The Belial Stone (The Belial Series) (10 page)

CHAPTER  20

Washington, D.C.

G
ideon glided through the bustling halls of the U.S. Capitol behind Senator Robert Kensington.  He adjusted his posture to look meek, unimportant.  In these halls, the unimportant were given less attention than the furniture. 

Kensington, however, pulled attention to himself like a moth to a flame.  He greeted the people who passed with a nod or smile.  Tall with a large, open face, he was the perfect personification of the Washington politician: navy tailored suit, hair graying at the temples, a smile for every constituent, blue eyes that could convey sincerity, anger, or righteous indignation at the drop of a hat.  The living embodiment of Machiavelli’s creed: Men in general judge more from appearances than reality.  How foolish.  

Kensington stopped to chat with another senator, an obnoxious woman from Georgia.  Gideon settled himself against a wall to wait. 

He peered up at the Capitol Dome and the Apotheosis of Washington, painted by Constantino Brumidi.  People zipped passed him, but he paid them no heed now.  Adorning the eye of the rotunda, the fresco depicted George Washington rising to heaven.   George Washington was immo
rtalized as if he were a god.

The fresco always caused a small burn in Gideon’s chest.  A human as a god.  There was no end to their arrogance.

But even Gideon had to admit he could feel the power of the building.   Power that had been wielded by men since the birth of this country.

Kensington glanced back at him.  With a haughty tilt of his head, he indicate
d that Gideon should follow.

Gideon imagined smashing him into Washington's face above.  The image tamped down his anger at the man's imperious manner.  He sighed.  It was only a short while longer until this farce would be at an end. 

“Robert.”

Gideon glanced behind him and saw Frederick Santolt, the chairman of Kensington’s party, walking towards them.  Freddy, as he liked to be called, always portrayed a down-home charm that went over well with the media and constituents.  Behind the scenes, however, Freddy was a shark who made all the other politicians look like guppies.  And, Gideon knew, he was the man who held the keys to Kensington’s dream.

Kensington turned on his full watt smile.  “Freddy, how’re you doing?  Great speech on the union measure.”

Freddy grasped his hand in a firm handshake and placed his other hand on Kensington’s bicep, his “I’m your buddy” shake.  Gideon noticed Kensington’s shoulders stiffen in response.  And for good reason.  Freddy only employed the buddy handshake wh
en he was delivering bad news.

Well, this should be entertaining
. Gideon glided closer to the pair.

“I’m glad I ran into you,” Freddy drawled, somehow pulling off a Texas accent even though he had been born and bred in Boston.  “Just got off the phone with a few of our big sponsors.  They’re very excited about the upcoming election.  They think we have a real shot.”

“I’m glad.  I think it’s our turn.”

“Indeed, indeed.”  Freddy replied.  Gideon barely avoided grimacing at the man’s conversational mainstay.  “That’s, in fact, what I wanted to talk to you about.   I know you have aspirations for the higher office.”

“Well, I think we all dream of that job one day.  I just hope I’m worthy.” Kensington provided the expected diplomatic response.  God, these exchanges were tedious.

Freddy beamed and nodded.  “Absolutely.  But we think that next time round, John Michaels is going to be the golden boy.  He’s young, handsome, ambitious.  The media just go nuts over him and he’s made quite a name for himself with his budget proposal.  He’s really our rising star and we need to capitalize on that.”

Kensington’s face and voice gave nothing away.  “John’s an incredible asset for our party.  He’s done some great things.”

“Indeed, indeed,” Freddy said again.  “We’re trying to get the whole party behind him and really put up a united front.  Can we count on you?”

Kensington gave Freddy his most sincere look.  “Whatever’s best for the party, you know that.”

Freddy clapped him on the shoulder.  “Knew we could count on you.  Let’s set up a round of golf sometime in the next month.  Have your assistant call mine to arrange it.”

“Will do.” Kensington replied as Freddy turned and headed back down the hall. 

Gideon could feel the anger flowing from Kensington as he watched Freddy leave.

He turned and glared at Gideon.  “Follow me.”

Kensington led him through a series of hallways until they ended up
in an empty conference room.

Gideon closed the door behind them, abandoning all pretense of submissiveness.  “Problem, Robert?”

“Problem?  Did you hear that prick?  Michaels is a boy.  He’s only in his second term as senator.  He hasn’t paid his dues yet.  It’s my turn.”  He whirled around and paced the room.  “You need to pick up the pace at the site.  I need results sooner. I need something to show them.

“We’re already working the men through the night.  They’ll pass away that much quicker if we pick up the pace.”

