The door opens: Roseanne slips in, followed by handmaiden Julie pushing a trolley loaded with refreshments.
“Julie.” Schiller smiles at her; she bobs a nervous curtsey. “I believe you escorted Ms. Hazard between the lecture theatre and her abrupt departure from the communion service?”
“Yes, Father.” She licks her lips, nervous and wide-eyed as a doe caught in headlights. Her voice is soft and hoarse. “She said she needed the restroom, so I led her there. I saw her go inside, but Pastor Dawes was paging me to find a clean surplice for communion so I had to go sort that out. When I got back she was still there and it was time for the service, so I led her straight there—” Her words come faster, until she’s nearly gabbling.
“Be at peace, my daughter.” Ray smiles at her again and Alex tenses. The stink of blame hangs in the air, a cloud of doom floating from head to head: it has just left Julie’s vicinity and is now bumping around, looking for a victim to attach itself to like an imp from hell. His expression hardens. “Alex. The cameras.”
Alex swallows again: his tongue is dry. This is the delicate bit. “I had Bill and Tony run the tapes. Julie had barely left when the Hazard woman came out of the toilet. She headed for one of the reception rooms, and did something to a PC. Then she went straight back to the toilet, and that’s where Julie found her. Near as I can work it out, she then went on…” He outlines the Hazard woman’s exit via the hospital ward and the car park while handmaid Julie pours Schiller a mug of coffee and passes him a pastry.
“Hmm. And just what exactly did our black sheep get up to on the computer?” Schiller is staring at Alex again, his gaze as black and sharp as an Aztec savage’s obsidian dagger.
“I don’t know, sir. She rebooted it right after, and didn’t leave anything attached. But in view of what happened next, I’m assuming the computers were her target all along, so I’ve taken the liberty of shutting down the entire admin network and calling in our best computer forensics dudes. They’ll be here this evening to take everything apart. They’ll be looking for keyloggers, rootkits, spyware—that’s my best guess. And when we find it, we’ll use it to feed our visitors what we want them to hear.”
“I’m glad you’ve got it all covered. Can you keep it locked down until after Sunday’s special service? It would be especially unfortunate if the Black Chamber were to become involved before the Harrowing.”
“We’ll work on it.” Alex licks his dry lips. “Mark and his team have a contingency plan. It comes with an increasing risk of exposure if we run it for too long, but today’s Saturday. If we activate the script tonight we can keep the whole city tight until Sunday evening, and maybe even Monday afternoon before the Feds start questioning the story they’re getting from their local offices. That should buy time for the main event at the New Life campus…”
“Do what you will; I wash my hands of it,” Schiller says dismissively. “What of the Hazard woman and her associates?”
“There are two angles to that. Firstly, we’re trying to establish what she knows.” Too much for comfort, that’s for sure, Alex thinks. She had to take a short cut through the Lost Lambs ward… “And we’re looking for where she went. We’ve got a warrant out for her on charges of aggravated assault and grand theft auto, thanks to the nurse she beat up—also firearms theft, because Nurse Stanhope had a pistol in her glove compartment. That’s going to get the attention of the State Patrol and every local PD in the region, and Sam Erikson is trying to get her on the TSA no-fly list.”
Holt harrumphs. “Can you do any more? Charge her with murder or something?”
Alex shakes his head. “Why bother? These are real felonies, they’re watertight enough to stand up in court. As long as the judge and jury and attorneys are all churched, nothing will leak; it’s always better not to lie, isn’t it? Besides, after tomorrow’s service and the Harrowing there won’t be much she can do. We’ll reel her in soon enough. What I’m more worried about are her associates, the McTavish man and her controller—”
“Controller?” Schiller straightens in his chair. He’s taken a bite out of his pastry and some color is returning to his cheeks. “The British spy in Denver, right?”
“I haven’t heard from Gordon and Lyons. They were supposed to bring him in four hours ago and they haven’t reported back. They’re not answering their cellphones.”
“Really?” Schiller’s expression is unreadable. “Gordon and Lyons. Hmm. I would have considered them to be reliable…” He takes a sip of coffee. “Be patient.” He glances at Alex sharply. “And what of the other man? McTavish?”
Alex swallows. “That’s the bad news. Stew went to take care of McTavish himself, with a posse: Benson, O’Brien, and Sergeant Yates. Stew’s called in. They tracked McTavish to a safe house. O’Brien and Benson took the front and—just vanished. McTavish exited in a hurry and got away from the deputy. Shots were exchanged. O’Brien and Benson are missing, there were no bodies—”
Schiller puts down his coffee mug and leans forward, his expression intent. “First, the presence in the arena in London—a fellow elect. I could feel him out there, watching me. Then this sudden interest from this British agency, and now the Operational Phenomenology people in DC. And an attempt to infiltrate the Omega Course.” He clears his throat. “Do you have a picture of this McTavish?”
“Sir…” Alex fumbles with his file for a few seconds. “This is the best I—”
He trails off. Schiller stares at the grainy picture, his expression unreadable. “That’s him. The elder in the audience. Back row. I could feel him. I was right to bring forward Operation Multitude and order the wards of sanctuary emplaced, it would seem. We are under attack. Hmm. Unless, of course, he is drawn to the Mother Church he deserted…”
“Sir?”
Schiller puts his palms together before his face in a gesture of prayer. “Almighty Jesus, I beseech you, share your divine wisdom with me…” He closes his eyes, breathes slowly, then presently lowers his hands and looks at Alex. “Stewart underestimated McTavish. O’Brien is dead. Benson is unconscious. They are both some distance away, perhaps in Denver. I will tell you where they are when Benson regains awareness.
“Meanwhile, Hazard and her employer are definitely in Denver, in a motel. I know this much by the blessing of Lord Jesus Christ. I can’t narrow it down further without the witch feeling God’s hot breath on the back of her neck, but our Lord will lead them into our nets by and by.” He blinks heavily. “Bring McTavish to me for a visit, Alex. The others you may kill if it’s possible to do so without scaring off McTavish, but he the Lord has a use for.” Alex is already standing to leave as he hears Schiller continue: “Everyone go, except sisters Roseanne and Julie. We must pray together now…”
LATER, AGONIZED AND PURIFIED, SCHILLER RETREATS TO HIS private chapel to seek guidance through solitary prayer.