Guardian (14 page)

 

Chapter Twenty-­Two

A
bu Umar lay asleep in a private hospital room guarded by two Israeli soldiers in plainclothes and one more in the hallway outside. The television was on CNN International, but muted. Mike noted that the morphine drip next to Abu's bed was full. Either the nurses had changed it or Abu refused to self-­medicate.

“Leave us,” Kitra said, and the guards complied.

Mike studied Abu's features. A plain enough looking man. Slender but tough, like a boxer. He was clean shaven and had a cleft chin. His eyebrows were thick and dark. His hair, kept short, was the same length all around. Probably cut it himself with a number two comb.

“Abu, wake up,” Kitra said in Arabic.

Abu stirred but his eyes did not open.

“Wake up, Abu.”

“Hello, Kitra,” Abu said before opening his eyes. “I like this hospital much more than the one in Haifa. Friendlier ­people and better television.”

“I will sleep better now that I know you are happy,” Kitra said.

These two are a regular comedy team,
Mike thought.

Abu opened his eyes and found Mike right away. “Who is this?”

Kitra gestured to Mike like she was a game-­show host pointing to a prize. “This is the American Kharija wants so badly.”

“Ah, the American.” Abu grinned. “Welcome to my room. And your name is?”

“None of your concern,” Mike said. “How are your wounds?”

“None of your concern, but I will say they are healing.” Abu motioned at Mike's sling. “I see you are no stranger to suffering for a cause.”

“You could say that.”

“How is your hunt for Kharija going? I imagine that is why you are here in Kitra's lovely country.”

Mike glanced at Kitra for a second, seeing if the Mossad agent would jump in and take over, but she didn't. Apparently, Kitra was more than comfortable letting him take the lead.

“It hasn't really started yet,” Mike said. “Just got here.”

“And one of your first stops was to visit me? I am honored.”

“Got to start somewhere.”

“Your Arabic is excellent, by the way.” Abu pointed his chin at Kitra. “Much better than hers.”

“I try to avoid speaking it as much as possible,” Kitra said, and smiled.

“Afraid its beauty may overtake you, I am sure,” Abu said.

“At least I learned your language. Your Hebrew sounds like something a farm animal might speak.”

Abu laughed.

Mike watched the two for a second without saying anything. “Are you two finished? If not I can leave you alone.”

“Abu, the American has some questions for you.” Kitra said.

“I hope I can answer some. But I make no promises.”

Mike took a step closer to the bed. “I know you're a Guardian of the Prison.”

Abu shrugged. “I know you are aware of us.”

“Kitra knows now, too. So you do not have to be vague with her anymore.”

Abu shifted his eyes from Mike to Joseph. “Do you believe whatever he told you about my order?”

“No,” Kitra said.

“You see, American, it does not matter what you tell her or anyone else. Only someone who has seen what you have seen would believe.”

“What have I seen, Abu?” Mike asked, hoping he would take the bait.

“I do not know,” Abu said. “I am not you. But I know it convinced you, whatever it was.”

Shit. Time for a new tack,
Mike thought. “What was in the prison you guarded?”

“I do not know.”

“You think it was a jinn.”

“If you say so.”

“But it wasn't. You see, your order had it all wrong. It wasn't a demon or jinn or anything that simple. It was a fallen angel, Abu. One that rebelled with Satan. I came face-­to-­face with it. And I survived.”

Abu stared at him, saying nothing.

“Your order never knew where the prison was actually located. You had a rough idea but not the exact spot. As a result, when it was dug up by the construction crew, your group was nowhere to be found. Then it was accidentally opened and the angel within tasted freedom for the first time since man was created. You know what happened after that. You saw what happened in Basra.”

Abu looked away, focusing on some spot on the wall. Mike sat on the end of the bed. He glanced at Kitra for a second and found her with her arms crossed, listening, watching Abu.

“Now imagine Basra on a scale about one hundred times worse,” Mike said.

