the camera.

Viktor Kaslow.

Not surprising, his appearance matched the one in my vision in Corinth, Mississippi. As such, he was nowhere as huge in stature as he had become, after the crystal shard from the Tree of Life pierced his chest and made its home near the fiend’s loveless heart. Immortal by a quirky twist of fate... yet aren’t we all chosen that way—those of us forced to walk the earth until the end of time?

His steel blue eyes’ brilliance carried no warmth, and though he was the picture of stunning health as a young blonde man, his face, neck, and bare forearms were covered with deep scars from his initiation into the realm of the Colombian deity, Bochicha.

Made immortal by God Almighty, and later saved as a demon ruler, there was no other person throughout the world that I had ever feared more than this one. And, yet, now that he had single-handedly destroyed my last hope of earthly happiness, I couldn’t give a damn what he might do to me personally in the future.

“Well, hello, William,” he greeted me; his Russian accent more pronounced than it was in my Corinth vision in June. He paused to study me, as if he could see me in the living moment. “You look... rested.”

I wanted to toss the device across the room, taking what little solace I could of it shattering into a thousand pieces.

“Ahhhh, now you’re talking,” he said, and again it was as if we stood in the flesh across from each other, perhaps separated by only the thin membrane of glass that was the iPad’s touch-sensitive screen. “That’s the William Barrow I remember from decades ago! Such anger and rage—armed now with the so-called ‘righteous indignation’! How delightful—We can soon begin our little contest!”

“Why did you do it?”

Yes, I asked the question I had told myself not five minutes before that I would never broach with this shit-head. But I couldn’t help it... he had destroyed my life and I wanted to know why. Besides, it was obvious he could see and hear me, and I didn’t know if I would ever have this chance to ask again.

“For many reasons,” he said, after quietly deliberating his answer, while the moans in the background became plaintive cries for mercy.

The slurred words sound like an old man speaking Italian.... Is that Dr. Corillo I’m hearing?

“You had become so... so domesticated. Yes, that’s it. You were nothing more than a domesticated cat nowadays. Where in the past—our shared past that happened right after the Cold War, and you were CIA and I was KGB—you were a tiger to deal with. No one in my country wanted to deal with the American, William Barrow.”

“Do you really think killing my wife—and also killing two other innocent people, my friends Amy and Jeremy Golden Eagle—will get me to fight you now? Are you that much of an imbecile?”

Roderick and Cedric bristled at the other end of the table, but I didn’t care. I was empty, and I didn’t have a damned thing to lose—not in my present state of mind. Regardless of what I promised Roderick, I didn’t say I would be a pliable pussycat for Kaslow.

The Russian chuckled and shook his head, smiling warmly despite the deadness of his glare through the video screen.

“Yes, I do,” he replied, warmly, as if I had just complimented him on his wicked prowess. “I had to get your attention by removing all obstacles. And, William, I can remove the last two close friends you have on this planet if you don’t cooperate going forward. All I ask from you is your full commitment to a simple contest designed to determine who is the better man between you and me. Never mind that we are both immortal....”

He paused to gauge my reaction so far. I wanted to scream at him to go thoroughly screw himself. But I couldn’t do it—not when it would hurt Roderick or Cedric, since I had no doubt that Kaslow would carry out his threats against them.

“You seem more agreeable now... no?”

“Yes.”

It came out as a hoarse whisper, but it was effective enough.

“Very good.”

His smile widened to reveal a brilliant smile that no doubt was a product of the Almighty’s spirit residing in the man since our battle in the Alborz roughly five years ago. I hated him even more, and tried to think on what Roderick had told me, and the vision of my beloved son telling me how wonderful Heaven truly is.

“Hold on to those thoughts,” said Kaslow, his smooth accent and tone colder than before. “But even more so, make sure that you follow the trail of bloody crumbs I have left for you to follow. Your friend in Rome can get you up to date, and you have two days hence to speak with one of the experts on where to look first for the Damascus Coin. By the time you reach Rome, I will have decided between Dr. Anderson and Dr. Corillo, as to who should be alive to give you much of the same information I have gleaned from them both. Of course, I will already be on my way to the next stop, and you would do well to not waste this generous offer from me.”

He stood straight and leaned closer to the screen, and I could almost smell his odious aroma... the repulsive stench of pure vileness. Meanwhile, it looked like the shadow from an enormous bat-like creature fluttered against the wall behind him. One of his attendant demons, perhaps? The shadow disappeared and bloodcurdling human shrieks ripped through the air.

“Your friends can fill you in on the rest of the clues I’ve given,” said Kaslow, unperturbed by the horrible raucous going on near him. His voice became almost a whisper, and yet it surrounded me similar to how Roderick’s voice would do when he was upset about a matter. “Heed Roderick and Cedric’s sense of urgency, and make it your own.... Now I must leave or my dinner will get cold. Take care, Willie Boy!”

The screen went blank and the device turned off on its own.

“They’re all like that,” Cedric advised, when I whipped my head toward him and Roderick. Surely my dumbfounded expression was a familiar response they, too, had shared in response to Kaslow’s ‘messages’. “That’s why we’ve stacked ‘em up like that. We just wanted you to see the iPad carcasses first, so you’d know what we’re dealing with here.... Not a goddamned one of those mothers will power back on after viewing what Kaslow had to say to us.”

“I guess it’s obvious to you two what we need to do next,” I said. “And, I’ll bet everything’s already arranged... isn’t it, Rod?”

