Laika and Tony got out and examined it. There was no lock, and it swung open easily enough. "It's been opened recently," Tony said. "See here, where the rust flaked off?"
They got back in the vehicle and drove through the gate. The road wound through more canyons, and then went uphill slightly. "Almost," said Swain. "Almost here. . . ."
At last the mission lay before them. They had come around a sharp corner of sandstone wall and saw it fifty yards ahead, up a slight incline. "That's it," Joseph said, with such awed certainty that Laika was sure it was the mission he had seen in his dream.
The building was not large, only forty feet wide. It appeared to be constructed of adobe from which the whitewash had long ago peeled. Despite the mission's small size, its facade was imposing. It was two stories high, and surmounted by an open hump of a bell tower whose bell had fled it long before. Two smaller humps stood on either side of the roof line. A second-story balcony with a wooden railing covered a dirt-floored portico, and a single door stood in the center of the front.
There were several acres of open space around the building, and arid patches of ground with rotted fence posts dividing them.
Someone had once tried to farm here, without much luck
, Laika thought.
Though no occupants were visible, they could see a large panel truck and a weathered Jeep parked nearby. "Looks like we beat the competition. And I don't think they're going to slip him out as easily this time," said Laika, "unless there's another way out of here down that canyon." She pointed to a narrow opening in the walls of sandstone to the right of the mission.
Then she turned to Joseph. "Is this what you saw in your dream?"
He nodded, and a wheezing laugh came from Ezekiel Swain. "Be damned. You got, too. We . . .
brothers
."
Laika could tell Joseph was disturbed when he didn't give Swain a flip reply.
She stopped the car. "Take your weapons," she said, "and let's hope we don't need them."
"Amen to that," said Tony. "I mean, there are probably priests in there."
Laika turned to Swain. "You stay here—you'll see the Divine soon."
Swain grinned, and fluid dripped onto his lap. "Goodie. Professional, armed force. You can, free him."
"We have to find him first," Laika said, opening her door.
The three operatives got out and listened, but heard nothing. Slowly they walked toward the building. They were only a few feet from the front door when it opened. They brought up their guns quickly, pointing them at the dark opening, but lowered the muzzles slightly as they saw two men dressed in black clerical garb come through the door, their empty hands clasped together in front of them in an attitude of prayer, beatific smiles on their faces.
"Greetings, sister, greetings, brothers," said one of the men. "Welcome to the Mission of San Pedro. Please, put down your weapons. You have no need of them here."
"I'm not so sure of that, Father," said Laika. "We're the good guys, but there are some bad ones coming. You may need some help to . . . protect your prisoner."
She was expecting a look of surprise, but didn't get it. The men just continued to smile. "That won't be necessary," one said.
"Look, Father, you don't understand—"
"No, my child—
you
don't understand. But perhaps if you look above, wisdom will come to you."
Laika looked up slowly. There on the balcony were half a dozen armed men wearing fatigues. They were holding cutting edge assault rifles whose muzzles were glaring down at Laika and her team.
She kept her eyes on the shooters, but raised her gun muzzle just enough to cover again the priests standing in the doorway. "I think the bad guys have arrived, after all," she said.
"That depends on your point of view." said the man. "We consider ourselves to be
very
good guys. The best, in fact. The ones truly sent by God."
"Be that as it may, I believe we're in a bit of a Mexican standoff here."
"How do you mean?"
"If the boys upstairs fire at us, we fire at you."
"That won't matter," said the man. "We'd like to take you alive, but if you won't put down your guns, we'll be happy to die for our cause, and our brothers upstairs know it. So either you drop them now, or you will be shot. Your killing us doesn't enter into it at all."
Laika had been in enough situations to recognize a bluff, but these men weren't bluffing. They could try to spray the armed men above, but their position was bad. She and Tony and Joseph would be cut down before they could even aim. They had nothing to lose by surrendering. If these people had wanted them dead, they'd have killed them already.
"All right," she said to the others, "set them down." She crouched and put her weapon on the ground. The others did the same.
"Ah, see," said the fake priest, taking off his robe to reveal fatigues beneath. He was the same man who had been in the front seat of the Buick at Spider Rock. David, Miriam's lover, was the man at his side. "You
have
learned wisdom. Of a sort. But the fear of the Lord is the beginning of
real
wisdom, to add a single word to the psalmist."
"Well," said Joseph, who had recovered his aplomb, "though you're not a man of the cloth, you sure talk the talk, Father Flotsky."
The man lost his smile. "My name is Commander John Bowman. And this is Captain David Richardson. And don't you dare criticize our faith or our God. Especially not you, Jew." Two more armed men came from inside the mission and handed rifles to the two impostors, then picked up the operatives' weapons. "Now, let's get your companion from inside the car," Bowman said, gesturing with the muzzle of his gun. "And tell him that we will cut him to pieces if he doesn't do as we say."
They walked to the car, and Laika opened the door for Ezekiel Swain. "We have to go with these men," she said.
"Is he a man or a demon?" asked Richardson, staring at Swain. Laika thought his question was serious. "He's been sick recently," Joseph said.
"Why is he tied up?" asked Bowman.
"He has a tendency to get violent," said Laika.
Swain got out of the car, his constantly weeping eyes looking at Bowman and Richardson from deep within the fleshy pouches that surrounded them. "Hiya. Godboys," he said. Before a reddening Bowman could reply, he added, "Where's Divine?"