“I don’t give a damn,” he growled.  “Work them all through the night for all I care.  They can always be replaced.  One thing America will never run out of is criminals.  Make it happen, Gideon.”  He stormed out of the room.

Gideon watched him go, his eyes narrowed.  If Kensington didn’t have all the necessary connections, Gideon would crush him like a bug.  But he was right about picking up the pace.  This was taking way too long. 

His phone rang.  Speaking of which…

“Paul.  I take it our little situation is now under control?” 

“Not quite.”

“Not quite?” he echoed, disbelief coating his words.  “Are you telling me she’s still alive?”

“She’s proven quite resourceful.  But I’ll have her by the evening.”

“Well, make it quick.  The longer she’s out there, the greater the risk.”

“I’ll handle it my way.”  Paul’s words were covered in a layer of ice.

Gideon stared at the ceiling and blew out a breath.  Paul’s ego was damaged.  He would need to beat McPhearson in a satisfying way, which meant not quick.  Damn. 

“Where is she right now?”

“At the police station.”

Gideon glanced at his watch.  “She’ll probably be there for a few hours.  Keep her under surveillance.  I have a plane waiting at the airport.  I can be there in two hours.  Don’t move on her until I get there.”

“There’s no need for that, brother.  I can handle her.”

Gideon smiled.  “I have no doubt of that.  I just feel the need for a little fun.”

CHAPTER 21

Syracuse, NY

N
ight was falling when Jake pulled into the U-shaped parking lot of the St. Hugh of Lincoln church.  The lot had about ten cars in it, with a few more in the bigger parking lot behind the school.  About the normal crowd, Laney told him, for an evening Mass.

They’d spent three and a half hours at the police station: preparing their statements, going through mug books.  But they’d had no luck.  Whoever Paul
was, he wasn’t in the system.

Jake had insisted they head out of town.  But Laney
had refused without her uncle.

Jake smiled, shaking his head as he followed her through the parking lot.  He’d faced down drug runners, terrorists, and war-lords.  And somehow this tiny woman had gotten him to postpone leaving town twice.  Either he was slipping or…  He shook his head, not wanting to follow that thought.  He didn’t have time for that thought. 

They were going to pick up her uncle and then Rocky and her partner were going to escort them to the airport.  He didn’t like the plan.  It would take too much time.  But Laney wouldn’t leave without her uncle.

He’d considered man handling her into the plane but after reading her history, he was pretty sure he would not come out unscathed.  And he did need her cooperation just in case any of this was related to the file her friend had sent her.  Although for the life of
him, he couldn’t see how it was

So here they were, walking into a space he didn’t like, giving Paul mo
re time to catch up with them.

His eyes constantly checked the shadows for any movement as they headed for the rectory.  He didn’t like this layout.  There was only one exit.  Laney explained the rectory didn’t have a back door.  And while he’d be able to see anyone approaching, anyone would also be easily able to see them leaving.

Laney paused at a break between the walls of the church and the school.  “This is the courtyard.”

He thought the term might be a bit generous.  The three walls enclosing the area consisted of the elementary school on one side, the rectory in the middle, and the church on the right.  And in between, more parking lot.

“What’s with the basketball hoop?”  Jake asked spying it on the opposite side of the courtyard. 

“Uncle Patrick had it erected for the neighborhood kids.” 

Jake caught a glimpse of a smile on her face.  “And what’s with the smile?”

Laney turned, her smile lighting up her face.  Jake caught his breath.  She really was stunning. 

“During the summer, we’d catch fireflies and drink ice tea on the porch.  This place might look unimpressive to some, but to a child, it’s magical.  Some of my best memories happened here.”

They walked up the steps and Laney fished out her key from her pocket.   Unlocking the door, she flipped on the light switch by the door, heading for the small kitchen.  She set about brewing the t
ea and setting up some snacks.

Jake smiled at the ease of her movements.  She obviously felt at home here.  Her shoulders had lost some of their rigidity.  She’d even started humming a
little tune under her breath.

Jake’s head whipped around as he heard a footfall on the porch outside.  His hand went to h
is holster as the door opened.

Laney appeared next to him, her hand on his arm.  “It’s okay.  It’s my uncle.”

A man stood poised in the doorway.  In his mind, Jake had envisioned Patrick Delaney as a frail old priest with a shuffling walk.  The man who strode through the door was anything but.  He was the picture of vitality.

Jake felt Patrick size him up as he crossed the room.  He restrained the urge to straighten his spine to match the older man’s posture.  Although he was dressed in full priestly black, complete with the white collar, his eyes were that of a different kind of father when they came to rest on Laney. 

Patrick smiled and walked over to her with his arms outstretched.  She walked into them without hesitation.

