Settling back into his seat for the remainder of the sermon, he used the time to work on Hannibal’s eulogy in his mind.
* * * *
“You’re the best,” Arliss said over the phone when he called Bubba late Christmas Eve.
Bubba chuckled. “Aw, Joe. You sweet-talkin’ thang, you. You tryin’ to seduce me?”
Both men laughed, a comfortable pause settling between them before Arliss spoke again. “Are you sure you don’t want to head up China? I could use a good man there.”
“I don’t speak the language. You annex Mexico, we’ll talk.”
“Well…”
When he didn’t finish, Bubba prompted him. “What? Don’t hold back on me.”
“Might need an envoy there, too. They’ve already made overtures. Especially now that they know we’re close to a vaccine and that we’re fuck buddies with Canada. They managed to contain Mexico City on their own, mostly. Their military went in after that plane from Colombia arrived, and they kept a secure perimeter around the city once a couple of infected got out of the airport. But they lost over ninety percent of the population there in the process over the past several months.”
“They want to be our fifty-first state?”
“That might actually be where this leads, yeah.”
“No shit?”
“I shit you not.” Arliss chuckled. “Your Spanish still good?”
“Bueno.”
“So what are you doing tomorrow?”
“Come on, Joe. You didn’t call me to talk about Christmas plans, did you?”
“Well, yes and no. Tell me what’s going on with Ax and Mary Silo.”
Bubba leaned back in his wheelchair. He’d been concerned the topic might turn in this direction. “They’re in St. Louis and still in communication. Why?”
“Because Hannibal Silo’s been awfully quiet lately. I know he’s still alive, but what’s up with that?”
Bubba had been curious about that himself. Ax had made a few information and logistics requests of him over the past several weeks that, when taken as a whole, led Bubba to think the two had a plan of their own in the works.
He’d made sure to move one of the SOTIF teams nearby, on standby, just in case he needed to send them in for backup.
“To be honest? I don’t know. From what I’ve seen traffic-wise, it looks like Arbeid’s completely running the show there.”
“What’s your read on it?”
“I don’t know,” Bubba repeated. “If I was a bettin’ man, I’d say Arbeid has something on Silo and is using it to keep the man in line. Either that, or our last two purges finally clued them in that they’re on the losing side.”
Arliss let out a frustrated-sounding sigh. “What are your feelings about moving on Silo now? Did we ever confirm or deny a fail-safe?”
This is where Bubba had to hedge his bets. “I’d say hold off right now. We’ve pretty well neutered him in the food chain. Not like the man’s going anywhere.”
Two Senators had met with “tragic accidents” over the past couple of weeks. Tom Davis from Illinois, who’d also had CIA connections, and Bill Parnassus from Ohio, whose wife and children were not only living in the St. Louis church compound, but she was also working for the church now as an agricultural engineer heading up one of their programs.
In both cases, Bubba had been able to arrange the “tragic accidents” around winter storms.
People really shouldn’t be out driving when the weather was bad and they weren’t used to driving on ice.
“You still inside the church’s computer system?” Arliss asked.
“Yeah, and so far, it looks like they’ve actually been legit ‘churching’ the past few weeks. I’m sort of curious to see where they go from here. No evidence of any black ops on their part.”
“Doesn’t that make you nervous?”
Bubba still hedged his bets. “No, not completely. I’m less nervous than I was before. I’m thinking we wait until after New Year’s and then see about maybe trying to flip Arbeid. If I’m not mistaken, based on the intel we’ve already gathered, he’s not a fan of Silo, either. Having that many resources in the private sector might be a boon to furthering our cause come election time.”
“Hmm.” Arliss seemed to consider that for a moment. “That’s a very good point. The church helped get Charlotte elected.”
“Exactly.” A little bit of relief seeped in. If Joe wanted Silo gone, of course he’d follow orders and make it happen. But…
He was damned curious, actually. With his high perch and able to see most of the chessboard, it was kind of fun to watch things play out.
Well, not “fun,” because people were dying. It was…interesting. Seeing Joe’s plans falling into place, meaning a far better future on the near horizon, was worth the acceptable collateral damage. The US would once again be the world’s leader, literally. After the Kite threat was fully managed, they could direct their SOTIF teams into finishing off the pockets of religious insurgents that had survived the virus, and taking out any world leaders who didn’t want to play ball by the US’s rules.
There could, finally, be a real chance for world peace, a global peace.
A UN that could actually do something other than yak at each other through translators while committing political masturbation.
A future where people could aspire to achieving more in their lives than merely surviving.
He wouldn’t apologize for wanting that. A utopia? No, of course not.
Just a possibility that could finally be a reality. A goal that would allow him to sleep at night with an easy conscience.
Playing a role that would allow him to be at peace with the life he’d had to lead to get the world to that point.
A role that would finally allow him to put to rest the ghosts of the lives he’d had to take over the course of his career.
