Scott Mariani - The Doomsday Prophecy

He watched in the flickering firelight as she made up a bed of fern leaves and settled herself into it. After a few minutes the steady rise and fall of her body under the blanket told him she was sleeping. He lay awake for a long time, listening to the yap of the coyotes in the distance.

Sometime in the night he woke to see Alex gazing at him in the dying glow of the fire. Her head was resting on her hands, her hair draped across her face. The last of the flames flickered in her eyes. ‘You were dreaming,’ she whispered sleepily. ‘About someone you love.’

He didn’t reply.

‘Are you married?’ she murmured. ‘Is there someone waiting for you at home?’

He hesitated before answering. ‘No. There’s nobody. What about you?’

‘There was someone,’ she said. ‘Back where I live, in Virginia. His name was Frank. I guess we never had much of a chance. It ended a couple of years ago. We never saw each other – he had his veterinary practice, I was always up at HQ or out in the field somewhere. It just kind of died on us.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I suppose I gave my heart to the Agency.’

‘I did that once,’ he said. ‘Gave everything I had to a badge. Then you realise one day how little it really means.’

There was silence for a while.

‘Something Jones said about you,’ she said softly.

‘What did he say?’

‘He said you were one of the most dangerous men alive.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s men like Jones who are the dangerous ones.’

‘I saw your file.’

‘That’s my past, Alex. It’s not me.’

She raised her head up a little and brushed the hair away from her face. ‘So who are you, Ben Hope? Really?’

‘I’m still working that one out,’ he whispered. Then he rolled over and closed his eyes.

The Richmond House

Midnight

Irving Slater’s first reaction, after Jones had sheepishly called him from the hotel to say that Hope had got away with Bradbury and one of the agents, had been stunned silence. That had quickly modulated into pure rage, a blistering superfury that had reduced Jones almost to tears on the phone.

But now, a couple of hours later, he’d calmed down. Not enough to be able to flop down on the giant sofa opposite the fifty-inch screen. But enough to think clearly and gain a perspective on this whole thing.

And he’d come to a decision, one that he’d resisted for months but which he now realised he’d delayed for much too long.

He picked up the phone and dialled. Waited. A voice answered.

‘It’s me,’ he said.

‘It’s late.’

‘Never mind that. Listen. Change of plan. This is getting out of hand. I’ve decided to fast-track the Stratagem.’

There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. ‘Why now?’ the associate asked.

‘Something’s come up,’ Slater said. ‘Something very interesting that suits us perfectly.’ He described it.

‘They’ll all be there? Their president and the four members of the Supreme Council?’

Slater smiled. ‘All right under the same dome. And a lot of other very important people. Talk about giving them a slap in the face, huh?’

‘If we can pull it off…’

‘Call Herzog. It takes place in three days. Tell him I’ll double his price if he can make the date.’

‘You’re sure about this?’ There was a tremor in the associate’s voice. ‘It’s a big step.’

‘It’s a very big step,’ Slater agreed. ‘But this is the time. We do this now, or never. “ There will be no more delay .” Book of Revelation. See? I read the Bible too. We wait any longer, we’re going to get fucked.’

‘This is an important moment,’ the associate muttered. ‘I wish you wouldn’t curse like that.’

‘Don’t be so fucking pious. It’s boring.’

‘Is Richmond ready for this?’

‘He will be. I’ll make sure of that. You worry about your end. Do it now.’

Slater ended the call. With jubilation in his step he trotted across to the drinks cabinet. Yanked the bottle of Krug out of the ice bucket and poured himself a large glass. He raised the champagne in a silent toast to himself and his moment of glory. Downed the glass in one.

His heart was beating. He’d done it. No more waiting. He topped up his glass and lay back on the sofa, barely able to contain his excitement. He aimed the remote at the giant TV and stabbed a couple of keys. His favourite satellite porn channel filled the screen, and he savoured that for a while as he polished off the Krug.

Then the phone rang. Slater muted the groans and gasps from the surround-sound speakers and picked up.

It was the associate ringing back.

‘It’s settled. Three days.’

‘Tell Herzog he’s a pro.’

‘I think he already knows that.’ The associate hung up.

Slater gulped down the last of the champagne, wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his silk shirt and dialled a number.

Jones answered on the third ring.

‘It’s me,’ Slater said.

‘No sign,’ Jones said, anticipating him. ‘But we’re searching. We’ll get them. It’s under control.’

‘I’ve heard that before. And when you do find them, I want them dead.’

‘All of them? Bradbury too?’

‘Bradbury too.’

‘But the ostraka -’

‘We’ve gone beyond that now,’ Slater interrupted. ‘The plan’s altered. Jerusalem is going ahead.’

‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Exactly. Hallelujah.’

‘How soon?’ Jones breathed.

‘Three days,’ Slater said. ‘So. You find them. And bury them.’

‘With pleasure.’

The sixteenth day

Ben opened his eyes to the morning light and smelled roasting meat. Alex was squatting down next to the fire, and he saw that she’d built it up and was cooking a rabbit over it using two pronged sticks and a spit.

‘Something smells good,’ he said.

She glanced round at the sound of his voice, and there was genuine warmth in her smile. Her hair was tousled. ‘You’re hungry. That’s a good sign.’

He lay back against the cave wall, watching the way she was running the fire hot to minimise smoke. The juices from the rabbit were dripping fast into the flames, sizzling and popping. He let his eye wander down the curve of her body, noticing for the first time how attractive she was. She was tall and slender, with an athletic grace to her movements.

His gaze rested on the butt of the Beretta sticking out of the back pocket of her jeans.

She seemed to read his thoughts. ‘You can have it back, if you want. I hope you don’t mind that I took it from you while you were sleeping. But Zoë needs to eat. And so do you. You look pale.’

He sat up slowly. It felt like someone was sawing off his arm at the shoulder with an angle grinder. He reached for the codeine and popped two tablets in his mouth. ‘I don’t mind. You keep it.’

She smiled. ‘So you trust me now.’

‘Do I have a choice?’

‘Not really.’ She poked the serrated knife into the rabbit’s flank and drew it off the spit, laid the roasted carcass on a flat stone and started carving pieces off. She offered one to Zoë on the point of the knife.

Zoë wrinkled her face up in disgust. ‘I’m not eating that.’

Alex frowned. ‘You’ll need your strength. Looks like we have a lot of walking to do today.’

‘I’m vegetarian.’

‘Good,’ Ben said. ‘More for us. But if you think we’re going to carry you, you’re wrong.’

Zoë pointed at Alex. ‘I’m not going anywhere with her. It’s thanks to her that Dr Greenberg was killed.’

‘I didn’t want that to happen,’ Alex said. ‘There was nothing I could do to stop it.’