Final Crossing: A Novel of Suspense (35 page)

“Get up,” Rudiger says. “Slow now. Legs’ll be weak from the gas.”

Jonas waits a second before standing. He’s off-balance when he does.

“Don’t try to do anything to me. You’ll get that soon enough.”

“Where is she?” Jonas asks. “Not here.”

Jonas wobbles.

“You don’t get it, do you?,” Rudiger says. “No.”

He looks over to Sidams. Man don’t have long. Doesn’t matter. Those two are just window dressing. Part of the performance. Not the main actor.

“Cross is for me, Lieutenant.”

“You?”

“It was me the whole time. The whole time.
I’m
the One.” Jonas takes a step forward. Wobbly.

“Not Anne?”

“No.
Me
.” Rudiger loses himself in his memory, clinging to it like the only copy of a rare photograph. “I didn’t even need my ability. I jes needed to remember the words from my daddy. He was right all along. I
am
special.”

“
Where is she
?”

Rudiger snaps his attention back to Jonas. “Dyin.’ Like I said.”

“How are you going to get...on the cross?”

Rudiger squeezes his fists, then opens all fingers. The knife falls to the floor.

“You’re going to do it. Just like the others. ‘Cept the ear part—that ain’t necessary for me. Need to wait a few minutes for you to get your strength. Lot of work.”

“You want me to nail you to that?”

“That’s the idea.”

“You want to die?”

“Not a matter of want. I am the Son of Man.”

Silence. Rudiger follows Jonas’s gaze, which shifts to the

Senator. Back to Rudiger. “How do I get Anne?”

“You do a good job, I’ll tell you where she is. Before I die.”

“What if you die too soon?”

“Then she dies, too.”

“Is this for real?”

“What else would it be?”

He spits on the floor, dry mouth. Should probably have some water, but doesn’t do anything about it. Another cigarette would be nice, but doesn’t want to indulge. He walks over and looks at the cross on the floor. Rudiger sits on the floor, then stretches out over the beams. Arms outright. Back stiff against cool wood.

“Take your time. When you’re ready, come over.” Rudiger watches as Jonas stumbles over to the Senator.

He doesn’t tell Jonas not to help the man.
He’s smart
, Rudiger thinks. He’ll figure that out. Sure enough, all Jonas manages is to touch his leg, small gesture. Wipe off some blood. He says something to Sidams. Rudiger can’t hear it. Maybe a promise. Then Jonas goes over to the Ambassador. Stares down at him, but doesn’t touch the body.

Then Jonas walks into the dark. Seconds later, the room fills with light. The door he found swings open and Rudiger sees Jonas step out into the daylight. Feeble breeze rustles through the hangar. Death rattle breath. Jonas wants to run, Rudiger thinks. Run into the light. The safety of day. The open plains. But he won’t. He’ll shut that door and come back to the death around him. Because it’s the only thing he can do.

Jonas does just that. Disappears back into the dark. Emerges into the light. Looks down upon Rudiger. Air still and heavy.

“How does this work?”

“Pick up the mallet and a spike.”

He nods at the floor next to him, but he doesn’t need to.

Spikes next to a cross tend to be obvious. Jonas does as he’s told, his movements slow and unsure.

“Be easier with you on your knees.”

Jonas gets on his knees. Rudiger can feel his breath. He stares at the spotlight above him, burning into his flesh. He thinks he’s ready, but he doesn’t know. What if I’m wrong?

Preacherman’s voice. Preacherman’s words.
You ain’t wrong, boy. Now do it good and deep.
But I’ve been wrong before.

Believe in your faith. And don’t be a pussy. Pain won’t last long.

I don’t fear the pain.

Tell him exactly how to do it.

I know.

“Left wrist first,” Rudiger says to Jonas. “Between the two bones leading up to the forearm.”

“Jesus.”

“Don’t get sick on me now.”

“What if I hit an artery?”

“You won’t.”

Jonas wipes his forehead then places the sharp end of the spike on Rudiger’s forearm.

“Lower.”

The metal is cool, despite the heat in the room. The weight against the skin feels satisfying. Solid. Real.

“Here?”

“That’ll do it. Get the mallet.”

Jonas picks it up. Holds it with a shaking right hand. “First strike hard, not soft. Drive it through.”

“I...oh, God.”

“You can do it.”

“I know. Just give me a minute.”

“You’re important, Lieutenant. Always have been. You’re saving the world and don’t even believe it.”

The Senator gurgles a cough in the distance. Jonas closes his eyes.

“You praying?”

The man doesn’t answer. He’s lost somewhere else, another world. Another time. Building a purpose to do what has to be done. Then all is still, like a still that’s never been. No more breathing. No more shaking.

He’s ready.

Eyes open. Fierce. Resolved. Jonas lifts the mallet. High above the head.

“God bless you,” Rudiger says.

The blow is crushing, and Rudiger feels a pain and a glory he hasn’t felt since Jerusalem. Excruciating and humbling. He is on the road, no longer lost. Jonas pounds the nail. Two times. Three. Rudiger says nothing. No scream. No begging. With every crushing blow there is a certainty of right. Of belonging.

He looks down at his arm, the metal protrusion an organic extension of his body. He feels himself smile. Wonders if he is. Blood pours from the wound.

“
Where is she?
”

Rudiger looks at his right arm. He feels a liquid run from his left eye, not knowing if it’s a tear or blood. Then he starts to hum.

“We’re jes gettin’ started.”

JONAS FORCED
himself to hammer the spike five times before turning away and retching on the floor. Hardly anything came out. His stomach twisted, and his throat burned with fire. When he finally turned back, he could see the pain on Rudiger’s face, but the man kept his eyes closed and kept humming.

Jonas didn’t recognize the song.

“We don’t have to do this,” Jonas said.