Something he’d never thought he’d be able to do, and definitely a reason for him to want to go on living now. Something that far outweighed the daily pain he struggled with in his body.
After getting off the phone with Joe, Bubba stared at the little ceramic Christmas tree set on the kitchen counter of the small safe house apartment he was currently holed up in. He hadn’t plugged it in yet, but now he rolled over to it and lit it, the multi-colored bulbs casting cheery starred patterns on the counter and wall behind it.
“Merry Christmas to us all,” he said. “And it’s about fucking time.”
Chapter Twelve
They’d left their car parked on the street a block away from the church compound’s entrance and walked in. It wouldn’t draw any undue attention, since it looked like the church had forbidden people from bringing their cars inside anyway.
When they reached the employee entrance a little before ten p.m., the fake IDs Ax had created for them worked, much to Kali’s relief. After swiping them through the ID machines to unlock the employee gate, they walked through it without so much as a second glance from the security officer manning the station.
She followed Ax through the courtyard and into a sheltered hallway, where he glanced around before swiping another ID, which opened the door. They both slipped inside, Ax pulling the door shut behind them.
This was the service stairwell he’d planned for them to access. There were no security cameras in here.
After taking off their jackets and turning them inside out, revealing the jackets of the compound’s security staff, he unzipped his messenger bag and pulled out the tablet and jumper cables.
“You ready?”
She reshouldered her backpack, inside which she had a few goodies ready for when she located Hannibal. “Ready.” She drew the gun from under her shirt, pulling her right arm inside the slightly oversized jacket sleeve enough that it hid the muzzle.
He glanced down at it. “I thought you were going to use the knife.”
“I will. But I don’t want to be caught unprepared.”
They’d been meticulously planning this f
or weeks. Fortunately, Jerald had still kept Hannibal’s daily calendars on the church server. Kali had noted with great interest the man’s reduced schedule as of late, and had picked Christmas Day to be the best date to do this.
Especially since Hannibal didn’t have anything on his calendar for the next day. It would give them plenty of time.
Ax went first and advanced up the stairwell. This one was a fire exit, all the doors opening into it and not out from it, except to the roof and ground floor levels. As they climbed, Kali fought the urge to race ahead of Ax.
He’d planned this out carefully, to the minute. She couldn’t ruin it by overexcitement no matter how eager she was.
On the ninth floor landing, Ax logged into his tablet and checked a few settings before overriding the security system, unlocking the door for them to appear as if the command came from the main panel. That way, it wouldn’t trigger an alert to the security office.
He eased the door open and peeked through. “Clear,” he whispered.
On this floor lay the main security office, main church office, server room, and Jerald Arbeid’s office and private condo. All conveniently located in this wing. Here, floors nine and ten were separated from the rest of the compound, unlike the other wings, where all the floors were all tied in with each other. The only direct access to these floors here were through the elevator and through another secure stairwell located in the center of the wing, and which only certain authorized ID badges could access…and this stairwell.
All the compounds were set up identically in this way. It truly was Hannibal’s own private little enclave.
Fortunately, at this time of night, and due to it being Christmas, the security office was, indeed, unmanned, as Ax had learned from the personnel logs.
Which came as a relief to Kali. Fewer innocent people to potentially have to kill.
But considering what she’d been through, and what Hannibal had set into motion, she wouldn’t hesitate to kill them.
Ax locked them in and immediately began overriding the security systems, especially the video cameras on this floor and the one above it, and the internal phone system. Anyone manning the downstairs security post would see nothing but empty halls on these two floors.
She watched over his shoulder and kept close track of the time. “Where’s Arbeid?”
“I’m getting there.” His fingers flew over the terminal keyboard. “His ID badge was last logged in coming to this floor two hours ago, and his apartment door was unlocked and opened about that same time. He should be in his quarters.”
“And Hannibal?”
More searching. “Upstairs in his quarters.”
From their nest here, Ax could effectively lock down these two floors. Hell, he could lock down the entire compound. But, even more importantly, he could take over the broadcast feed at will since all their data streamed through from the control room downstairs and into the data center before being sent throughout the world.
“So who, exactly, is up here with us?” she asked.
“Just the four of us.”
“And no one else can get up here?”
“Nope. No way to override this central command.”
She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Good boy.”
“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”
She felt a peace unlike anything she’d experienced since her life sentence with Hannibal began. “No, son. This is all me. Just be ready to join me in Hannibal’s quarters when I’m ready for you.”
“How long do you need?”
She checked the time again. “Ninety minutes.” She headed out the door before he could argue with her.
She hadn’t told him what she would do, exactly, beyond killing Arbeid.
What she wanted were some alone moments with Hannibal before Ax joined the fun.
After checking the safety on the gun, and making sure she had what she needed in her jacket pockets, she walked down the corridor, the layout memorized in her mind from studying the plans.
She held the stun gun in her left hand as she rang Arbeid’s doorbell.
