Mortal Lock (23 page)

The limo smoothly negotiated the streets of Chicago. Ariel recognized the route to O’Hare—her father was always flying in and out of town, and, sometimes, she got to go to the airport to meet him.

The limo pulled up to a motel court. The seediness of the place was no surprise—her special friend had explained that another car would meet them both later, and they’d go to someplace more appropriate.

The limo moved slowly, like a majestic ship through a dirty-water canal. It stopped at the door of Cabin 6. Ariel hopped out, her backpack in one hand, and knocked on the door.

“Come in,” she heard.

She turned the doorknob and walked inside.

“Sit over there,” Cross told her, pointing to a bed covered in plastic garbage bags. “And be quiet.”

7

“He was lying all the time?” Ariel said, an hour later, looking up from her laptop computer screen.

“Not about what he wanted to do with you,” Cross told her.

“I wasn’t going to do
that
! I was just …”

“Playing, yeah,” Cross said. “You were. He wasn’t.”

“He’s
really
a …?”

“Convicted child molester, yes. That’s him; that’s what he does. He even belongs to an organization that ‘loves’ little girls. Rhino, pull up their site for her.”

8

“I’m scared,” Ariel said. “I told him … stuff. Stuff about me. Maybe he told some of those other …”

“Don’t be afraid,” Princess told her. Ariel unconsciously moved closer to the hypermuscled man, her mind not registering that he was dressed in a gray sweatshirt and matching drawstring pants, with a black watch cap covering his shaven skull. Or that his face was scrubbed clean of makeup.

“You understand, there’s no more of this, right?” Cross told her. “You change your e-mail address, you stay out of chat rooms, you do all the stuff Rhino showed you how to do if you want to make friends online.…”

“And you won’t tell my father?”

“That’s our deal,” Cross said, reaching out his hand for the girl to shake. She finally noticed something unusual about the man—a bull’s-eye tattoo on the back on his right hand.

9

An hour later, Ariel turned to Cross. They were both sitting in the backseat of the heavy sedan that was taking her home. The man at the wheel was wearing the same dark watch cap as Princess had, but he was half the muscleman’s size. He piloted the big car expertly, sliding through the streets like a shark that had recently fed. It wasn’t hungry, but it still wouldn’t be a good idea to attract its attention.

“He’s going to …? He’s going to do this with other girls, isn’t he?”

“No.”

“How can you be so
sure
?”

“The FBI is on to him,” Cross said, his voice unchanged even when it moved from certain truth to outrageous lie. “He got the word, and took off for Cambodia. That’s why he wanted to meet you so near the airport. He’s running scared, now. He can’t come back here, not ever.”

“But on the computer—”

“No one’s ever going to hear from him again,” Cross told her. “The kind of technology he’d need for that hasn’t been invented yet.”

10

Ariel’s father pushed a button on what looked like a miniature version of a spaceship’s console. He noted that neither the caller ID nor the GPS locator seemed to be working properly. They were blinking and changing colors, but not providing any information. Before he could speak, a voice came through the console’s speaker.

“You know where to send the other half.”

“Yes, I know
where
to send it. What I don’t know is if it was earned.”

“What would prove it to you?”

“If Ariel isn’t—”

“She won’t be.”

“How do I know that? How do I know you even … identified the right person?”

“You want to be sure, we can send you his profile,” Cross said. “It’ll come FedEx, packed in dry ice. Billed to recipient—I’ll need your account number for that. Tell your secretary not to open any package from Mr. Green, just bring it in to you. And make sure you’re alone when you open it. Once you see what’s inside, you send the money.
Disposing
of what’s inside, that’s your problem.”

Five seconds of silence followed. Dead silence.

The girl’s father, finally realizing his only options were to speak or hang up, said, “That’s all right,” hastily. “I’ll take your word for it. Just wait a … 
There!
The money’s in your account, all right? There’s no further need to—”

“Not anymore, there isn’t,” Cross said, just before he severed the connection.

for Buddha

1

The priest had not been a young man for many years. Yet his face was serenely unlined, his chestnut hair still thick and full, and the set of his trim body radiated self-assurance. He strode toward the confessional with the measured gait of an experienced boxer making his way to the ring.