“The hell you say.” Abu shifted his attention back to Mike. “Whatever Kharija is planning has nothing to do with Basra or your fallen angel.”

Mike nodded. “True. Not my fallen angel. Because he's gone, along with his prison. But there are other prisons out there. At least, some in the order think so.”

Abu said nothing.

Come on. Back up at least some of the crap I told Joseph.

“Abu, I'm not trying to be cute or funny. In fact, I'm being brutally honest. And for what it's worth, here's some more truth. Kharija betrayed you and the order because his family is being held captive.”

“I know,” Abu said.

“You do?”

“Yes. He told me as much before he shot me.”

“You lied to me, Abu,” Kitra said. “You told me you did not know what his motives were.”

“I know, Kitra, and I am sorry. I did not know if I could trust you at the time.”

“Did he tell you who had them?” Mike said.

“No.”

“And you haven't figured out why the person manipulating Kharija wanted me.”

“Obviously not.”

“Whoever took his family wants me because that fallen angel left a mark on me. And he thinks he can use me like a metal detector to find other prisons. So he used Kharija to do his dirty work and capture me.”

After a few moments of silence, Abu said, “My order thinks there are three or four other prisons.”

Finally.
“Around the world?” Mike asked.

“No, in the Middle East.”

Not what Kharija said.
“Really? But no idea where.”

“Just suspicions. Kharija would not know any more than I or the rest of the order. If he knows more, he has received the information from an outside source. Perhaps this stranger who has taken his family.”

That's not good.
Mike had hoped Abu would have been able to shed more light on where Kharija might take him to look for the prisons.

“You said they want you to find other prisons,” Abu said. “Why?”

“Not to guard them.”

Abu's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “No one is that crazy.”

They are if they're a supernatural being trapped in a man's body
. “I told you,” Mike said, “Basra on a grander and bloodier scale.”

“What the hell are the two of you talking about?” Kitra asked.

“We must find Kharija right away,” Abu said, looking at him. “Let me help you.”

Kitra held her hands up. “Wait a minute. I know we need to find him—­and you, by the way, are in no condition to help.”

“If our friend here is correct,” Abu said, “whoever is controlling Kharija wants to open a prison and cause another Basra, if not worse.”

Mike watched Kitra cross her arms and chew on Abu's last statement. He could tell it didn't taste good. How could it? Two guys spouting the same crap about angels and prisons and catastrophic loss of human life. He wouldn't blame Kitra if she decided to shoot them both and hear no more of it.

“Well, Kitra,” he said, “you've heard the theory from Abu and myself. Do you believe it now?”

“No.” Joseph uncrossed her arms and stuffed her hands in his pockets. “But I am not going to let that prevent me from finding this bastard Kharija before he does whatever the hell it is he is planning.”

“Good enough for me,” Mike said. “Now we need to know where to start looking for him.”

“No,” Kitra said. “You do not.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are leaving Israel immediately, Mike.”

“What?”

“If all this unbelievable crap is true, you are incredibly dangerous. We cannot allow you to fall into Kharija's or his master's hands. You must go back into hiding until this is settled.”

Mike shook his head. “No way. I'm finishing this.”
I have to. I'm supposed to. The mark is not a curse.

“Not in Israel you are not. If Kharija has left the country, feel free to pursue him. But if he is still here, you shall not be.”

“But—­”

“Why? Why must you stay? Why must you be the one to pursue him? You are the biggest threat, if all of this is true. Yet you would endanger millions to be the one to stop him? You can stop him by removing yourself from the equation.”

“My daughter—­”

“You are being selfish, Mike.”

Mike bit the inside of his mouth. Hard.

“I can understand why Glenn let you come. He didn't believe this prison stuff. Saw it as an opportunity to get you out of the US and take heat off of him while letting you loose on this maniac. But I do not understand why
you
have put yourself in this position.”