A shudder ran through her as his arms closed around her, and then her shoulders dropped with relief.

Jake glanced away from the comfort he saw in that hug, feeling as if he was an intruding.

“Ah, my dea
r.  Thank God you're all right.

“It’s okay.  I
’m fine,” she said pulling away

Patrick tilted up her chin.  “That bruise on your cheek would suggest otherwise.  And if you were fine, I’m pretty sure we
wouldn’t be going into hiding.

“Well, I didn’t say I was perfect.”  She glanced over at Jake and smiled.  “Uncle Patrick, this is Jake Rogan from the Chandler Group.

Patrick turned to shake Jake’s hand.  Jake always thought a handshake said a lot about a man.  Patrick’s firm handshake said he was a straight shooter.  Good

Patrick followed Laney to the kitchen.  “I cleared my schedule with the diocese after I got the call from Rocky.  I have an extended leave of absence.”  He paused.  Jake could hear the concern in his tone.  “Are you sure you're okay?”

She nodded.  “I am.  I’ll be even better once we’re out of here and I know you’re safe.” 

Laney gestured for Jake to take a seat as she grabbed the whistling kettle and poured steaming water into each of the mugs.  She handed them to the two men, before turning to Patrick.  “Is your computer and printer still set up?”

“Yes.  It’s in my bedroom.  Why?”

“I need to borrow it for a minute.  I’ll be right back,” she said before
disappearing down the dark hallway.

Jake watched Laney leave and turned to find her uncle staring at him.  He restrained the urge to squirm. 

“So, Mr. Rogan, Laney tells me we are placing our safety in your hands.”

“It’s Jake, and yes.  Chandler HQ has state-of-the-art security.  You’ll be safe there.”

Patrick pierced him with his eyes.  “Jake, that young woman means the world to me.  When my sister died, I promised I’d protect her from the evils of this world.  She hasn’t had it easy growing up without her parents and with me as her guardian.”

Jake interrupted.  “How exactly did that happen?  A Catholic priest getting custody?”

Patrick took a sip of tea.  “Not easily.  Laney’s parents were killed in a car accident.  She was only eight.  Her father’s stepbrother and wife originally agreed to take custody of her.  I was heading up a dig in Africa at the time and I thought a normal life with a mother and a father was what was best for her.” 

He shook his head.    “It wasn't.  They were…” Patrick paused, seeming to search for the right word.  “Unkind.  Laney hadn’t written me in a while and I became concerned.  I made a surprise trip home.  When I arrived, she was at the hospital with a broken arm.  Her uncle was responsible.  There were a rash of old bruises covering her as well.  I petitioned for custody that day.  I told the church they either supported my petition or I would leave them.  I knew I was critical to their archaeological missions, so they threw their weight behind my petition.”

Jake felt anger build at the image in his head: a little girl, with huge green eyes, being used as punching bag.

“We’ve been a family ever since.  So you need to understand, that when I say I won’t let anything happen to her, I mean it.  Do we understand each other?”

Jake looked into the man's clear blue eyes.  He read the determination and love there.  “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect her,” he replied, surprised at how strong his own desire to do just that was.

Patrick nodded.  “Laney tells me you’re looking for your brother.”

Jake nodded.  “Yes.  Tom went missing about two days ago.  I think a file Laney received from Drew Masters might help me find him.”

The priest’s face tightened at the mention of Drew, although he was better at hiding his emotions than his niece.  Drew mattered to Patrick as well.  “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Patrick cleared his throat.  “Drew was a good man, a good friend. We thought of him as family.  Laney introduced him to me about ten years ago. She’s convinced he didn't take his own life.  I must admit, he never struck me as the suicidal type, though despair can overwhelm a person.  But the alternative, that someone took his life, is no less comforting.”

Jake knew that despair.  After his mother’s death, it had gripped him.  Tom and Mrs. Jeffries had kept him from giving in.  “I have to admit, the timing of his death is suspicious.  There’s a lot swirling around Dr. Priddle, who himself has disappeared.  I think we need to keep all possibilities on the table until we can absolutely rule them out.”

Patrick nodded and then his eyes shifted to a spot behind Jake.  Jake glanced over his shoulder at Laney, who was tucking some sheets of paper into the big pocket at the front of her sweatshirt as she entered the room.  “Just got a text from Rocky.  She and Mike are a minute away.  Time to go.”  She started to pull open the front door. 

Jake bounded from his seat.  “Laney, wait.  Let me check–”

His words were cut off as the door swung open, knocking Laney back. 

Paul stepped into the room. “There you are, Dr. McPhearson.  We never had a chance to finish our conversation.  How does now work for you?”