They shook hands. It felt to Hawke like they had crossed a bridge, but he still had his reservations about Danny Devlin. The man’s bravery was beyond question, but his judgement was still hanging in the balance.
Lexi Zhang finished heaping up the last unconcious man into her collection and then strolled over. The moonlight shone in her eyes as she looked at Hawke. “I think it’s time we picked up that shipment of heroin from the sub, don’t you?”
Hawke smiled. “One thing I like about you, Lex — you’re always up for it.”
“I bet that’s what all the lads say, eh?” Devlin said.
Lexi gave him a stern look. “I see you’re not overly attached to your balls, Mr Devlin. Would you like me to kick them over to Zito’s island?”
A mischievous grin spread on his face. “Sorry, I was sure you could take a joke.”
“Of course I can,” she said, returning the grin. “Where would you like to go?”
“Touché,” Devlin said, accepting defeat.
Hawke had already started to walk down the cliff path that led to the pick-up point on the beach below. “Can leave the foreplay for later, girls?” he called over his shoulder. “We have work to do.”
Vice President Davis Faulkner was tense as the limousine cruised behind the police escort. They were driving south along Rock Creek and Potomac Parkway on their way to the Capitol building where he was due to break a tie on a vote in the Senate. As ex-officio President of the US Senate, the Constitution gave him the power to make the casting vote when the Senate was tied, and today his vote was required to pass the nomination of the Secretary of Veterans Affairs.
It was not exactly his idea of a good time, but the machinery of the US Government was surprisingly delicate and responsive and he had a role to play in that; a role he would continue to play until he got into the Big Chair.
It was also not why he was tense, and now his eyes crawled over the soft leather seats to the car-phone. When it rang, he nearly had a heart attack, then he flashed a tongue over his dry lips and picked up the receiver. “Faulkner.”
“Mr Vice President,” the voice said. “I’m so glad you found time to speak to me.”
“I serve at your will, sir.”
A low chuckle. “Of course… of course.”
“Let me start by apologizing for…”
“I’m not interested in apologies or explanations, Davis. You were ordered to destroy Elysium and kill Eden. You failed on both counts. The Valhalla idol is still in their possession and Eden lives.”
“Yes, sir. The man I put in charge of the assault failed me.”
“The man I put in charge of the assault failed me.”
Faulkner swallowed hard and pulled his pocket square from his breast pocket. He dabbed at sweat beading on his forehead. He was the man the Oracle was referring to, and he didn’t like where the conversation was going. “I can make amends, sir.”
“You can and you will. Say it.”
“Yes — I can and I will.”
“Good. We need those idols, Davis. Not just the one ECHO removed from Valhalla, but each and every one of them.” He paused and Faulkner heard him sucking on a cigar. “The most devastating power you can imagine is locked within the idols, Davis; the secrets they guard will rock this world like nothing that has ever come before and elevate me to my rightful place above all of humanity.” Another pause, and a deep, masculine exhalation of thick smoke. “You want to be…part of this pilgrimage, don’t you, Davis?”
“More than anything, sir.”
“This is also good. An obedient servant is a happy servant.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So let me make this clear: I want ECHO terminated and I will not ask you again.”
“Yes sir,” Faulkner said. Then, trying to look on the ball, he added, “When do you want me to move against Brooke?”
The Oracle chuckled again. “Assassination of a sitting President is high treason, Davis, and yet you talk about it as if you’re playing chess with a man in a park.”
“I just want to serve the cause, sir.”
“You will be given your orders when I want Brooke removed from the White House and not before. Let’s just say his days are numbered.”
“Yes, sir. it’s just that I can serve the cause better from the Presidency. The Vice President has very limited powers. There’s no way I can deploy serious forces against ECHO or anyone else from this office.”
“I know the way the system works, Davis. I was in the room when the Constitution was written.”
Davis swallowed again but tried to keep his voice straight and level. It wasn’t easy when the Oracle said things like this. He had no idea if it could be true; it sounded insane but he had faith in his master and the cause he was leading. Besides, he had seen things… things that had convinced him of the Oracle’s claims. How could he dare argue with a man like this? That is, even if he was a man. “Please, accept my apologies.”
“I don’t accept failure, Mr Vice President.”
“No.”
“Which way were you thinking of voting today?” the Oracle said.
“For McKinney.”
“Wrong. You’ll vote for Stafford.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Oracle cut the call and the line buzzed. The sound of the disconnect tone filled the rear of the limo until it almost felt like it was drilling into his head. He fumbled it down onto the cradle and linked his fingers. As they passed the Lincoln Memorial and turned east toward the Senate he realized his knee was jogging up and down like a jackhammer, but no matter how much he tried to rein it in, it just kept going up and down.
What had he done? People talked about selling your soul to the devil, but he felt like that would almost be a relief compared with what he had gotten himself into. What was it Marlowe said about this? He searched his mind for the words he had learned so many years ago when his mind was still young and his conscience fresh and clear.
Hell is just a frame of mind.
Yes, that was it — and it made him feel a little better until he remembered the part where the devils came for Faustus and dragged him down into that hell.
He shuddered but a smile crossed his lips: no devil was dragging an immortal soul into hell, and only the Oracle could offer him this blessed salvation. That is why he would do anything to serve the Man and the Cause.
Anything.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Tiger watched a packed commuter train rattle into the enormous East Railway Station and glanced at his watch as he stepped out of the government car. All around him China’s third biggest city buzzed and vibrated with life. The aroma of beef offal stew and steamed vermicelli drifted over from a nearby street vendor, and an old woman in a surgical face mask brushed his shoulder as she pedalled past him on a three wheel bike.
Pig and Rat emerged from the car, straightened their ties and flanked him. Tiger was no fan of Tianhe — at least not this part of the district. To him, some of these back streets represented some of the very lowest forms of human life in China.
And now he was about to meet the absolute lowest of them all.
Monkey.
They turned off the main road and made their way the last few hundred meters without the car. Tiger prided himself on being a total professional, and there was no point having unnecessary witnesses. Deep in a labyrinth of degraded tower blocks and crumbling asphalt, they finally reached the building they were looking for.
Car horns and bike bells jostled for supremacy in the background as Tiger double checked the address. He stared up at the colonial-era townhouse. Rotten red shutters hung down at odd angles from the sides of the windows, and a TV aerial cable snaked its way down through broken roof tiles before vanishing through the wall on the upper floor.