Still doing this
, a rueful bitterness misted his thoughts.
With all the time I have devoted to service, I should be … a monsignor, perhaps? The head of a diocese? Director of a prestigious parochial school? Instead, that endless series of transfers, each one a step down the ladder I should have been climbing. And now this dying parish in a neighborhood from which most of the true believers have fled. Yet there is no anger in me, for I accept that I am but an instrument of God’s will. I serve him, as I was chosen to serve
.

The priest could make out the vague outline of the person on the other side of the screen. His scanning skills, honed by decades of practice, instantly computed that the penitent was a white male with a prominent jaw, his head covered with one of those stupid watch caps, even though it was a sweltering August morning.

Not one of the old congregation stopping by
, the priest thought.
Not one of today’s regulars, either; too young. But this was no teenager—he was a grown man. And a stranger
.

The priest tuned out the ritualistic preconfessional words spoken by the man on the other side of the screen. He had a library of standard responses, cataloged by whatever sins were acknowledged. Forgiveness was his to dispense, and he was always generous with it. No matter what sin was confessed, forgiveness would never
be withheld.
Whatever this one has to say, it won’t be the first time I’ve heard it
.

“Father, I have violated the Sixth Commandment.”

“How did this come about, my son?”

“I entered a man’s home while he was asleep. I paralyzed him by jamming a nerve-juncture, then I blocked his air passages and locked him down until he was gone.”

“What would cause you to commit such an act?” the priest asked, more curious than shocked.

“Because that’s what I do.”

“I don’t understand. Are you saying that … that you have done this before?”

“Killed? Yes. Many times.”

“Is this something you feel compelled to do, my son?” the priest asked, genuine empathy embracing the timbre of his resonant voice. “Are there times when you—”

“I killed that man for money, Father. That’s what I do. That is my work.”

“You are … you are an assassin, then?”

“Yes. For a long time.”

“Then why seek forgiveness now?” the priest asked, wondering if he was listening to a demented man’s fantasy, or, Lord forbid, some foul little degenerate’s idea of a “prank.”

“It was time.”

“I understand,” the priest said, soothingly. “But something must have occurred for you to have decided this was the time to seek forgiveness.”

“It was time because it
took
time.”

The priest peered at the screen. Was it his imagination, or had the other man’s shape shifted? He seemed … not smaller, exactly, but more difficult to focus on.

“Perhaps if you told me …”

“Told you? Is God listening now, Father?”

“God is always listening, my son.”

“And always watching.”

“Of course.”

“So, when I tell you, it’s the same as if I was telling—?”

“Yes,” the priest interrupted, feeling the power inside himself grow as the man on the other side of the screen’s appearance faded. It had been many years since that feeling had raced through his blood, but he always knew it would come to him again. He had faith in the knowledge that the power he had been given could never die—it was a banked fire, awaiting its time to blaze anew. “Perhaps if you told me when this began?” he said, encouraging with both his will and his words.

The man on the other side was silent for thirty seconds. Again, his shape seemed to shift, but the priest realized this was just a light-and-shadow play—the truth never changes, no matter what the senses perceive.

“When I was a boy, a man made me do things. And he did things to me. He didn’t force me. I wasn’t beaten, or tied up, or even threatened. I was … what was that word you used before? ‘Compelled’? I think that’s right. I was compelled. The man was … very special. I believed in him. I knew he had powers.

“Then one day, the man was gone. There was another man in his place. I felt … I felt relieved and betrayed at the same time, if that makes any sense. So I told him, the new man, what I had done, and he granted me forgiveness. And that, that was when I knew.”

“Knew what, my son?”

