Realisation dawned. ‘And that’s why you need an archaeologist.’
‘Exactly,’ Cross replied. ‘Someone with the knowledge and experience to join the dots, to make the connections between the places John saw in his visions and where they are today.’
‘But why me?’ objected Nina. ‘Your followers have obviously given you plenty of money if you’ve been able to build all this. You could have just hired somebody to work it out. Why kidnap me and Eddie?’
‘I didn’t want to involve an archaeologist until now, because they have their own biases that would have made them deny the truth. Just like all scientists. But you don’t have the option to deny it. And…’ The cult leader smiled. For the first time, the sense of malevolence lurking beneath the surface came out into the open. ‘You were highly recommended by an associate of mine.’
The words sent a chill through her. That suggested Cross was working with someone with a personal grudge against her — but who? She and Eddie had made a lot of enemies…
She didn’t have time to worry further about it as Cross spoke again. ‘Three locations are given special significance in the text of Revelation: “the Synagogue of Satan”, “the Throne of Satan”, and “the Place in the Wilderness”. I think they’re where the other angels are hidden.’ He closed the laptop and gestured towards the door. ‘Your job, Dr Wilde, is to find them.’
Nina suddenly realised that she already knew the true identity of one of the locations — but managed to hide her recognition of the fact, not wanting to give anything to her kidnapper. Instead she summoned up resistance. ‘I’m not doing a damn thing until I know Eddie’s okay.’
Simeon advanced on her. ‘You were warned—’
‘Wait, Simeon,’ said Cross. ‘I was always going to let you see your husband, Dr Wilde. This way. Please.’ The unpleasant smile returned.
That alone made Nina feel more worried than ever, but she followed him back into the control room, Anna and Simeon again shadowing her. The screens were still cycling through clips of her at the Mission and in New York, but her eyes went straight to the single monitor showing the live feed of Eddie.
Cross went to his chair and tapped at a touchscreen. The dizzying display before him faded to black. Another command, and the curved video wall came back to life, the image of Eddie bound to the chair spread across it. The camera was offset to his right, looking down at him. ‘Mr Irton,’ said Cross. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes, sir, I can hear you,’ came the reply. The new voice was American, like Cross and his lieutenants, the accent suggesting that the speaker was from one of the south-western states.
‘Dr Wilde is with me. Could you wake her husband, please?’
‘I sure can.’ Nothing happened for several seconds — then a plume of water lanced in from the bottom of the screen and hit the Englishman in the face.
Nina gasped as he thrashed and coughed. ‘Eddie!’
5
Eddie slammed painfully back to wakefulness as the frigid water hit him. He struggled to breathe, the sudden cold squeezing his chest tight — then realised he couldn’t move. His arms were pinned painfully behind his back. Still straining to draw in air, he shook and writhed, trying to get loose.
No joy. Something was biting into his wrists. Handcuffs. No way to break them, but if there was enough slack in the chain, he might be able to bring his hands in front of him…
He couldn’t. He was in a chair, a single metal pole supporting its broad back, and couldn’t spread his arms far enough apart to lift them up around it. His ankles were secured too, tied to the chair’s legs.
But he felt the whole seat flex slightly as he struggled. If he kept going, he might be able to crack a weld or strip a screw—
Movement nearby. He looked up, shaking icy water from his eyes, and knew he wouldn’t get the chance.
Three men stared stonily back at him. The same bastards who’d attacked him on the street, shooting him with a Taser and bundling him into a van to be gagged… and drugged. They’d stuck him with something to knock him out. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but he was both hungry and thirsty, with a groggy headache and raw, gritty eyes.
His surroundings came into focus beyond the trio. A warehouse or factory, derelict, grey daylight leaking in through grubby windows high above. Dirty crates and unidentifiable rusting machinery glinted with cobwebs. Closer by were some metal cases, their cleanliness telling him they had been brought by his kidnappers. His leather jacket lay crumpled on the floor nearby.
He also saw a video camera mounted on a tripod, connected to a laptop on a wooden bench. The red light by the lens suggested that he had an audience—
A voice cut through his fear. ‘Eddie!’
‘Nina!’ he yelled back. ‘Nina, where are you?’
‘She’s not here,’ said the older man mockingly. ‘Prophet? He’s awake.’
‘Yes, I can see,’ came another disembodied voice from the laptop, an American man. ‘Dr Wilde, you can talk to your husband. Briefly.’
‘Eddie!’ Nina cried over the speakers. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’ve been better,’ he replied, blowing more dripping water off his face. ‘And I’m fucking freezing. These twats just woke me up with a bucket of ice water!’
‘Watch your mouth,’ said the blond man, a plaster across his broken nose.
‘Fuck off.’
The man’s face twisted with anger. Eddie saw the punch coming, but was completely unable to resist. It hit his stomach, hard, leaving him breathless.
‘No, stop!’ Nina shouted. ‘Leave him alone!’
‘Mr Chase,’ said the man with Nina, ‘I’d advise you to watch your language. Go on, Dr Wilde.’
‘You son of a bitch,’ she muttered, before raising her voice again. ‘Are you all right, Eddie?’
‘Like I said,’ he wheezed through gritted teeth, ‘been better. Where are you?’
‘I don’t know — somewhere in the tropics, I think. They took me from the apartment and brought me here.’
Worry gripped him. ‘Is the baby okay?’
‘Yeah, as far as I can tell. They were going to drug me, but when I told them I was pregnant, they backed off.’
‘Oh, so they’re the caring kind of kidnappers. Good to know. What the hell do they want with us?’
‘They’re… they’re using you to force me to cooperate. Eddie, they say they’ll torture you if I don’t do what they want.’
A different cold ran through him as he guessed what was in the cases. ‘Why? What are they after?’
‘It’s about the Book of Revelation, they—’
Sudden silence as the call was muted. ‘Nina?’ Eddie shouted. ‘Nina! Put her back on, you fucking shithead!’
The blond man punched him again as the unknown voice returned. ‘You’ve seen that your husband is still alive, Dr Wilde. Now I want you to see what’ll happen to him if you don’t do as you’re told. Mr Irton?’
The Taser man opened one of the cases. ‘Oh, fuck,’ Eddie gasped as Irton produced a cattle prod, a black baton two feet long with a pair of stubby electrodes protruding from one end.
‘No!’ cried Nina over the speakers. ‘I’ll do what you want; you don’t have to hurt him! Please, don’t!’
But Eddie knew from the look in Irton’s eyes that nothing she said would stop the shock from coming. The thin-mouthed man wasn’t being sadistic or taking sick joy from inflicting pain on another human being — it was just business, part of the job, the professional detachment of the slaughterhouse worker. This was something he had done before, many times. He pushed a button. The electrodes crackled.