She thought she’d have to ring a second time when he finally unlocked and opened the door.
Not even giving him a chance to speak, she shot him in the bare chest with the stun gun, enjoying how fast he went down. Shoving the door closed behind her with her foot, she reached out and zapped the little weasel a second time, just for fun. He was still moaning as she rolled him over and snapped the two sets of handcuffs around his wrists and ankles.
Fortunately, the condo had a bathroom in the hallway right around the corner from where Arbeid had dropped. She pulled a piece of duct tape off the roll from her backpack and slapped it across his mouth before grabbing the manacles around his ankles and bodily dragging him into the bathroom.
He’d started to come around again, so she gave him another jolt from the stun gun before heaving him into the bathtub.
Then, that done, she sat on the closed toilet and stared down at him with a smile on her face while he finally regained his senses.
His eyes widened as he stared at her, focused on the small knife she now held in her hand.
“Would you believe I left that day with this in my purse?” she said. “It’s far sharper now, of course, than it was that day. I learned a lot during my time on the run.”
He wore nothing but boxer shorts. She reached down and dragged the point of the knife along the length of his torso, drawing blood and making him scream behind the duct tape.
She leaned in. “Scream all you want, Jerald. I control this place. No one will come help you. I know what Hannibal was up to. I know everything. I know how you helped him, too. The LA Preachsearch Project. The Legacy Project. The girls. Because of that, and him, Barstow,” she spat.
When he started struggling again, she zapped him one more time with the stun gun.
“Oh, Jerald,” she whispered. “You fucking little weasel. The Drunk Monkeys are going to be sooo pissed off that I did this all by myself and they didn’t get to have any fun. Well, not totally by myself. I have a little help. But I wanted you all to myself.”
She reached down and slit the right side of his throat, which was facing the wall and away from her. Gouts of crimson blood pumped from his artery as he screamed and thrashed.
“Sorry, Jerald. I was pushed too far. Had Hannibal not wanted to make love slaves out of those girls, I’d still be happily drugged up and oblivious until he finally killed me. Just be thankful I’m not going to do to you what he did to me.”
He looked up at her, eyes wide, apparently pleading through the tape, based on the sounds of his mumbles.
“No, no mercy for you,” she said. “You’re going to…disappear. There will be a resignation letter on my desk tomorrow morning, presumably from you. Yes, as of less than an hour from now, I will officially be taking over from my dear husband, who will be…” She giggled. “Well, he’ll be retiring due to his poor health.”
His thrashing was growing less vigorous with blood loss, so she reached down and slit the other side of his throat, cutting deep.
Less than a couple of minutes later, he lay still, eyes open and looking shocked.
She giggled. It seemed to just flow naturally from her tonight.
Bastard.
She’d managed to not get too much of his blood on her hands. She washed her hands and the knife in the bathroom sink and then turned off the bathroom light, shutting and locking the door. Later, she’d have Ax call Bubba and ask him to send a team in to take care of this for her.
But next…
After finding Jerald’s keys and pocketing them, she giggled again as she headed for the condo’s front door.
Next, it was time for a reunion.
* * * *
Hannibal didn’t know who the hell was ringing his doorbell and pounding on his goddamned door, but when he found out who it was, they were going to be one sorry asshole. He’d specifically told Jerald he didn’t want to be b
othered that evening once he was in for the night.
He threw the door open without even bothering to look through the viewfinder.
“What the—”
He barely had time to register the woman’s Cheshire grin before it felt like a damned horse kicked him in the chest. A burst of pain flared through him as he hit the floor, stunned.
Literally.
He barely registered that she must have nailed him with a stun gun, because it didn’t make a zapping sound.
Because she touched it to me.
He remembered that now because he’d once used one on a guy he’d needed to make an example of years ago.
She shoved the door closed and locked it. When she turned back to him and grinned down at him, he wanted to scream in rage, but the breath had been driven out of his lungs.
“Hello, Hannibal, darling. Long time, no see.”
She reached out and zapped him again.
Blackness rushed up to take him.
Chapter Thirteen
When Hannibal regained consciousness, he wasn’t sure where he was, at first. He lay face down on a hard, cool surface, and when he tried to move his arms and legs, he realized he’d been handcuffed.
The woman sat on the floor in front of him, smiling at him.
“What the—”
A hard, stinging slap against his left cheek rocked his head. “Shut up.”
“You’re going to be—”
“I’m going to be what, Hannibal? Sorry?”
He realized with growing horror that while she no longer looked nor sounded anything like her, this woman was, in fact, Mary.
He also realized he was now naked, and it was his coffee table he lay restrained on.
“You idiot,” she said. “It’s over for you. Jerald is dead, and I’m taking over the church. From now on, the Church of the Rising Sunset is going to devote its considerable resources to helping the United States and the rest of the world recover from Kite and doing humanitarian projects.”
His brain didn’t want to process that this woman with the blue-black, short-spiked hair was his mousy, cowed wife.