"Yes, you'd be looking for Him, wouldn't you? Just the type the enemy would use." Bowman swung his rifle in the direction of the mission. "
Get moving
."
Bowman and Richardson took Swain and the operatives through the unimpressive sanctuary of the mission, in which nearly two dozen cadre members were gathered, and back into a warren of smaller rooms. A guard was standing outside a heavy wooden door, which he opened to reveal a rickety wooden stairway leading down.
At the bottom was a windowless cellar, empty except for some mounds of something under a canvas tarpaulin at the far end, and several burlap mattresses thrown on the floor. The burlap seemed to be stuffed with dried grass, and a white-haired priest was sitting on one of them, his legs stretched out in front of him on the dirt floor. A dank smell pervaded the low-ceilinged chamber.
"I hope you'll be quite comfortable here. It hasn't killed the old papist yet, anyway," said Bowman. "Of course,
Father
Alexander has only been here a few hours." The man made a mockery of the title.
"Papists, Jews," said Joseph. "Anybody you do like?"
"Those who serve the Lord," said Bowman, "and walk in his ways."
"Lets
me
out," said Swain, with a gurgle that made Bowman shudder. "Where's Divine?"
"Don't worry, he's quite safe. For now. We have all of you to thank for locating the enemy for us. You've done us a great service. Just one question, however. Where is Miriam Dominick? Captain Richardson is particularly anxious to know."
Tony spoke before Laika could. "She's dead. Your men killed her."
Richardson turned pale, and looked at Tony with wide eyes. "
Our men?
" said Bowman.
"The ones who tried to shoot us, run us off the road," Laika explained. "The ones Miriam Dominick set us up for. Only she came along with us. I guess that wasn't in the plan."
"You killed her," Richardson said to Tony. "You filthy papist, you found out who she was and you killed her!" He would have attacked Tony if Bowman had not held him back.
"No," Tony said bitterly, shaking his head. "We just had sex."
"
Captain!
" Bowman barked, as Richardson, trembling in fury, raised his weapon and pointed it at Tony. "You will lower that weapon. The orders were that these people were to be kept alive if they got here, and they did." Then he turned to Laika. "And where are 'our people' who tried to . . . delay you?"
"I wouldn't expect them anytime soon," said Laika coldly.
Bowman took Richardson by the arm and guided him back up the stairs, keeping an eye and his gun muzzle trained on the ops as he went. The heavy door at the top closed behind them, and they were alone with the old priest.
Father Alexander had gotten to his feet. He looked at Laika, Joseph, and Tony curiously, and at Ezekiel Swain with seeming dread. At last he spoke. "You're the ones, aren't you? The ones from the government?"
"Yes," Laika said. "The National Science Foundation. . . ."
She trailed off as the priest waved a hand and smiled knowingly. "No, no . . . not that branch of the government. I know, you see. I know that you've been looking for him, I know about New York, I know . . . more than I really care to." He shook his head. "We might have been able to reason with you, but with these people. I don't know. We've kept him safe all these centuries, but now fools have taken possession of him—yes, fools."
Laika wanted to keep him talking. "When did they arrive?"
He pressed his lips together as he struggled to control his emotions. "At dawn. They burst in here like commandos, like they were taking an armed fort. We weren't ready, we had no idea that anyone would determine his whereabouts so quickly. Three fine young men, good and brave priests, tried to stop them, but they shot them down." Father Alexander shuffled over to the covered shapes, crouched down, and drew back the tarpaulin.
Beneath it were three dead men lying on their backs. Their bodies, clad in black cassocks, were riddled with bullets. Even their faces had been shot away. "They had no weapons," the priest said. "But they shot them down anyway."
"They didn't try to kill you?" Laika said, wondering how Father Alexander had survived, and wondering if he had been planted by their enemies. They had proved quite adept at infiltration.
"No. I . . ." He pulled the tarpaulin back up over the dead men, as though he could not admit it in their presence. "I hid when I heard the gunfire. When they found me, they knew that I was no threat to them. I think I amused them." His voice choked at the memory of his cowardice. "I should have died with them," he said. "They'll kill me eventually. After they make me watch their triumph."
"Who are they anyway, Father?" Tony asked. "Cultists? Satanists?"
The priest looked at him oddly. "Satanists?
Unwittingly
guided by Satan, perhaps, but why would you think they were Satanists?"
"They referred to the prisoner as the enemy. How could you refer to such a person that way unless you were . . . on the other side?"
"My son," Father Alexander said gently, "who do you think this prisoner is?"
"Well—" Tony paused for a moment. "From all we've been able to gather . . . we thought he might be Christ, Father. Jesus himself."
The old priest's smile was filled with sympathy. It was the look of a father about to tell his growing son the truth about Santa Claus. "No, my son. It is not Christ who is the prisoner. It is quite the opposite."
J
oseph's jaw dropped as he remembered what the dying Scot, the last of the Knights Templar, had tried to tell them.
"McAndrews," he said. "Remember McAndrews's last words?"
Laika nodded, her face lined with thought. "Yes—
andra
, or
anda
. . . you thought it referred to Johann Andrea, a Rosicrucian connection."
"I was wrong. Now I know what he was trying to say. He was telling us who the prisoner was. He was warning us. Against the greatest enemy of all to the Christian faith. He wasn't saying 'andra,' he was trying to say something else. Isn't that right, Father?"