“I’ve already chartered a flight to Rome for seven o’clock tonight,” he confessed. “It’s one of the reasons I advised your sabbatical from the world had to end today, since I booked the plane this morning. Kaslow’s speech to you was merely an affirmation of what Cedric and I deduced was coming when the package was delivered just after sunrise.”

“So, are you ready to do this, William?” Cedric asked.

Did I have a choice?

Not really.... Not when the lead horse had already made it through the first turn and was now the definite front-runner in the race to attain my very last coin. Waiting any longer would most assuredly cost us a realistic chance at the prize that I now wanted as badly as Kaslow had hoped I would. Not to mention, more innocent lives hung in the balance, and more blood would surely spill if we fell any further behind.

––––––––

R
oderick and Cedric waited until our nine-hour flight to Rome was under way to bring me fully up to date on Kaslow’s most significant activities that I had willfully missed during the past two months. I should point out that this meant only the Russian’s known events, since the Vatican, Interpol, and all of the US intelligence agencies pulled into this endeavor by Roderick failed to determine Kaslow’s true whereabouts. No one could effectively track his progress, and there could be more bloodshed that lay hidden for future discovery. Without knowing exactly where the bastard kept his earthly stations, there was almost no point to expend the manpower to look for him. In effect, since only the three of us had received the mysterious series of digital tablets, we were left to sniff him out of hiding, while utilizing whatever resources Bennevento Vitorio could spare.

“We should arrive just after ten in the morning at Fiumicino, and Bennevento will have his driver waiting for us,” Roderick advised, once we were settled in our seats on the aircraft and had taken care of any personal distractions.

For me, that meant finalizing the last few details regarding Beatrice’s estate. I had delayed doing it more out of fear of closing the door on her presence in my life than simply making it harder on the trustees who would administer the final charitable payments from her trust fund to the Good Shepherd Nursing Home, where she was once a resident. But she would always be with me in my heart, and I understood that now. In fact, I spoke of this very thing in my final email correspondence to her bank, along with sending the required documents I had stonewalled them about—delivered via the Cessna’s Wi-Fi system less than five minutes earlier.

“You mentioned that we would be staying with Bennevento, but that he no longer resides in his fortified villa,” I said, pausing to accept the Scotch on the rocks provided by the plane’s lone flight attendant. I waited for her to return to her station, while Cedric’s admiring eyes followed her departure from our immediate area. “When did he move?”

“Last week, in fact,” said Roderick, nudging Cedric to bring his attention back to our conversation. The pair exchanged playful smirks that I could’ve related to not so long ago. Such dalliances had waned for me when Beatrice began to recover from the aging process, and then died altogether when we reaffirmed our longstanding devotion to each other. I seriously doubted I would ever again be the playboy that Cedric has always been, and that Roderick would infrequently indulge in, though with discretion. “Viktor Kaslow finally paid a visit to Bennevento’s home as he had long threatened to do. If Bennevento hadn’t been away on business in Paris with his family, we would be in a much deeper world of shit as far as knowing where to go next.”

“Ahhh... so that is why we are only staying with him one night, eh?”

“Yes, it will just be the one night,” he said. “Just long enough to gather everything we can from our Italian friend, and then I fear we will be on our own from there on out—despite Bennevento’s assurances otherwise.”

“How so?” I asked, suddenly confused as to why we would bother going to Rome if the only thing we would get out of this visit was some useful tips and documents that could’ve just as easily been scanned in an email.

“Can you honestly blame him, William? Kaslow is a murdering machine at this point, without mercy. Three of Bennevento’s house servants were butchered savagely, and two others are gone—which makes six that have disappeared without a trace from his employment since he betrayed Kaslow’s trust by helping us early last year,” said Roderick. “Bennevento may not be the most admirable immortal we’ve ever dealt with in the Vatican, but he has repeatedly stuck his neck out for us during the past few years. He has active enemies now among those who have walked the earth for centuries—adversaries who were merely unfriendly acquaintances before we dragged him into helping us with Kaslow, and then sidestepping Kaslow’s plans to intercept us when we were pursuing Ratibor.”

“What do the others care about Kaslow?” I retorted. “He is but a newcomer to the party—that’s how everyone we know should see him.”

“On the contrary, William, they are furious with all of us who have ever had commerce with Kaslow—despite any unwillingness in those interactions on our part,” he said. “Kaslow could potentially accomplish what only Krontos dreamed of doing, and that is rule the world completely, without a peer. And, while the fallout of such an event would mostly affect normal humankind, at some point even immortals would fall under Kaslow’s rule. So, any of us who have had the unfortunate pleasure of being on a first name basis with this monster are culpable.”

“I’m just glad it’s the white guys among immortals who are getting blamed for this shit!” Cedric teased, lighting up a panatela.

“You’ve had ‘commerce’ with Kaslow, too, you know,” I jested back, after waiting for him to blow his first stream of smoke. “You’re up to your neck in the same shit, man.... And, just remember that I’m not completely ‘white’, being born as a genuine Hebrew in Judea and all.”

It was good to share a laugh, and even Roderick chuckled a little.

“What about you, Rod?” Cedric swiveled his chair to face Roderick directly. “Are you gonna try to wiggle out of being a Caucasian, too?”

More laughter.

“Actually, I’m not a white guy anymore,” he said, smiling wryly. “At certain times of year, some might consider me ‘bluish’ or ‘opaque’ since porcelain-colored skin isn’t considered a race... at least I don’t feel treated like one yet.”