Steven James - The Knight

“All right,” Reggie said gallantly, “I’ll take care of them.”

He stepped outside.

Yes, Amy Lynn would spend the night laughing at Reggie’s jokes, responding to his touch, pleasing him, so that tomorrow when she needed some time by herself, he would be more trusting, less wary, and it would be easier for her to slip away.

Dr. Bryant, the journalism professor who’d taught her so much about how to use people to get a big story, would have been proud of her approach.

A few moments later, Reggie returned and smiled. “All taken care of.”

She gave him a sly grin. “Now, it’s just the two of us.”

“And Jayson.”

“Right,” she clarified. “And Jayson.”

“But, we can tuck him in early.”

“Perfect.”

She took Reggie’s hand.

Yes, tonight she would be his. And then tomorrow she would be free.

The Hyatt Regency HotelChicago, Illinois10:10 p.m. Central Time

I took a few minutes to unpack, and then, since my body was still on Denver time and I wasn’t ready for bed, I decided to put in a little time on the case. I set my laptop on the desk, and, to make room for my notes, I started clearing off the notepad, hotel directory, and local travel guides when I noticed the Gideon Bible beside the room phone.

I paused.

And I remembered.

At the conclusion of my video chat with Richard Basque earlier in the day, he’d referenced a biblical passage, one that I hadn’t yet taken the time to read.

I thought I remembered the reference, but I wanted to confirm that I was right, so I accessed the video file of our conversation and played the final seconds.

“I’ll take my chances. Good-bye, Richard,” I’d said.

“I’ll be praying for you. Remember, Exodus 1:15-21. Remem-ber-”

And that’s when I’d hung up.

I paged through the Bible until I came to the first chapter of Exodus.

The story was about Moses’s birth, and I recognized it from my childhood days when my mother had taken me to church.

In the story, the Hebrews were living in Egypt where the king of the land, Pharaoh, became concerned about how numerous their population was becoming. Fearing that they might side with his enemies in a war, he ordered the Hebrew midwives to kill all the boys born to the Hebrew women.

Then I came to verses seventeen through twenty:

But the midwives feared God, and did not as the king of Egypt commanded them, but saved the men children alive.

And the king of Egypt called for the midwives, and said unto them, “Why have ye done this thing, and have saved the men children alive?”

And the midwives said unto Pharaoh, “Because the Hebrew women are not as the Egyptian women; for they are lively, and are delivered ere the midwives come in unto them.”

Therefore God dealt well with the midwives: and the people multiplied, and waxed very mighty.

The next verse reiterated that since the midwives had feared God, he blessed them and gave them families of their own.

I gazed at the verses for a few moments, thinking through the story. The message of the section seemed clear to me: the midwives had broken the law and then lied to protect innocent lives, and as a result, God had blessed them.

I had to let that sink in.

I read and reread the verses and then began thumbing through the Bible, remembering other stories, other examples of the same principle that protecting the innocent is more important than telling the truth.

Rahab lied to protect the Hebrew spies and was honored by God for her choice.

Jonathan lied to his father about David’s location to save him from being murdered.

Even Jesus’s disciples didn’t tell the authorities “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth” about his whereabouts because they knew it would mean his certain death. The only one who told the whole truth about his location was Judas-the world’s most infamous betrayer.

In fact, as I flipped through the Bible and reviewed the stories that I was familiar with, I couldn’t find a single example of God being displeased with someone who lied to protect innocent life.

I’ve always believed God values truth. I’d never doubted that.

But it looked like he valued something else even more.

During the interview Basque had asked me to lie about assaulting him, then told me to remember these Bible verses…

A thought.

A shocking thought: maybe Basque did turn to the Lord, after all.

I could hardly believe I was even considering the possibility.

But what if it were true? maybe Richard Basque realized that if I confessed to assaulting him, he would quite possibly be set free. And, despite his newfound spiritual convictions, he might be drawn into his old habits, his old hungers. Maybe he knew that for justice to be done, he needed to remain incarcerated Stop it, Pat. Too much speculation. Too many ifs and maybes. That’s not how you work. Stick to the facts. Stick to what you know.

No, Basque’s motives weren’t at issue here, my testimony was.

The midwives lied to protect innocent lives.

That’s what mattered to them more than anything else.

And that’s what mattered most to me too.

All right then.

I knew what I would say when I took the stand in the morning.

Monday, May 196:54 a.m. Central Time

I was sliding my laptop into its case, getting ready to head to the lobby for breakfast when I heard my room phone ring. I answered, “Hello?”

“Sorry if I woke you, my boy.”

“Calvin! Where have you been?” Exasperation as well as anger found their way into my voice. “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you all weekend.”

“Yes, and I am sorry about that. I’ve been a bit occupied. Buried myself in my work, I’m afraid. But I’ve uncovered something that might affect your testimony today.” He took a breath. “No doubt you made the connection to Boccaccio’s Decameron previous to the media revelations regarding the case?”

“Yes.” I wondered if Calvin had discovered the link even before I did. “But how did you-”

“What are you calling him? Not ‘The Day Four Killer,’ I hope.”

“John.”

Calvin was quiet for a moment. “Yes, that is appropriate.” Then he added, “Patrick, I believe he’s done it before.”

I dropped onto the bed. “You have evidence he’s committed prior homicides?”

“Yes, by reenacting other stories. Specifically, ‘The Man of Law’s Tale’ in England last May. The story is from Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales. As you may know, more than 20 percent of the stories in The Canterbury Tales are based on-”

“Yes, yes,” I said. “I know: The Decameron.”

“Precisely. Well, in lines 428-437 of ‘The Man of Law’s Tale,’ several people are stabbed and then hacked to pieces while seated at a table. I believe your man, John, reenacted this crime and killed four people last year on May 17th at a wedding in Canterbury, and I’m certain the city of the crime was not chosen randomly.”

“No,” I said numbly, trying to let all of this register. “I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“Later in the story, a man’s throat is slit and the bloody knife is left in his lover’s bed. And this very crime occurred the next day, May 18th, in Gloucester.”

“How did you figure this out?”

“Research,” he said simply. “But there are two more. In the next section of the tale, a man is killed for lying, perhaps by God; the context leaves it open for interpretation, and he falls to the ground so forcefully that his eyes pop out of their sockets.” Then he added grimly, “After removing Dr. Roland Smith’s eyes on May 19th, John let him live. The professor committed suicide a week later. At the time of his death, he was England’s leading expert on Geoffrey Chaucer.”