Rudiger coughed and caught his breath. “Yes, Lieutenant, we do.”

“Where is she?”

“Test the nail, Lieutenant. Grab it and pull. Make sure it’s hard and fast in the wood. You don’t want it giving out.”

Jonas didn’t move.

Rudiger opened his eyes and glared at Jonas. “Do it.”

Jonas reached over and grabbed the spike, which disappeared into Rudiger’s wrist. He pulled it weakly toward him. Rudiger grimaced.

“I...I think it’s okay,” Jonas said. “Now the other one,” Rudiger said. “Why are you doing this?”

“The other one, Lieutenant.”

Jonas closed his eyes for a moment and tried to escape to a happier place, but there was no happy place to be found. He could smell the coppery blood. The sweat.

He reached out and grabbed the second spike and held it in his hands. It felt heavy as a brick, and the metal became slippery with the sweat of his palm.

Rudiger struggled to find his voice. “That’s it now. Do my other wrist the same way.”

Jonas slowly placed the tip of the spike on top of the milky wrist and studied it. He held the mallet firmly in his right hand but did not yet raise it up.

Rudiger’s voice was raspy and slow. “Be angry, Lieutenant, if that helps. Think of what I’ve done, if that gets your job accomplished. But I ain’t the monster you think I am. When you do what you gotta do, and I do what I gotta do, the heavens will open, the dead will rise, the good will be saved, and the evil will be damned. Judgment day. It all happens now.” Jonas shook his head. “All that’s happening here is murder and suicide. You’re just going to die.”

“Only one way to find out.”

“Just tell me where she is,
please
.”

“One more nail, Lieutenant. I ain’t gonna make you do my feet. Just one more nail, then that’s it.”

Jonas looked at the cross and saw the piece of wood extending outward beneath Rudiger’s feet. Just a few inches, but enough to stand on once the cross was vertical. Stages and Sidams didn’t get that courtesy, Jonas thought. They got a spike hammered through both feet.

“I’ll live a little longer that way,” Rudiger said. “And once you have me up, I can tell you where your girl is.”

“Why?” Jonas asked. “Why what?”

“Why everything? Why did you kill that family in Somalia?”

“Because I was supposed to. The sign outside the building even said so. It was a test. Make sure I could do what I needed to do later.”

Rudiger’s face suddenly lost a shade of its already pallor tone and his head lolled briefly to the side before snapping back.

Stop wasting time, Jonas. He’s going to lose consciousness and

Anne will die.

Jonas steadied the spike. “Here?”

Rudiger coughed and looked at his arm. “Inch lower.” Jonas moved the spike, and Rudiger gave a feeble nod. “Those words you see, Rudiger. In your head. Those puzzles. They’re just gibberish, you know. They aren’t clues to anything. We can stop this all right now.”

“She’s dying, Lieutenant. Hammer the nail down.” Jonas eyed the rust-brown head of the spike.

Jonas let out a long, slow breath. “Close your eyes,” he said. He didn’t know why he wanted to give any comfort to the man, but it just seemed inhuman not to.

Rudiger closed his eyes and the humming started again. Jonas raised the mallet and smashed it down on the head of the spike. The tip punched through the flesh but not to the wood. Jonas struck it again. Three times. Four. Five.

Blood oozed from the wound but did not spurt. The spike seemed as deep as the other, and Jonas reached out and tested its firmness. It moved a little, but Jonas could hammer no more.

Sweat poured from Rudiger’s face. “Good. Good.”

Jonas shut off emotionally. He no longer cared what was happening. He had an objective, and that objective was to save Anne. He could only do that by completing the task at hand, and his Ranger training took over. He would follow instructions and do what it took to find out where she was.

“What now?” he asked.

“Use...” Rudiger coughed harder and his body spasmed. His muscles flexed and contracted, each one pronounced in its definition. “Use the pulley and rope. Lift me. Shouldn’t... shouldn’t be too hard. Use the gloves.”

One end of a long piece of rope was tied around a hook drilled into the top the cross. The rope ran to the ceiling, over a pulley, and back down to the floor.

Jonas stood. He noticed the base edge of the cross already aligned in a small but deep hole dug into the floor. Once Jonas starting raising the cross, the base should slip into the hole easily.

“Lift me up, Lieutenant. The glory is upon us.”

Jonas found the gloves on the floor and put them on, feeling the dampness of Rudiger’s sweat inside them. He then picked up the rope on the floor. He knew that once the cross started moving, the pain for the man would be excruciating.

It didn’t matter. Jonas had a job.

He steadied his footing and pulled on the rope. Nothing happened. The weight seemed unbearable. But on a second effort the top of Rudiger’s cross began to lift from the floor.

Jonas strained and resisted dropping the rope, which his arms were insisting on. He reached up and grabbed more rope and heaved again.

The top steadily rose. Higher.

After the halfway point, just as his arms were sure to give out, the effort eased. The brunt of the weight had been transferred back to the floor, and the cross slid into the depth of the hole beneath it. The cross wobbled, then settled.

Rudiger was raised.

JONAS RELEASED
the rope and stood back.

Rudiger towered over him, and a bright spotlight perfectly positioned at the ceiling of the hangar shone directly onto the dying man. Sweat covered his body in a sheen. The red of the blood from his wrists looked like rose petals flowering from beneath his pasty skin.

He was conscious. His feet found their pedestal, and, though he seemed weak, he had the strength to support his own weight. For now.

“Now you tell me,” Jonas said. “I did what you wanted. Now tell me where she is.”

A tendril of drool released from Rudiger’s lower lip and stretched toward the floor. He squeezed his eyes, as if willing the pain and the fog away, then opened them and looked down at Jonas.

“Do you understand what I’m doing is good, Lieutenant?”