“Knew that I must have wanted those things to happen. They didn’t happen to everyone, so I must have wanted them to happen to me. But I hated those things, those things I did, so I was confused. When I told this to the new man, he explained it all. I had a moral weakness in me, but, if I worked hard, I could fight the weakness and defeat it. With the Lord’s help.

“I believed. So the first thing I did was to make myself strong. I spent all my time in a place for weight lifters. I wanted to be big. Huge. So people would look at me and say, ‘He couldn’t possibly be a …’ ”

The priest waited. Patience had been difficult for him to master when he first began, but, over time, he had learned how valuable an asset it could be.

“But those places were full of them,” the man continued. “I couldn’t ever be sure. I didn’t even want to take a shower there. So I went to another kind of gym. A boxing gym.

“I wasn’t good at it, but I never, ever showed fear. No matter how hard I got hit, I didn’t even feel it. But, even there, those showers …”

The priest debated within himself, then decided that too much prompting would interrupt the flow. Another skill he had learned over the years.

“In high school, before I dropped out, I had girlfriends,” the man said. “Never for long, because I was always grabbing at them, like I was trying to make them put out. Force them. I wanted to show them. Show them all. Show them right then. In school, people said things about me, but I didn’t care. Because they never said the one word that would kill me.

“Besides, I never wanted one of the nice girls, anyway. I wanted one of my own kind.

“Like I said, I quit school. I went in the army. I was so lucky there was a war. I got to be brave, out where everyone could see it for themselves. Even the ones who whispered about me being crazy, that was the same as high school—there’s worse things to be called, and I never was.

“The only scary part came when my platoon caught this girl. Everyone took a turn with her. I had to do it.”

“You had to rape a defenseless woman?”

“Yes,” the man said, as if the answer was self-evident.

“Did you ever do anything like that again?”

“No. I had already proved myself. When I got out, I had the proof. Medals and everything. But I never felt … safe.”

“Safe from what, my son?”

“Safe from the truth. The truth in me. The truth that special man had told me about myself. He told me, if I hadn’t wanted it, it never would have happened.”

“You were afraid you were a—?”

“No. I already knew that was what I was. What I was afraid of was anyone finding out. So I had to be the opposite. The opposite of the truth.”

“So you got married and—?”

“No. No, I didn’t get married. What would that prove? Plenty of
them
are married. I went someplace far away. Where they have holy men. Not the same kind of holy man I told you about, but sort of like that. Only I didn’t ever talk to them. I went to the place where they are so I could learn what I needed to be safe.”

“Did you learn those things?”

“Yes. But not from them. I went to their … place because I thought only holy men knew these things. But they didn’t want me. I told them I was willing to do anything to prove myself worthy, but it didn’t matter. They didn’t want me.

“At first, I thought it was because they knew. So I kept looking. And I found other men who would sell the secrets I needed. That’s when I knew there was nothing holy about what I was looking for, because a holy man would not sell secrets.”

“I don’t understand. What secrets do you mean?”

“The secrets of their training. There was nothing … spiritual about it, not the way they taught. But it wasn’t for everyone. You had to find them, first. If you could find them, you knew you would have to pay.”

“Yes. You already said—”

“No. Money was only part of the price. You also pay with pain.
It took a long time. They did all kinds of things to me. Sometimes, it was so bad that my whole world was a throbbing red blaze. But they never actually hurt me; nobody can do that.”

“And you endured all of that because of …?”

“Yes. And it was years before I truly felt safe. I was still alone, but that’s what I wanted. It’s the only way to be safe, to be alone.

“I don’t know if the people who hired me ever judged me, but it never felt as if they did. Maybe because they didn’t care, maybe because they were afraid of me. But as long as I didn’t feel anything, it didn’t matter.”

“How many—”

“What difference?” the man said. “I don’t keep score. I’m not in a contest. It’s not something they give awards for. Nobody will ever know who’s the best at it, because anyone who is truly the best will never be known.”

“Your sin is—”

“The worst one of all,” the man interrupted. “I committed the sin of forgiveness.”