He looked up at me with eyes that were filled with a devastating sadness. The microphone fell from his hand.
“Help me,” he said softly. “Please, for the love of God help me … . I don’t want to kill the world.”
Interlude Twenty-one
The Seven Kings
Four Months Ago
After the oath was given and accepted, there was a party. The Kings and their Consciences left the chamber and went up into the castle, where tables had been set, food laid out, and a thousand candles lighted. There were scores of people—members of the upper-echelon staff, rock stars, politicians, famous artists.
The American took Gault and Toys aside before they entered the ballroom.
“Careful what you say in here.”
“These people don’t know?” asked Gault.
“Nah. They think this is a party, and most of these lunkheads are professional party people. They jet-set around the world to wherever the party is. Drinking, snorting, and fucking their way through the glitterati landscape. No cameras are allowed and the stuff that happens here never makes it to the press.”
“Yes,” murmured Toys with a smile, “we’ve swum in these waters for years.”
The American laughed. “Good point. Then you know the rules.”
“The only rule is silence,” said Toys.
“Fucking A.” The American clapped them both on the shoulders and then dove into the eddying waters of flesh and excess.
Gault made to follow, but Toys touched his arm. “Sebastian … are you sure about this?”
“About what? Getting drunk and getting laid?”
“I’m being serious here.”
“Why?” asked Gault. “Why are you even hesitating? I could tell when we were in there that you didn’t like it. Why? This is what we have both wanted forever. All this power has been handed to us.”
“When you’re done coming in your pants, how about stepping back for a perspective check? Don’t you think this is all too much too soon? And too free?”
A look of disappointment flickered over Gault’s face. “I understand that you’re still off-balance from what happened with Amirah and the Seif Al Din, Toys. Granted our luck turned bad with that.” He touched the bandages that covered part of his handsome face. “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten, or could ever forget. But sometimes fortune does smile on people. We’ve landed on our feet here. We’ve landed hip deep in gold dust. We’re among friends.”
“They’re not my friends,” said Toys defensively.
“Sure they are. They’re my friends and what’s mine is yours. Now stop being a pussy and let’s go get what we deserve!”
Toys started to protest, but Gault clapped him hard on the shoulder—much harder than had the American—and pulled him into the noise and movement of the party.
Chapter Thirty-three
The Blue Bell Inn
Skippack Pike, Blue Bell, Pennsylvania
December 18, 3:07 P.M. EST
Rudy stopped at the Blue Bell Inn and asked for a table as far away from other diners as possible. The place was warm and cheery with Christmas decorations and twinkling lights. Rudy barely registered them. He was shown to a corner deuce where he ordered coffee and waited for the server to go away. Then he removed his cell, activated the scrambler, and called Mr. Church.
For once Church actually answered the phone. “Doctor,” he said tersely, “is this important? Otherwise—”
“It’s very important.”
“Then give it to me fast. We’re in the middle of something here.”
Rudy did, though a couple of times he felt as if he were wandering down shadowy side corridors of speculation. Church listened without interruption, but when Rudy was finished he said, “Verify that he mentioned the Ten Plagues of Egypt.”
“Yes.”
“And a river of blood?”
“Yes.”
“And he mentioned Grace and Ghost?”
“He used those words in a sentence. It might be pure coincidence, but I doubt it.”
Church grunted.
“Mr. Church,” Rudy said, “I want to be frank with you.”
“By all means.”
“This man frightened me.”
“In what way? Because he appears to have insider knowledge?”
“Not precisely. It’s more that he appears to have …”
“Say the word, Doctor.”
“Okay. He appears to have unnatural knowledge.” Rudy licked his dry lips. “What is happening over there? How come I can’t get through on Joe’s phone?”
“Captain Ledger is participating in an active operation.”
“Is he in danger?”
Church did not answer.
“What did Nicodemus mean by ‘river of blood’?”
After a moment, Church said, “I’ll call when I have information that I can share.”
Church disconnected, and Rudy sat alone.
“Dios mio,” he breathed.
Interlude Twenty-two
The Seven Kings
Four Months Ago
“So … you make your fortunes by chaos?” Gault asked as he and the American strolled through the fragrant gardens on the island. Toys trailed along a few feet behind them, and watchful guards were posted in camouflaged observation posts. Gault carried a glass of whiskey and soda; the American had a balloon of brandy. Vox took slow drags on a cigar. Behind them the castle was lighted up like a Disney palace. Music and laughter from the party were muted by the dense trees.
“‘Chaos’ is a good catchall word,” said the American. “By its own nature it resists specific definition. ‘Destabilization’ is maybe a little more precise. Any time the status quo takes a hit we make a buck.”
“And yet your day job—if it’s not too vulgar to call it that—is all about stabilization.”
“Yeah, well, life’s a fucking comedy act isn’t it?” They strolled in companionable silence for a bit. “With my day-job stuff … you do see how that allows for the other stuff to work, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“So, you can see why I’m not too crazy about Mom screwing with it.”
“Of course,” said Gault neutrally.
“I’d rather we stuck with events like 9/11 and the London subway bombings. That stuff hits the market like a tsunami, and we turn a buck while staying far, far away from the action.”
“You prefer to play it safe?”
“Fucking right. The risks should all be on paper or in predictions of percentage points. We shouldn’t be risking our own goddamn necks.”
“That’s less … exciting.”
The American snorted. “Don’t lecture me on what’s exciting, Sebastian. You’re a nice kid, but you laid your balls on the chopping block when you got involved with Lady Frankenstein over in Afghanistan. And you didn’t profit from it. You’re on the lam and you lost how much money?”
Gault said nothing.
“Mom’s more like you,” continued the American. “She grooves on the danger. She was against the bank thing we did a few years ago.”
“You robbed a bank?”
“Ha! We robbed every bank on the Continent. We spent fifteen years orchestrating the recession that slammed everyone at the end of’08. That was mine, right from the beginning. No risks, and we made insane amounts of money.”
“From an economic downturn?”
“That’s just it, Sebastian: the Seven Kings don’t see what’s been happening as an economic downturn. It’s simply a turn; it’s a sudden and radical change. Look, imagine that the economy is like an hourglass. Turn it on its head and the sand flows in a safe and predictable way. But if that same glass had holes in its sides, then during the process of turning it around some sand would inevitably fall out.”