Mike sighed. “Call me crazy, Kitra, but I think I'm supposed to be here.”
The mark is not a curse. A seraph told me so.
“Yes, if I'm captured, I'm dangerous. But I also think I might be the only person who can stop all of this.”

“But you're marked—­”

“Because I'm marked!” Mike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I can't make sense of it or explain it, but I'm supposed to be here. Call it part of a grander plan.”

“Call it what you like but it is not part of my plan. I cannot accept any of it. You will leave.”

I'll do whatever the fuck I want,
Mike thought, but checked his anger. “Of course, it's your call. But at least allow me to stay until we know for sure where he is. For now, I'm safe with you, right?”

Kitra shook her head. “You are asking a great deal.”

“Please.”

“Fine, but if we find out he is still in Israel, you are gone. Understand?”

“Yes.”
Gone out of your sight at least.
He pulled out his cell phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“Glenn. He has Kharija's boy in custody. Maybe he knows where we can find his employer.”

“Ah, yes,” Joseph said. “I doubt it will be that simple.”

“Maybe Lady Luck will give us a kiss.” The phone rang a few times.

“Cheatum,” Glenn said on the other end.

“Glenn, what's our boy telling us?”

“His name is Mayyat Sadat. Recruited by Kharija but not a member of the order.”

“Did he say where Kharija was?”

“Tel Aviv.”

Shit. Can't tell Joseph that yet.
“You're sure?”

“I'm sure. No joy on an exact location, though.”

Well, fuck Lady Luck. “Super. So, nothing useful, then.”

“I wouldn't say that. Mayyat told me who Kharija's working for.”

Mike's attention perked up. “Oh, really. And who might be orchestrating this insanity?”

“Nassir Fahd.”

“The Syrian?”

Next to him, Kitras's eyebrowsarched.

“That's the one. None of this makes sense on any level. Nassir Fahd is the Syrian president's advisor. Why he would be running around looking for the underground prisons of fallen angels, I haven't got a clue. Hell, I can't even believe I'm saying it. Or even fucking thinking it.”

Mike rubbed his forehead.
Because he's not really a person. He's something else pretending to be a person. And because he wants to open those prisons and kill lots of real ­people.
“You're beginning to see the light.”

“Bullshit.”

“What about Mayyat's cell phone?”

“What about it?”

“He was talking to Kharija. Any luck calling it and maybe getting a GPS fix?”

“Negative. We tried and got zip. Kharija isn't squawking. Probably decided after Haifa to go dark and stay dark.”

Mike walked to the corner of the room and turned toward it so the others couldn't hear. “What about my daughter? Did he have any information?”

“Relax. He found the drawing in your stash and figured it meant something to you. He threw it on the wall, hoping it would provoke you, which it did. He doesn't know anything else.”

Mike exhaled, closed his eyes and thought about Cora for a few seconds, of when she was four, blowing out candles on her birthday cake.

“Glenn, keep him on ice for me.”

“I'll try.”

“And do me another favor.”

“You're asking a lot already.”

“Find her for me.”

Glenn was silent a moment. “You sure you want to know? Might not be the best idea.”

Mike took a deep breath. “It's time I knew.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

“Thanks. I'll get back to work here and call you when we've got something.”

“See that you do.”

Mike hung up and looked at Kitra. “No word on a location.”

“I told you it would not be that simple.”

“But he gave up who Kharija is working for.”

Abu leaned forward, too. “You said a Syrian.”

“Hezbollah, correct?” Kitra said. “They are insane enough to try something like this.”

Mike shook his head. “Nassir Fahd.”

“Wait a minute,” Kitra said, blinking rapidly. “You are saying Nassir Fahd kidnapped Kharija's family and is blackmailing him into finding the prisons?”

“It appears that way.” Mike paced and hummed for a moment. “Who the hell is this guy? I know he's an advisor to the Syrian president, but all this crap makes him appear a lot more sinister than a pencil pusher with a political agenda.” Not to mention, apparently, some form of supernatural being.